God of Malice: Chapter 21

The scene unfolds in slow motion.

One moment, Gareth is standing in front of me, and the next, he’s being thrown against the wall with Killian in tow.

Raw power simmers from him like a deadly volcano. The type that’s been dormant for centuries and decided to erupt in a fraction of a second.

I’ve seen Killian as a soulless devil, a ruthless monster, and an erotic god, but this is the first time I’ve seen him this angry.

And the most terrifying part is that his expression remains nonchalant, blank even. Despite the solid exterior, one thing gives away the state of his rage—his dead eyes.

They’re not blue anymore, but more black, almost the same color as his narrow pupils. Mum once told me that some people give a ‘back off’ look and it should never be ignored.

This is worse than back off. This is nothing short of a declaration of war and a thirst to spill blood.

The raw power shakes me to my bones even though it’s not directed at me.

Gareth, however, smiles, and it’s the widest I’ve seen on his usually composed face. “What do we have here? The mighty Killer getting all emotional? We should FaceTime Dad to give him the news.”

“Listen here, you motherfucker.” Killian’s clipped voice makes my stomach drop. “I have zero fucks to give about all your golden-boy actions, but touch what’s mine and I’ll make sure you pay the price tenfold. You know that, I know that, and your remaining functioning neurons will know that, too, before I knock them the fuck out. I’m well aware of what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work, so how about you tuck your tail where it belongs, hmm?”

“I’d say it’s working perfectly. Look at all that rage, that fire, that destructive energy. How does it feel to lose the mask, little brother? You want to kill me, don’t you? You’ve fought against your nature for nineteen years—a whole nineteen years of blending in, fooling Mom and Dad, Grandpa, Aunt. Everyone. You did so well and slipped into the crowd effortlessly. You even became a good boy. A fucking social icon who everyone either wants to emulate or fuck, but that holds no meaning if you’re nothing more than a shell, does it?”

My lips part, trembling, and it’s definitely not due to the violence from a few moments ago. That looks like a kid’s game compared to this.

It’s like I’m witnessing two titans warring for a position on the sun. Gareth provoked Killian on purpose, as if he’s waited a long time to say that.

And the worst part is that Gareth shouldn’t be like this. He wasn’t born evil, but years of living with someone like Killian must’ve taught him a thing or two. And right now? He’s using the words he knows will hurt his brother the most.

But at the same time, is it really right to use someone’s weakness against him? How can we become different from manipulators and narcissists if we act the same way?

Killian’s upper lip lifts in a snarl before a cruel smirk takes over. “So what if I am a shell? What’s so grandiose about a core anyway? Should I get one like yours? Easily bruised, broken, and discarded? Easily…forgotten?”

All this time, Gareth has kept his hands by his sides, but now, he clutches Killian’s T-shirt with enough strength to make his biceps bulge. “You’re the one who’s easily forgotten. After all, your girlfriend prefers me.”

“That’s not true,” I say in a clear, surprisingly leveled voice. “I’m neither his girlfriend nor do I prefer either of you.”

In hindsight, I should’ve never gotten between brothers, not even if it’s about Devlin. There’s a lot of bad mojo about getting involved with brothers.

“Are you sure, Glyn?” Gareth is speaking to me, but his entire attention is on Killian. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to see what my lips tasted like?”

My cheeks heat, but before I can say anything, Killian punches Gareth in the face so hard, blood splatters on the wallpaper.

I shriek, still unable to move, but I search either side of me for the bodyguards from earlier. None of them are in sight, or maybe they know by experience not to get involved in their quarrels.

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you, Gareth. I’ll make it look like an accident and have my hand on Mom’s shoulder while she cries at your funeral. I’ll even become Dad’s golden boy and make him forget you ever existed. A few years from now, no one will visit your grave anymore and I’ll be the only child this time. You’ll be erased so effortlessly that not a memory of you will be left. So think carefully about that bleak ending next time you consider touching what’s fucking mine.”

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.”

His fingers tighten on my throat and it’s like I’m gasping for air through a straw again.

