God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(113)

“Hey! I’ve been in countless relationships,” Remi says.

“You don’t count.”

“Hey, Remi,” Killian calls, obviously on a nickname basis with my friends.

“What’s up, Kill?”

“Tell us a joke.”

“Oooh, what’s with the peer pressure all of a sudden? I have stage fright. Just kidding. Why do you need the joke? To brag to your friends? Sorry mate, I have to be credited.”

“I just wanted to see how funny you are since someone said you’re hilarious.” I don’t miss how he enunciates the last word.

Remi completely misses that, though. “That someone has delectable taste. Oh, here’s one. What did one butt cheek say to the other?”

Cecily rolls her eyes. “What?”

“Together, we can stop this shit.”

Annika, Ava, Brandon, and I burst out laughing. Creighton smiles a little, and Cecily throws a lemon at him, but can’t stop her grin. “You clown piece of shit.”

“Haha, you bitches love me. If it weren’t for my lordship, you’d be living a boring life.”

“See?” I tell Killian as they all talk at the same time.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Oh, please, you’re just being a twat.”

“Careful, baby. You’re pushing it.”

I flip my hair and lean on my palm to stare at him. “You’re going to punish me anyway, so might as well push you as much as I want.”

“When did you learn to be a pain in the ass?”

I stroke his cheek. “After I met you.”

I can feel his jaw clenching beneath my fingers. “You’re never getting drunk again and speaking in that erotic voice in public.”

My head falls back with a laugh, and he doesn’t let me finish as he abruptly stands and picks me up in his arms. “Glyndon’s had too much to drink. I’m taking her back. She’ll spend the night with me.”

“Nooo, I want to staaay.”

But my words are unheard as he walks out of the pub. I sulk, then I grab him by the hair. “Taking me back, my arse. You just want to fuck me, you perverted, sadistic bloody wanker.”

“Glad you got that off your chest. We’re going to have a long night.”

I laugh because I don’t want to cry. “When will you get tired of fucking me?”

“I’m not sure, but probably never.”

He opens the passenger door of his new car, another custom red Aston Martin that his grandpa bought him, and puts me inside, then fastens my seatbelt, his face inches away from mine.

“What if I start to have feelings for you, what happens then?” I whisper, and I can actually hear the sound of my heart splitting in two. It’s haunting in the dark, freezing, and absolutely horrifying.

“Why does something need to happen?”

“Because that’s how relationships work. There need to be feelings.”

“I already feel a lot for you. Right now, it’s fucking annoyance and anger for letting them see you like this.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking for.”

“Then what are you asking for, Glyndon?”

I stare in the opposite direction, a tear sliding down my cheek. “Something you don’t have.”

“Don’t give me that.” He forces me to stare at him, his fingers digging in my chin. “And don’t you ever use that fucking argument with me.”

“Then if I ask for your heart, will you give it? Of course you won’t. You don’t have it. All your emotions are learned, right? So even if you say you like me, you adore me, you love me, I’ll never believe them, because you don’t believe them either. You say I love you to your mum all the time, but you told me it’s just to placate her. You’ve never felt what love is. You don’t know what love is.”

His nostrils flare. It’s anger, it’s rage, but it’s not for the right reasons. “I’m giving you more than I’ve given anyone in my life, Glyndon. I’m giving you monogamy, dates that I usually don’t give a fuck about, and I’m even entertaining your friends and family. I’m sparing your brother, and choosing not to fight against your cousin, no matter how much he provokes me. I’m being fucking patient with your irritating fights and denials and dramatics. I told you that my tolerance and nice phases don’t come naturally. Not even a little, not even fucking close. So be grateful, take what I’m offering, and stop being fucking difficult every step of the way.”

I can’t control the tear that flows down my other cheek. “What you’re giving me isn’t enough.”

“Glyndon,” he grinds out.

I close my eyes. “I want to go home.”

“Open your fucking eyes.”

I do, though after a while, I repeat, assertively this time, “I want to go home.”

His jaw clenches, but he slowly releases me and goes to driver’s side.

I fall asleep with tears in my eyes and a shard of pain in my soul.

But the truth of the matter is, I should only blame myself for having feelings for a psycho.

A hand pats my shoulder and I wake up, thinking we’ve arrived at the dorm. Instead, we’re in front of a plane.