God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(76)

I want to think this is an empty threat like the ones Remi makes all the time, but there’s no hint of joking in his tone.

There’s no hint of…second thoughts.

The fact that he probably meant every word he said forces me to take an automatic step backward, then another.

I don’t look at what’s behind me, scared that a mere blink will be enough to get me decapitated.

After a few steps, I turn around and run.

I have no clue where I’m going or how, but that doesn’t matter as long as I’m out of here. I run and run, probably looking like a lunatic, but I still can’t get away fast enough.

Or far enough.

I should probably make sure Gareth is okay, but it’s not like he’ll actually kill him. Besides, he survived Killian all these years, surely this one will slide, too.

Right?

My feet come to a halt soon after I round the corner. There’s no way I’m going back in there, but maybe I can find Jeremy or Nikolai and tell them to break the fight apart.

I’m not one step in when a merciless hand wraps around my neck and pushes me back so forcibly, the breath is knocked out of my lungs.

My spine hits a solid edge, a door, before it’s swung back and I’m thrust inside a bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going, my little rabbit?”

Dark blue eyes crash into mine with the lethality of a natural disaster, a train wreck, and a war. Combined.

There’s no other word to describe Killian other than intense, and I’m right in the middle of his madness. The eye of the storm.

I claw at his wrist with my nails, even though he’s not squeezing. I just don’t want to be at his mercy—or the lack thereof.

“You want to fight? I’ll give you a reason to fight.” His hold tightens and he shoves his knee between my legs, slapping them apart and thrusting his thigh against my core. “I could choke the living fuck out of you right now, and there’s nothing you could do about it. Is that what you want, hmm?”

I try to shake my head, but I don’t know if it moves. The lack of oxygen turns me lightheaded. The good kind. The kind that throbs in my core and against his jeans.

Shit.

Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.

My senses are heightened to an extent I’ve never felt before. My head thrums in an irregular rhythm causing my eyes to droop, but I can smell him deep in my bones. The woodsy, amber scent is no different than an intoxicating substance. Like alcohol.

Or drugs.

No, probably worse.

My stomach quivers as I inhale every painstaking drag, on and on, my belly drops and fills and empties in a rhythm I can’t keep up with.

But the worst part is that my hands that are clawing at any part I can reach, but I don’t think it’s to push him off me anymore. I just want the pads of my fingers on his skin, my blunt nails leaving marks on him as he does on me.

“Or maybe you’d like that.” He presses his thumb against my pulse point with the brutality of a savage animal. “Maybe being choked turns you the fuck on like it makes me fucking hard.”

I should be appalled by the suggestion, should try to scratch his eyes out, but something entirely different slips from my mouth.

A moan.

I want to find excuses, to say it’s a moan of pain, or discomfort, but I can’t think straight, let alone attempt to trick my brain.

Killian’s lips pull in a cruel smirk. He’s not happy about this, on the contrary, the anger from earlier is slowly gathering in the stormy blues of his eyes.

They’re a shade darker now.

Charcoal, black, and every cold hue that hasn’t seen the sun.

“I knew you were more than your looks suggested. You had this clean, innocent, and utterly pretty aura, but really, you’re nothing more than a dirty little whore, aren’t you? All this fighting and running and fucking shenanigans were just a way to provoke me so I’d throw you down and fuck you on all fours like a fucking animal. Or maybe so I’d shove you headfirst against the nearest surface, like this wall, and fill you up with my cum.”

His free hand slides over my aching breasts and he cups one violently. “Tell me, were you thinking of me when you wore this red dress or was it for Gareth?”

Pleasure starts where he’s touching my breasts and ends in my core, and all I can do is focus on it.

“Answer the fucking question, Glyndon. Is he the one you wanted to feel up these pretty little tits and make these perky nipples all hard?” He pinches one and I gasp. “You always wanted the nice guy; too bad you got the fucking villain.”

“It wasn’t him…” I choke out.

“Come again?” He loosens his grip so I can breathe properly.

“The dress is for…you,” I admit on a breath.

I think that will delight him, but his face remains on the edge.

“It was for me, huh?” His hand slides from my breast to my hip, then he shoves the skirt of my dress to my waist, exposing my thighs and underwear. “You even put on lace panties and came prepared to be fucked.” He rubs his fingers against them and I can’t pretend to close my eyes out of pure mortification. “Are you sure it’s for me? Or are you saying that to please me?”

I shake my head.

“The thought of you dolling up to seduce my brother drives me fucking insane. The thought of you imagining his fucking fingers on my pussy while you were cleaning and dressing it makes me see red.”