God of Malice: Chapter 23

“I expected betrayal from anyone in the world, but not from you, Glyn. Are you really abandoning me?”

My eyes snap open and a guttural noise echoes in the air. It’s my breathing, I realize, as I swallow the drool that’s gathered in my mouth.

I attempt to stand up, but a weight pins me in place.

Killian.

Or more like, his huge body.

I blink the sleep from my eyes at the feel of his bare skin on mine. I’m still on top of his chest, my softness draped over his hardness. I feel so small in his arms, but also…so protected.

I didn’t even think about his monster nature when I fell asleep cocooned by him after the bath.

What started as a cure to my soreness ended up with me fucked at the edge of the bathtub with my arse in the air and my fingers holding on to the wall for dear life. Literally.

Although I came twice, Killian took his sweet time, even more than the first time, and I honestly thought I would pass out from all the stimulation slashing through me.

When he finally finished, he kissed my forehead like some adoring lover and left me to soak in the water, half-dazed, sorer than the first time, but so utterly elated.

Then he left the bathroom and came back to help me rinse, then carried me to the bed whose sheets had been changed.

When I wanted to put on my clothes, he pushed my hand away. “Don’t. I want access to my pussy during the night.”

“Not unless you’re in the mood to drive me to the A&E in the morning.”

He merely chuckled, muttered, “Adorable,” then held me on top of him as if that was the most natural position in the world.

I’m the type who barely sleeps in unknown places. It’s a defense mechanism so that I can flee whenever possible.

So how could I sleep in the devil’s arms?

Though he’s a gorgeous devil with a body of steel. Even as he sleeps, I feel the hardness of his stomach and chest against my breasts and belly and his…dick between my legs. It’s definitely semi-hard and ready for more.

Does he ever get enough?

Actually, no. I don’t want to know the answer to that.

I lift my head to stare at his face. It’s almost as if he’s awake—the same eternal expression, the blankness in it, the hard edges of his features that belong to a model.

His attractive looks have always been a weapon in his games of destruction, so I tried to pay them no mind, but he’s so handsome. So cruelly beautiful. I could stare at him all day.

And I’m beginning to glamorize the bastard.

Which is dangerous.

Reaching behind me, I pull on his hand that’s spread across my back and slowly let it drop to the mattress.

I wait for a second, holding my breath, in case he moves.

When he doesn’t, I plant my palms on either side of his face and lift myself up. His dick slides from between my thighs and a low grunt leaves his lips.

I freeze, expecting to be pinned down by his lethal eyes and massive weight, but he remains in place.

Phew.

God, I could kill him right now. Maybe suffocate him while he sleeps and rid the world of his brand of evil.

But even as I entertain the thought, it’s just not who I am.

With huge discomfort and bursts of pain, I finally manage to stumble out of the bed. It takes me a few tries with lots of panting and internal cursing to put on my clothes—without underwear because I can’t find it.

It’s probably ruined anyway.

After fetching my phone from the floor, I wince at the dozen texts from my friends, then slip it in my bra and pause when I realize I smell like him. Woodsy like his shower gel that he lathered me with, but I also smell of sex.

That I’m beginning to only associate with him.

I cast one last glance at the room.

It’s as clinical as Killian. So impersonal that it could be anyone else’s bedroom if not for the medical books on the shelves.

I step backward, keeping my sights on him. There’s no way I’ll give him my back after earlier.

It cost me my virginity.

Not that I ever considered it anything special. I’d really never found anyone I wanted to give it up to, even if that made me the outcast at my previous school and with my friends.

Not to mention that any boyfriends I had in school were personally vetted by Landon, and something tells me he threatened them with murder if they touched me.

It bothered me a little, but not enough for me to throw a tantrum.

Truth is, I was too apathetic, and as much as I hate to admit it, I never wanted anyone with the same fire that I feel for Killian.

But I’m starting to learn he’s not only after my virginity as I initially thought.

Killian will keep escalating, like war—he’ll want more and more until I’m completely spent.

