Chapter 25: God of Wrath: Chapter 25

It’s been twenty minutes since we arrived at this VIP club and I’m already regretting letting Ava drag me into this.

I swear she’s a magnet for trouble and has been screwing herself, and me, in retrospect, ever since we were children.

She often comes up with ideas for fun, which always include breaking some rule, like staying out after curfew and treading into prohibited places.

And we often get caught. Papa’s always disappointed that I’ve done something like that, while Aunt Silver and Mum give us an earful. Ava pretends to understand and reflect on her actions, but soon after, she goes back to her rule-breaking habit.

But despite that, she never lets the blame fall on me and will say things like, “I’m sorry, Aunt Kim, for corrupting your daughter, but please don’t take her away from me.”

It was only after we grew up that I realized Ava does this to satiate a hungry beast inside her. She’s not doing it for attention like many others, since she tries her hardest not to get caught. She’s doing it for herself.

As if trying to feel alive.

The reason she drags me along every time is for a sense of safety, because she knows I have her back.

Also, she really believes I’m wasting away my youth by not taking part in all the parties and adrenaline-filled activities.

But no matter how many clubs she drags me to, I still can’t get used to the feeling of being swarmed by so many people and so much noise.

This club in particular is crowded with enough humans to populate a continent. Not really, but that’s how it feels.

Blue and violet lights cover the dome structure of the ceiling like laser beams as a trendy DJ plays one hit song after another.

Bodies wiggle, shake, and slither like snakes all over each other. The stench of strong perfumes, sweat, and musk mix together and suffocate my breathing.

Everything does. The loud music, the vibration of the floor beneath us, the shouting, hollering, dancing, and more dancing.

It’s an absolute sensory overload that makes me want to hide in a corner.

But I can’t, because Ava just had her third shot. I pull the fourth from her fingers and yell, “That’s enough!”

“Don’t be a killjoy!” She tries to fight me for her shot and I keep it out of reach.

But Ava is a bit taller than me, so she manages to grab hold of it. In a swift move, I snatch the shot back and down it, wincing at the strong burn, and she grins, then taps the counter for more.

“Ava!” I reprimand. “I can’t carry you on my own if you pass out from too much drinking.”

“Relax, I’m not going to reach that state—” she interrupts herself when the beat drops. “Woohoo! I love this song!”

Once the shots arrive, she sneakily throws one back and grabs my hand. “Let’s dance!”

“No!”

“Come on, Cecy. You look hot. May I have this dance?”

“No.”

She makes a face, but then she pushes through the crowd, swaying her hips and shaking in sync with the music.

I lean against the counter so I can have a clear view of her. My tight dress hunches up with the movement and I shove it back down so that it reaches my middle thigh.

Since Ava doesn’t get a lot of chances to play dress-up with me, she put me in this black dress with spaghetti straps that molds against my body.

Her first choice was a backless red one, but that was a hell no.

And heels. We can’t forget the heels that are currently murdering my feet.

But what makes me really uncomfortable is the fact that I’m wearing a dress. They used to be my preferred style when I was young since they made me feel like a princess.

But I almost never wear them ever since that night I was drugged in one and ripped it off me so easily.

I slide sideways to get a better view of Ava, who’s dancing, shaking her arse, and attracting a group of guys.

As they start approaching her, I push through the crowd and wrap an arm around her waist.

“You came!” She grabs me by the shoulder and makes me twirl. “You’re dancing!”

“No, I’m not. Let’s get out of here.” I discreetly motion to the side. “Some wankers have been eyeing you.”

“Looking is free. Touching is not.” She puts both her hands on my waist and makes me sway to the music with her.

All my attention remains on those guys and some sleazy older man who’s watching us and licking his lips.

My best friend is completely oblivious to them or the looks we get as she brings on her dancing A game.

“Relax, Cecy!” she tells me. “Can’t you turn off your brain for a second?”

I wish I could.

But I saw a bunch of people buying drugs in the corners. And that sleazy man just touched his junk while watching us.

There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to turn my brain off after witnessing some of these scenes. Even I realize that becoming overly suspicious and careful is a translation of my trauma.