And the most embarrassing part is, my undies are utterly soaked, and I think he feels it. I think he knows exactly the type of effect he has on me.

“Did you think I’d let him touch what’s mine and live to talk about it?” He tugs me close by the neck and tilts his head down until his lips nearly touch mine and I can see my reflection in his savage eyes.

Do I really look that aroused?

I yelp as he yanks down my underwear and thrusts three fingers inside me at the same time.

A choked sob tears from my throat, and although it should be due to pain or discomfort, it’s actually due to relief.

I’ve been in a constant mode of stimulation ever since he strangled me and it’s only gotten worse with time.

“Feel that? That’s your cunt welcoming my fingers home. That’s your cunt knowing who the fuck owns it, touches it, and brings it pleasure. If someone dares to look at it, let alone contemplate touching it, they’ll be an MIA statistic, am I clear?”

A whimper rips from me and it’s sick.

I’m sick.

He’s clearly threatening to hurt people, but I can’t seem to take that into account as I drip all over his fingers, rocking my hips unconsciously at first, then intentionally.

“This is my pussy.” Thrust. “My property.” Thrust. “Fucking mine.”

A strangled gasp spills from my throat as my core pulses for the orgasm.

But just when I’m about to scream, he pulls out his fingers.

My eyes widen, staring at him, then at the place that he definitely didn’t satisfy.

“You don’t get to come after that little show of yours. This isn’t a reward.”

A frustrated sound echoes in the air and I realize it’s mine when he picks me up and throws me on the bed.

I can breathe for the first time, but I don’t focus on the animal-like sounds escaping me or the ache between my legs.

There’s something much worse.

Killian.

He tugs his shirt over his head, revealing the hard planes of his abs and stomach. Under the current tension, his physique appears massive, a weapon that can inflict both pleasure and pain.

Even the birds with broken feathers flying up his side appear more ominous. Destructive.

Killian proceeds to remove his trousers and boxers with infinite ease. He actually takes his time with the task, as if knowing exactly how nervous his methodical calm makes me.

I slide back against the mattress. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He steps toward me with the grace of a black panther. “Finishing what I started.”

“Killian…”

“Yes, Glyndon?”

“Stop… I mean, let’s talk about this.”

“I’m done talking.”

“I’ll scream.”

“By all means, do. No one will hear you, and if they do, we can fuck on their blood if you’re not squeamish.”

I think I’m going to throw up. I wish this was him trying to scare me and that deep down, these were empty words, but this is Killian, after all.

He’s on me now, his hand fisting my dress. I try to stop him as he pulls the piece of clothing over my head and throws it away. I try to fight as he unclasps my bra and slings it to the floor. And in my attempts, I don’t think about what I’m doing—my hands flying everywhere until I’m naked in his arms.

It’s panic, I think.

If I don’t get a hold of myself, I’m going to lose before I even start.

Killian is on top of me, and his fingers flick my nipples so that both of them harden to sensitive peaks. “I’m never going to get enough of your gorgeous fucking tits.”

I place a shaky hand on his chest, on the physical perfection that is his abdomen and cut muscles and try to smooth my voice as much as possible. “You said you’d give me time.”

He doesn’t remove my hand, but he doesn’t push me down and force my legs open either. His fingers continue flicking my nipple back and forth, back and forth in an agonizing rhythm.

“That was before you decided it was a good idea to seduce my brother.”

“I didn’t seduce him.”

“His lips were on yours.”

“Like Cherry’s lips and tongue were on yours.”

“Your jealousy turns me the fuck on, but I didn’t kiss Cherry. She kissed me.”

“And I didn’t kiss Gareth.”

“Hmm.” He pinches my nipple hard and I whimper. “Is that so?”

“Yes, I promise. I didn’t want to kiss him.”

“Or see what his lips taste like?”

“Or that.” I soften my voice.

“Good call. They’re probably disgusting.” He’s caressing my nipples now, more pleasure than pain, but it’s the mild type of pleasure, the pleasure that’s not enough to stimulate my core, but I can put up with it if I can tame the tiger.