Until I have nothing left to give.

He’s that type of intensity. The storm you only feel when it’s wrecking you from the inside.

Literally and figuratively.

So I have to try and stay away and put up defenses. It’ll drain me and I’ll probably hate myself for it, too, but that’s okay.

I can do this.

Slowly, I open the door and step outside barefoot while holding my flats in hand.

Once I’m a safe distance away, I put them on and head to where I remember the stairs to be.

I pass several rooms—definitely a lot more than four people need. This mansion could easily house an army.

Or maybe ghosts.

The gothic quality with its baroque wallpaper, somber furniture, and ancient-looking candelabras definitely give it the right atmosphere for underworld meetings.

The only light comes from the dim crystal chandeliers hanging over halls and above the circular stairs.

Eerie silence permeates the air and it doesn’t help that it’s four in the morning. I become super conscious of the thud, thud, thud of my heartbeat.

Calm down, me. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong. I’m just trying to leave.

Though maybe I can snoop around in case there’s something to uncover about Devlin.

I quickly shake that idea away. I’ll just get caught, whether by the guards or by Killian. And I really can’t afford to be held captive by that monster again after I finally managed to escape his destructive orbit.

Besides, Gareth and I have a deal. He already kissed me, got me in trouble with Killian, and used his part of the bargain to his heart’s content.

“What do you mean they’re in my territory?”

My feet come to a halt at the base of the stairs at what I’m sure is Jeremy’s voice.

There’s a distinguishable harshness in it, an edge that quietly simmers under the surface.

It’s late, but that obviously holds no importance to Jeremy since he sounds wide awake.

“It all adds up with the timeline.” Gareth’s voice echoes in the air with eternal calm.

I feel like a rookie spy as sweat trickles down my back, and I hold my breath until I struggle with inhaling oxygen.

From the sound of their voices, they’re in a downstairs room that’s not far from the stairs.

“Is it a snake we know?” Jeremy asks.

“Probably.”

“The cockroaches are getting bold if they think they can barge into my territory as they please.”

Snakes?

Do they mean the Serpents? As in, the other powerful secret club that’s a complete mystery to the public? I don’t think they do initiations like the Heathens or the Elites.

The only thing known about them is that the Serpents exist, and they make their presence known by acts of complete anarchy.

The moment the public starts to forget about them, arson, damage of property, and other crimes hit the headlines.

“What will you do about it?” Gareth asks.

“Pay them back their dues, of course.”

“Your father won’t be happy if he knows you actively hurt someone from the Bratva.”

“That’s why he won’t know. Besides, he of all people realizes that if I don’t kill, I’ll be killed. The fight for the top starts right now, Gaz.”

Wait…

Does that mean the Serpents are also Russian mafia? I figured they’d be some sort of mafia, but how come they’re actively competing with Jeremy and Nikolai, who are from the same organization?

I take a step forward, my curiosity getting the better of me. I probably shouldn’t be privy to this information, but something tells me it’s important in the great scheme of things.

My foot trips over something big and hard, and I shriek as I tumble forward, gripping the railing for balance so that I don’t end up on my face.

A person. That’s what I stumbled over.

And he’s lying at the bottom of the stairs. No kidding. He’s on the carpet, facedown.

When I accidentally hit him, he grumbles, “Can’t anyone fucking sleep in this motherfucking house?”

I grip the railing tighter, staring at none other than Nikolai. He’s in boxers. That’s all.

His chest and back are a map of tattoos. Couple that with his messy long hair, angular features, and furrowed brow, and he has all it takes to induce fear into anyone’s soul.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I whisper and resist adding that I didn’t expect to find someone sleeping at the bottom of the stairs, considering all the rooms upstairs.

Nikolai narrows one of his eyes, then in one swift movement, he jumps up to his full height and barges into my space.

I automatically step back, but my shoes hit the step and I’m trapped under his scrutiny.

It’s like I’m being sized up for dinner—or something much more nefarious. I could swear there’s a glint in his eyes, the one hunters get after spotting prey, but it soon vanishes.