The world isn’t a safe place.

And while I want to get out of here, I can’t just leave Ava alone. Those arseholes will probably pounce on her—not that they wouldn’t while I’m here, but I can at least try to save her.

The guys reach us first. All three are tall, well-dressed, and look like university kids. Probably a year older than me.

One of them, a curly-haired brunet, slides behind Ava, dancing to the same rhythm as her without touching her, and the two others, one a blond and the other with black hair, surround me.

My temperature rises to my throat, cheeks, and ears. I’m thinking about grabbing Ava’s hand and scramming the hell out of here, but she’s dancing with Curly Hair and wiggling her arse against him.

“Relax,” she mouths, probably seeing the doomsday reaction on my face.

Easy for her to say. I don’t know how the hell I’ll be able to even breathe properly in this atmosphere.

Curly Hair whispers something in her ear and she laughs and shouts back, “I’m Ava! That’s Cecily!”

“I love your name, Cecily,” the blond guy murmurs in my ear in an American accent, and my knee-jerk reaction is to elbow him in the side and run. “I’m Steven.”

“Larry,” the black-haired one supplies.

One of them, Steven, touches my arm. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin, but it’s respectful enough that I don’t feel threatening vibes.

I lift my head to look at Ava and she’s full-on dancing with the curly-haired one, both of them showing their moves. She slides her fingers through her hair and tips her head back in rhythm to the music.

I can’t help scanning our surroundings for Eli’s presence. If he has eyes here—and he has eyes everywhere—then she’s in deep trouble.

“Donovan and I are going to get some drinks!” she shouts and then disappears with the guy before I can stop her.

And I’m left with these two.

Larry remains behind me, dancing slowly to match my awkward rhythm while Steven comes in front of me and grabs my arm.

He picked up that I’m peeved out about being touched, so he’s been keeping his respectful distance, and I appreciate that. At least, I don’t feel the need to retch all over his designer shoes.

But I still want to remove myself from this situation.

Clubs are really not my scene.

And neither is peopling.

“I haven’t seen you around,” Steven shouts over the music as he and his friend basically sandwich me in the middle.

“I don’t usually do this,” I say with enough awkwardness to feel embarrassed.

“Figured! You’re too beautiful to be hidden away.”

My spine jerks upright and I stare at him with wide eyes.

Those exact words stumble in my brain, crashing and clawing until I’m unable to breathe.

said them to me when we first started dating.

No, this can’t be.

I’m imagining things, right?

Steven looks nothing like him, but maybe he knows him?

His hand slides from my arm to my waist, getting bolder and rougher.

I hyperventilate, but instead of breathing harshly, my body goes into a state of shock. It’s hardening and turning into stone.

No, no. I need to get out of here first.

I attempt to elbow him, but I’m not moving.

I move.

Larry’s clutching my hip now, his touch burning the material of my dress and branding itself on my skin.

I don’t want him to touch me, but I can’t stop him.

Hell, I can’t even breathe properly.

The state of helplessness rushes to the surface, bubbling with nausea and terrorizing fear.

Just when I think I’m going to be sick, a large hand grips Steven’s shoulder. A masculine, veiny, very familiar hand.

In a flash, Steven is wrenched back so powerfully that he nearly knocks out a few other people with him.

I swear my heart flutters when I see exactly who’s in front of me.

My eyes slide over Jeremy’s impressive build, the jeans and leather jacket that hug his muscles, before they finally lock on his cold, blank face.

While this isn’t particularly different from his usual expression, there’s something unusual now.

An emotion so potent, it lingers in the air and strikes me in my bones.

Wrath.

It drips off Jeremy in a deranged manner as he clutches Steven with apparent nonchalance but hidden rage.

The type that simmers beneath the surface and has dire consequences.

“Fuck off.” He throws Steven away as if he were no different than a useless rag.

Larry, who was behind me, goes to his friend’s side and casts a fearful look in our direction, probably recognizing Jeremy.

And while he’s not prone to violence in public, except for when it’s in the fighting ring, anyone on the island knows he’s not one to be messed with.

Even I know that.

And I still went to his mansion that first time. Sometimes, I hate and admire that version of me in equal measure.

