God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(21)

“Hell to the fucking yeah.” Nikolai rubs his nose. “Violence, baby.”

“You don’t have to resort to violence,” Gareth says with the tone of a pacifist moron.

“Usually, the threat of it is enough,” I finish for him.

“We’re doing this my way, motherfuckers.” Nikolai spanks a girl’s ass, making her yelp. “Get some front-row seats to watch and learn.”

Gareth tips his head in his direction. “Try not to provoke the Serpents while you’re at it.”

“Not possible.”

“They’re part of the Bratva, too. If blood spills, you and Jeremy will be held accountable by your parents.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Jeremy takes a sip of his drink. “Serpents might be part of the same organization, but their fathers are our parents’ rivals in the race for power. One day, they will take the reins, so they’re trying to squash us before we take over the empire.”

“Which is why they’re putting all their effort into these little provocations that are a camouflage for a bigger scheme.” I flop down beside Nikolai and take a pull on my cigarette.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agrees. “We can’t let our guard down.”

The girl who did a world tour from Jeremy’s to Nikolai’s lap inches toward me on all fours with the desperation of a cougar in heat.

Her eyes blaze and she’s probably drunk or high, or both, considering her extremely dilated pupils.

She lets her dark hair fall over her face, a real imitation of that horror movie where a girl comes out of a well. Even her movements match that ghost.

I grab her by the hair and drag her between my legs. She gasps, but then giggles, snorts, and releases all sorts of annoying noises that should be enough ammo to ban her from breathing.

My fingers dig into her skull, then her jaw. “Open.”

She does obediently, revealing a tongue piercing.

It’s not the same mouth that was so full with my cum that she spat it all over my designer shoes while glaring and shaking.

The shaking is important, because even though she was clearly terrified and completely out of her element, she still scowled at me.

Still spat my cum out as if it wasn’t worthy of being in her stomach.

For that reason alone, I’m tempted to fill all her holes with that cum.

And now, I’m hard.

Fuck. When did I start to have such little control over my libido?

The answer is obviously three days ago.

Three fucking days since my visit to the cliff where I thought I could find some answers.

I found something much better.

The answer behind the answer.

Glyndon King.

I throw the ghost girl away, stub the cigarette on her Gucci bag, and stand.

Jeremy stares up at me. “Aren’t you going to stay around and plan the last details of the next initiation?”

“You do it this time.”

“Killer, you fake strategist!” Nikolai points a finger at me, giving zero fucks about the girl who’s orgasming in his arms. “Didn’t you say no one can top you, because your plans are the best?”

“They are.”

“Then give us one.”

“Jeremy already knows all about it, and I’m not interested in repeating myself. Call me when the actual fun happens.”

“You’re really leaving, Satan’s heir? The fun is just starting.”

“Some of us actually study, Niko. Med student, remember?”

“Bullshit. You’re a genius.”

“Still need to put in some effort.” Not really, but it makes society feel better to know everyone is human and suffers just like them.

I slap Gareth on the shoulder. “Stay boring, big bro.”

He flips me off and I smile as I slip out of the main party and head downstairs. The basement is soundproofed, so all the music and fuckery eventually disappears as I lock the door behind me.

The red room comes into focus and I stand at the entrance, staring at the attempts at masterpieces I’ve tried over the years.

My first picture of those mice was taken with a Polaroid camera. I had to commemorate the moment of seeing into a living being’s insides.

My second was Gareth when he hit his knee, bled all over the garden, and tried so hard not to cry.

The third was Gareth being attacked by a dog. Ever since then, he’s never really gone near one again. If he rationalized the fact that the dog who bit him was sick and probably rabid, he wouldn’t have to be so wary of them anymore. But I learned early on that other people’s responses to threatening, dangerous situations are vastly different from mine.

Where I stay collected, they panic.

Where I search for a solution, they let fear overwhelm them.

Over the years, I’ve taken a lot of pictures. Some are gory. Others, not so much. But they usually highlight some form of suffering.

Some form of…human weakness.

At first, I took them to understand how their reactions to certain situations differ from mine. Then I enjoyed the knowledge that I hold a part of them no one has access to.

Not even them.

That’s why they’re masterpieces.

I’ve preserved them so well over the years, not allowing anyone to see this part of me.

They don’t even know I’ve chosen medicine just so I can continue my fixation with seeing inside a living being without killing them.