“Nope, not the right one.” The disappointment in his tone makes me pause.

But I don’t have time to think about his words before Jeremy and Gareth stalk in from wherever they were.

Fully clothed, thank God.

“Didn’t know we had a guest,” Jeremy says casually, his voice losing all the tension from a minute ago.

Gareth slides a hand in his pocket, his expression is unreadable. “Killer’s guest.”

I can feel my ears heating. He probably knows what we’ve been up to.

God, can the earth open up and swallow me, please?

Jeremy studies me with no change in his expression. “Anoushka’s least annoying roommate.”

“My friends are not annoying,” I say without thinking, definitely bolder than I’d ever act, especially considering the fact that I’m being surrounded by three predators, with another one just upstairs.

Not to mention that Nikolai is still in my space, watching me with that one narrowed manic eye of his.

“The blonde has a social butterfly complex and the silver-haired one is…” Jeremy trails off. “Bland to put it mildly. She’s also teaching Anoushka bad habits. When I said annoying, I was being nice.”

Seriously, what’s with these wankers saying they’re nice when they’re exhibiting antisocial behavior?

Still, I keep my chin up. “Whether Ava chooses to be a social butterfly or not is her business. She didn’t overstep your or anyone’s boundaries by doing that, so you have no right to judge her. And Cecily isn’t bland. She’s the purest, most selfless soul to ever exist.”

“A synonym for bland,” he shoots back, and I’m ready to claw his eyes out.

And it’s okay if I get myself killed in the meantime.

I might not care if insults are thrown my way, but I’d cut a bitch for my friends.

The moment I open my mouth to let whatever word vomit spill, Nikolai advances closer in front of me so that he’s on the same step as me.

Any words I had to say die in my throat as I stare up at him. He’s so tall, my neck almost snaps back from the angle. His bare chest nearly grazes mine and I can see the pores in his skin.

“I say, there are some similarities. Think I can draw a kitten by using another kitten?” He reaches an open palm to my face as if he intends to cover it and slam me against the nearest object.

Before I can try to duck, something hits Nikolai’s forehead. His skull swings backward and he flies toward the ground.

He falls on his back with a loud, haunting thud, and the weapon of the crime, an American football, rolls beside him.

“And he scores,” Jeremy says with unveiled amusement.

A sudden chill trickles down my spine, but I don’t get the chance to look behind me.

I don’t get a chance to move.

A larger-than-life presence appears by my side. I hate the warmth that accompanies the woodsy and amber scent. It’s a smokescreen that there’s a person beneath it all, when I’ve seen firsthand that that’s not the case.

I catch a glimpse of his bare chest, the haunting tattoos, and the unnaturally bulging muscles. It’s as if he’s suppressing something.

Or maybe he’s not bothering to camouflage his true nature.

But hey, at least he put on some pants.

I don’t dare look at him, and instead, remain focused on Nikolai, who jumps up as if he wasn’t knocked out.

“The actual fucking fuck, Satan’s heir? What’s with throwing motherfucking objects at me lately? Did you get fucking tired of living?”

Killian grabs me by the throat and I yelp as he pushes my back against the railing and captures my lips with his own.

Then he uses my bewilderment state to thrust his tongue inside. He dominates mine, makes me complete and utter putty in his hands.

I’m helpless, but I still try to fight. I put my hands on his chest to push him away, but that only causes his roughness to reach new, exhilarating levels.

His fingers spread on my neck and he kisses me with feverish control. He kisses like he’s fucking me, like he’s having his way with me again, and I have no choice but to take it.

But I’m not his plaything.

I bite his lip and he bites my tongue, harder, until a metallic taste explodes in my mouth.

Whether it’s his or mine, I have no clue.

What I’m sure about is that the war of tongues, lips, and teeth only gets more potent with each passing second until I’m sure my head will explode.

His other hand wraps possessively around my hip and he slams me against the front of his body.

My curves are crushed by his ruthless harshness, and in hindsight, no amount of forts I could build would be able to resist the war that is Killian Carson.

