God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(69)

“No.” Her voice is barely a whisper, eaten up by the commotion around us, but I hear it.

This is the first time she freed herself of moral shackles and let go.

Is it too early to fuck her on the edge of this same fountain and then think of a swift way to get rid of witnesses?

No.

Repress.

I don’t want to scare her away when she’s finally speaking the truth.

“What did you just say?” I play dumb. “I didn’t hear.”

She stares at me, more assertively this time. “I don’t want you to fuck Cherry.”

“Are you possessive of me, baby?”

“No. It’s for myself. If you won’t leave me alone, I refuse to be your or anyone else’s side piece.”

“If you say so.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“If you touch any other woman, I’ll go find my type.”

“The Stuart variety? I’m sure your family would hire someone to kill him before adding that name to their repertoire. Maybe I can do them the favor.”

She huffs, eyes dripping with pure mischief. “That’s where you’re mistaken. My family always wanted me to end up with the Prince Charming type. Pretty sure they’d approve of Stuart.”

My jaw clenches. “Not if he somehow ends up disfigured.”

“Do you have to use violence for everything?”

“Not everything, no. Just whatever stands in my way.” I stroke her cheek. “Don’t be that, baby. All right?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

I let my lips stretch into a smirk as I see myself in her bright, determined eyes. It’s the only time I’ve looked forward to looking in a mirror. “That's what I like about you, my little rabbit.”

Her lips fall open in an O and then she closes them and reaches for her bag to retrieve a sandwich.

I snatch it out of her hand and push it to the side.

“Give it back,” she grumbles. “I’m hungry.”

“And this is junk.”

“Better than starving.”

“I knew you had trouble taking care of your physical needs. I bet you’re the type who stays up all night doing some passion project, sleeps two hours, then goes to class with dark circles.”

“How…the hell do you know that?” She narrows her eyes. “Are you psychic?”

“When it comes to you? Always.” I reach into my backpack and fetch the container I prepared early this morning and place it on her lap.

She looks at it expectantly. “Will I find a dead rat in this?”

“Shh. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“You’re not funny.”

“So you keep telling me, but I promise it’s not my intent to be. Now, open it.”

Her eyes turn to slits, but she slowly opens the container and pauses. I took extra care in making rice, shrimp, two types of salad and some eggs.

“Wow.” Her lips part. “You…made this?”

“Yeah. Look, I even did a smiley face with the vegetables on the rice.”

Her shoulders shake with laughter. “That’s a very creepy smile and looks more horror-esque.”

“At least I tried.” I pass her the utensils. “Now, eat.”

She takes a bite of the rice, doing her best not to ruin the smiley face, then she goes for the salad and the shrimp.

“This is so good. I didn’t have any homemade meals since my last visit home.”

“That’s because you’re shit at keeping up with your bodily needs.”

“Hey, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” She swallows a spoonful of rice. “Besides, you must’ve tortured your cook to make you this.”

“No, I actually did it myself.”

She chokes and I retrieve a bottle of water, uncap it, and give it to her. I pat her back as she drinks. “I know you’re touched, but you have to keep it together, baby.”

Glyndon finishes drinking and stares at me from beneath her lashes. “You…made this?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But it’s so delicious.”

“And someone like me can’t make something delicious?”

“That’s not what I said. I’m just surprised.”

“That I pay attention to your bodily needs?”

“And that you cook.”

“I don’t. This is the first time I’ve tried it.”

“What?” She nearly chokes again and I keep the bottle of water on the ready. “I mean, what? How can you make something this tasty on your first try?”

“Internet recipes. Ever heard of them?”

“My internet recipe trials have been major disasters to the point that Mum kicked me out of the kitchen. After I lit the stove on fire.”

“Lucky for you, I’m an okay cook.”

“Are you trying to piss me off by being modest? You’re like a genius.”

“So everyone keeps saying today as if it’s a new discovery. I was born a genius, baby.”

“Don’t be cocky.”

“It’s my charm, though.”

She rolls her eyes but continues eating, releasing a satisfied noise every now and then. It’s similar to a moan, but not really, and I could watch her all day.