Slowly, the stiffness unlocks from my muscles, but I remain frozen in place, for a completely different reason.

The fact that Jeremy is here. In public. Not attempting to hide our acquaintance.

Steven starts in our direction again, brushing off Larry who’s trying to hold him back.

“We were here first,” he snarls in Jeremy’s face, obviously not reading the atmosphere, and probably not recognizing him.

Jeremy drives his fist into Steven’s face so hard that the people surrounding us gasp.

He falls to the floor, clutching his bleeding nose and wailing.

“I said.” Jeremy towers over him. “Fuck. Off. Touch her again and a bleeding nose will be the least of your worries.”

Larry tries to help his friend up as he screams over the music, “Security! Security!”

Suddenly, a muscular blond guy appears behind them. The guard whom Annika said is called Ilya and acts as Jeremy’s senior guard.

He shares a look with Jeremy, then he singlehandedly drags both Steven and Larry out by a grip on the collars of their shirts.

And just like that, I’m left all alone with a beast of a man who’s staring at me as if he wants to throttle me.

Yes, there are people around us, lots of them, but they might as well be invisible under the invading scrutiny of his gaze.

He steps forward, killing the distance between us and crushing his chest against my breasts. My heart hammers as my nose fills with his scent.

It’s impossible to be unaffected when I’m overwhelmed by his warmth, presence, and that enchanting look in his ash eyes.

Silence hangs between us for a few intense seconds, and I resist the urge to blurt something incoherent. Then all of a sudden, he grabs hold of my elbow and basically shoves his way off of the dance floor, dragging me behind him. I have to jog to keep up with his long strides, and that just puts more pressure on my assaulted feet.

But it’s impossible to end this hurricane or to escape the wrath that’s radiating off him in waves.

He storms down the hall and stops in front of a room that’s guarded by a man in a black suit.

Upon seeing us, he nods at Jeremy and opens the leather-studded door. Jeremy barely nods at the man before he drags me inside and swings the door shut.

All the chaos, music, and chatter from outside dies down. My heavy breathing becomes loud in the silence of what I think is a VIP room.

Two elegant velvet sofas sit opposite each other with a glass coffee table between them.

But I barely focus on the details when Jeremy slams me against the wall. The aggressive energy from earlier multiplies tenfold as his large hand grips me by the hip and his deep, angry-calm voice strikes me like a whip.

“Not only did you refuse to keep your side of the bargain and show up, but you also turned off your phone, wore fuck-me clothes, and came here to dance with some assholes.” His hand slides to where my dress stops at my thighs. “Did you think anyone else could touch you, Cecily? Hmm? That someone else would be able to put their fucking hands on what’s mine?”

Hand bunching in the material, he yanks the dress up in one go, making me gasp. “I’ll cut their wrists off before they come near my cunt.” He rips my underwear off and throws the shreds aside, then digs his fingers into my skin. “My ass.” He flings me against him and his jeans create friction against my stimulated core. “My fucking property.”

I bang a hand on his chest, lips trembling, as the onslaught of emotions and erotic stimuli rushes over me. “I’m not your property, Jeremy. I’m a person.”

“

person,” he nearly growls the words. “Next time you let anyone touch you, I’ll fuck you in their blood and make you come all over their corpse.”

In a swift movement, he frees his cock and bumps the crown against my clit.

Once.

Twice.

On the third time, I’m about to beg him for it like the wanton girl he trained me to be.

I’ve become so attuned to his rough handling that I’m dripping between my thighs.

Without any warning, he thrusts inside me in one violent go.

My back arches off the wall and a powerful shudder rips through me.

He lifts my legs so they’re wrapped around his sculpted waist as he drives into me with deep, harsh strokes that are meant to punish.

“This is the final time you ignore me. You will never come to a place like this without me again.”

I grab onto his neck with both hands. I feel like if I don’t hold on to him, I’ll fall to my face.

“We’re not in a relationship,” I say, despite my shattered voice. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“Being in a relationship or not doesn’t make you want me any less. Feel your cunt taking my cock so well and your body coming alive for me? No one else, .” He releases one of my arse cheeks and then slaps it. “Next time you let another dick near you, I want you to remember how you’re milking my cock like a dirty little whore.”