He was always meant to break me to pieces and force me to enjoy every minute of it.

Maybe it’s useless to fight.

Maybe I should’ve cut my losses at the beginning. Because obviously, my resistance is what got him interested in me in the first place.

Like an animal with sharp instincts, Killian must feel the dissipation of my fight, because he delves deeper, his tongue ravaging mine until I whimper from the fierce power.

His kiss is damnation in its purest form, and while I thought he wasn’t what I wanted, maybe this monster is exactly what I need.

Once he feels like he driven his point home, Killian steps back, his lips leaving mine puffy, swollen, and definitely with a cut that burns.

Then he slowly unclasps his fingers from around my throat and tugs me to his side by a firm grip on my hip, making us face the others.

My face feels like a sauna as I realize the earlier show happened in front of his friends.

Shit.

Is it too late to dissolve into nothing?

Gareth’s brows are creasing. Jeremy is smiling, and Nikolai’s mouth is open.

“She’s mine and, therefore, off-limits,” Killian announces in a calm, threatening voice, staring between his brother and cousin. “Off-fucking-limits.”

And then he throws me over his shoulder like a damn caveman and carries me back upstairs.

I push at his back as blood rushes to my head. “What are you doing? Let me down!”

“No can do. You obviously thought sneaking out of my bed like a fucking thief was a good idea and we have to prove otherwise.”

I try to kick my legs in the air.

Slap.

I freeze as the sting registers in my arse. Did he just spank me?

My eyes widen, and I hang there, stupefied, as he kicks the door to his room open and throws me on the bed.

I don’t focus on the soreness or the ache when I glare up at him. “You should pick up being a caveman as a hobby.”

Killian kicks the door shut and advances toward me with a dark expression. “Shut the fuck up, Glyndon. You don’t want to provoke me when I’m stopping myself from going back down there and murdering my own brother and cousin for getting so close to you.”

I swallow, the gravity of the situation making my heart skyrocket. “You wouldn’t, right?”

“You tell me since you’re the one who thought it was a wonderful idea to flaunt yourself in front of them.”

“I only wanted to leave.”

“You don’t get to leave when you’re sleeping in my fucking arms, Glyndon. I let my guard down because you were with me, but I should’ve known better than to trust a conniving little rabbit. Maybe I’ll chain you to me now. Put a bell around your fucking neck so I can hear you leaving. Or maybe a Taser so no one touches you while I’m not there.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I’m going back, after all. Fucker Nikolai didn’t bleed.”

He turns around to leave and do what he promised.

And while I don’t really care about Gareth or Nikolai, I don’t want anyone’s blood on my conscience.

Besides, this is what he looks like when his control is confiscated. It’s the first time I’ve see him out of sorts and knowing I’m the reason fills me with a strange type of empowerment.

He’s cold, calculating, allows no emotions in his armor, but he gave me this power over him.

Unintentionally, but it’s there and I want it.

“Killian, wait,” I whisper before I can think properly about my words.

He tilts his head in my direction with his hand on the doorknob.

I tap the mattress. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes. “What the fuck are you playing at now?”

“Nothing, I just want to sleep.”

“You’re more readable than a newspaper, and you want me to believe that you have no ulterior motive behind your unusual request?”

“No,” I say it, and I believe it, too. “Please.”

He watches me for a beat, his body still turned to the door, and I think he’ll ignore me and proceed with whatever violence plot he has, but he releases the doorknob and stalks in my direction.

My heart nearly drops to my stomach as he removes his trousers and slides to my side, then pulls me atop of him.

“Leave again and I will fucking tie you to me,” he whispers against my forehead.

“I won’t,” I murmur back and resist the urge to kiss his chest. What the hell?

It’s just an unnatural reaction to the fact that he allowed himself to be stopped by me.

There’s absolutely nothing more to it.

Right?

Killian’s lips meet my forehead and I’m pretty sure something jostles in my heart when he murmurs, “That’s my girl.”