God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)(33)

I stay close behind them, trying and failing not to get tense whenever Creighton throws a glance at me. He continues to keep an eye on me until we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Once we’re outside, chaos of different proportions greets us. Guards, firefighters, onlookers. The whole of The King’s U campus seems to be here to watch.

I tune them out, choosing to focus on my brother.

Gareth takes over from Creighton, then he and Nikolai carry an unconscious but breathing Jeremy to get medical attention.

I take off my mask and start to follow behind them, when a wall of muscle blocks my path.

Creighton glares at me with that silent broodiness of his and it’s downright terrifying.

It’s like he’s blaming me for what happened. Or maybe he’s blaming me for having somehow ended up in the fire.

He removes his mask and throws it to the ground, revealing a clenched jaw. Both his hands and his face are smudged with soot, and I want to wipe it away.

I don’t, though, completely entrapped by the dark expression covering his features.

His punishing gaze glides from my face to my breasts and then to my waist with heated anger.

That’s when I realize I’ve been roaming around wearing a wet shirt. A ripped wet shirt. Not only does it barely cover my ass, but it’s also molded to my body, leaving little to the imagination.

Even my nipples are hard, pushing against the fabric.

And Creighton doesn’t seem pleased with the view, but if he is, the displeasure and anger have cut open any sense of appreciation.

He takes off his hoodie and slides it over my head. I help by putting my hands through the oversized sleeves. The thing swallows me whole and almost reaches my knees. And just like that, I’m surrounded by his warmth and soothing smell.

But despite the reprieve from the cold, I can’t help shivering at the view of his half-nakedness, the bulging muscles, and the spider tattoo.

Something gets stuck in my scratchy throat and I cough a few times. “Thanks.”

A savage hand grips my upper arm. “What the fuck were you thinking staying in the house in the middle of the fire?”

I swallow and flinch a little at the raw power behind his words. I thought he was mad because of how I looked, but maybe that’s not the case.

“Jer was trapped,” I say slowly. “I couldn’t leave him alone.”

“So you decided to die along with him?”

“If need be.” I lift my chin. “Besides, it all worked out fine in the end. What are you so mad about?”

“The fact that you put your life in jeopardy.” He tightens his grip on my arm until I wince. “That won’t be happening again, is that clear?”

I purse my lips.

“Is that fucking clear, Annika?”

“I won’t leave the people I care about to die,” I murmur. “That’s just not me.”

Creighton’s nostrils flare with the force of his inhales and exhales, but before he can say anything else, something hits him from behind.

At first, he remains frozen, but then a trickle of blood trails down the side of his head.

I shriek as he tumbles forward, but I don’t get out of the way. Before he can fall against me, a savage hand grabs his hair and wrenches him back.

Nikolai throws down his baseball bat and grins like a maniac. “Time to punish the cunt who burned our property.”





12





ANNIKA





They try to stop me from following.

Nikolai, Killian, Gareth, and all the guards, I mean.

However, I’m apparently a force to be reckoned with today.

After I make sure Jeremy’s getting medical care and is recuperating in the safe eastern end of the house, I catch up with them.

The fire has been put out, but the whole western end of the house has been eaten by the flames. All that remains is dark soot, walls, and the occasional firefighter. After witnessing the show, or some of it, the students, who weren’t supposed to be here in the first place, were kicked off the property.

My brother’s friends have carried Creighton into the annexed house that wasn’t touched by the fire. Probably because the guards and all their equipment and security gadgets are here.

Obviously, the main house was the assailants’ target.

A guard stands in front of the door, burly and big, and all but blocks the entire entrance.

“Please go back to the main house, miss,” he says in a Russian accent, not bothering to even look at me.

If it were any other time, I’d tuck my tail between my legs and do as I’m told. It’s all part of my sheltered upbringing and the harsh world that my father and brother tried their hardest to keep me away from.

Avoiding conflict and living in my pretty purple-colored bubble isn’t only good for my sake but also for everyone else’s.

But something changed tonight.

It happened sometime between the time when I could no longer hear Jeremy’s voice and when he passed out and couldn’t save himself.

I realized that neither Jeremy nor Papa will always be there. The time has come for me to regain control over my own life.

Usually, I don’t glare at people. Hell, I don’t even know how, but I manage to as I speak in a nonnegotiable tone. “Move.”

“I have orders to not allow anyone inside, miss.”