“You did it first,” I strain, unable to keep up with the rhythm as I bounce off his cock. “You had that girl hanging on your arm earlier. Why don’t you go to her and leave me alone?”

“Is that what you want?” He pulls out all the way to the tip, then slams back in, hitting my G-spot and turning me into a puddle of emotions. “You want me to ram my cock into another cunt?”

My mind goes awry at images of him with another woman, namely that blonde bombshell Maya.

“Tell me, Cecily. You want me to fuck her until she’s screaming my name?”

My lips tremble and I purse them shut before I say, “If you do that, I’ll sleep with someone else.”

I probably wouldn’t, because the idea of sex with someone other than Jeremy still scares the bejeesus out of me. But I won’t let him have the satisfaction of crumbling me to pieces.

His expression turns blank, too blank, as he slides his hand up my breasts and calmly wraps it around my throat. “And who is that someone, hmm? A guy who’ll kiss your body, caress you, and make love to you? That’s not what you want, Cecily. Far from it. You love being chased and degraded. You love being fucked into oblivion until you lose control. You love being my filthy little slut.”

And then he’s choking me as he drives into me harder. He fucks me like he owns every inch of me, like he can’t miss any part, any nook or cranny.

The more he confiscates my air, the tighter I grow around him, strangling his dick as he groans.

He likes having me so helpless, so pliant, so attuned to his ruthless rhythm that I moan because of it.

That I beg for more due to it.

In no time, he’s turned me into a masochist for his violence. I’m so used to him that I’ve been trained to crave his savagery.

My core clenches in short intervals, and when he hits my secret spot again, I’m spluttering due the lack of air and coming so hard, I feel like I might pass out.

But I don’t.

I stay there, being strangled against the wall as his cock plows into me, hard, fast, and unforgiving. Jeremy isn’t the type who comes quickly. He draws out his pleasure, needing to rearrange my insides before he even considers the option of coming.

He goes on and on until I think he’ll never be done. Just when I believe he’ll finally come, he changes our position. He fucks me against the sofa with my arse in the air and then on all fours on the floor with his fingers wrapped around my hair. Then on my back while he looms over me like a tyrant god.

One who needs blood sacrifices.

Because that’s what he does. He leans down, pulls on one of my breasts, and bites down on the soft flesh so hard, it burns.

Blood coats his lips when he lifts his head and growls, “Say my name.”

I purse my lips.

“Cecily, say my fucking name.”

A tear slides down my cheek, and I turn my head to the side, refusing to give him what he wants.

“I said. Say my name.” Jeremy bites down again and I scream in pain, but I don’t say his name.

He fucks me more ruthlessly than before, pounding into me until I slide across the floor. He fucks me like he needs me to feel every savage thrust.

He fucks me like he’s on the edge and I can either save or push him down the cliff.

It’s raw and dangerous. Illicit and primal.

Intense and punishing.

Then, finally, I feel his seed coating my insides in a long rush.

I’m sniffling, still trying to get my bearings when Jeremy pulls out of me, uses some tissues to clean my thighs, then hauls me to my unstable feet by my arm.

I pull away from him and smooth my dress, wincing when I cover the bite mark. Still, I refuse to make a sound and use all my dignity to remain composed. He’s turned me into his whore, but that’s only during sex.

If he thinks I’ll be his plaything in real life, he has another thing coming.

I smooth my hair and dab beneath my eyes, thankful for waterproof mascara.

For the life of me, I can’t understand why a mere touch from other guys turn me into a mess, but Jeremy is able to fuck me up, splinter my world to pieces, and I don’t feel threatened.

Hell, I’ve never had a panic attack around him.

A large body steps into my line of vision, and when I ignore him, he lifts my chin with his thumb and index finger, eyes narrowed and jaw set. “What the fuck was that all about?”

“If you want someone to say your name, go to your Maya.” I flip my hair, then I walk out of there. I want to waltz out like a badass, but I have to move as slowly as possible because I’m sore.

That’s when I remember something very important.

.