“Killian, please.” I test the waters and push him. He surprisingly lets me, so I do it again until he’s almost on his back.

But before he lies down, he becomes as hard as granite. “Nice try, baby. You almost got me there. I’m so fucking proud of how your cunning nature shows through.”

My breath hitches as he opens my legs wide and settles between them. “But we’ve got a score to settle. See, all types of parasites keep floating around you because I didn’t stake my claim yet, and that needs to change.”

I slowly close my eyes, admitting defeat. And the moment I do, a feeling I never thought I’d be experiencing under the circumstances washes over me.

Relief.

Complete, utter, and unmatched relief.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I murmur.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” My word is barely a murmur, but it feels so right, so liberating.

“I’ll try not to hurt you…much.”

Don’t try, I want to say but keep it to myself.

“Eyes on me when I fuck you, baby.”

I don’t want to.

That will just remind me of what I am. Of what type of deviant I’ve become.

Killian is the worst monster I know, but he’s the only person I’ve wanted with twisted depravity.

The only person who provokes the hidden part of me from the shadows and makes me stare at them under the light.

It’s uncomfortable at first, but as time goes on, it’s…so peaceful.

“I said”—his fingers squeeze my throat as he lifts my leg high and thrusts inside me in one ruthless go—“look at me.”

My eyes shoot open, clashing with his as searing pain tears me from the inside.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “I knew you’d be so tight and fucking perfect for me, baby.”

I shriek from the pain and something else I can’t pinpoint. Oh God, I’m the wettest I’ve ever been in my life, but it still hurts.

It hurts so much that tears slide down my cheeks.

It hurts so much that pleasure pools between my legs.

The addition of his fingers on my neck adds a primitive type of stimulation that robs my breaths and thoughts.

It’s like an out-of-body experience where I’m floating in a parallel universe that only my mind can reach.

“Your blood is making a mess of the sheets,” Killian groans. “Do you see the welcoming ceremony your cunt is holding for me?”

I shake my head, but he lifts me up by his grip on my neck and makes me see the blotches of blood on the white covers. He makes me see the in and out of his cock that’s covered with both blood and arousal as he rams into me.

His intensity increases with each passing second and so does the firm hold he has on my neck.

“Mmm. I knew red was my favorite color.”

He pushes me on my back again and pins me in place so effortlessly, it makes me quiver.

A bizarre emotion floats through me the more he’s in control. The more he dominates me, making me utterly helpless.

Without words, he’s telling me that I have no say in this, that if he wants to ruin me, he will. That if he wants to break me, he will.

Instead of hurting me, he’s choosing to fuck me.

Not so nicely, definitely without a gentle bone in his body, but I can tell he was holding back when he first entered me earlier.

I can also tell that it didn’t come naturally to him and he probably struggled with restraining his beast.

I can tell because the rocking of his hips has increased in intensity. My body slides across the mattress and if it weren’t for his palm angling my thigh and his grip on my throat, I’d be tumbling off the bed.

He touches with such nonnegotiable dominance that the only thing I can do is surrender and completely let go.

With each thrust, he goes deeper, stronger. The sound of my arousal and the in and out movements make me delirious and downright mad.

No one told me there would be an infinite amount of emotions flowing through me all at once.

No one told me it’d be this…otherworldly.

Pleasure pools between my thighs and the sharp ache subsides. There’s still some pain, probably from how big he is, but it’s muted by the pulsing erotic friction that happens right after.

Then he hits a secret spot, once, twice. My mouth opens in a wordless cry before all sorts of noises escape me.

“Look at how much of a mess you are, little rabbit. You sure you didn’t want me to fuck you not too long ago? Because you were made for my cock.” He settles on his knees and throws my foot on his shoulder. “Keep it there, baby, and you may want to hold on to the sheets.”

I don’t understand what he’s doing until he slides almost all the way out, then pounds in again. The different angle gives him a new depth that makes my lips fall open.

The beat of my heart jumps on and on until I’m scared it’ll be on the floor.

I can’t constrain the noises that slip out of my mouth, and even as I grip the sheets, it’s impossible to hold on in the midst of his animalistic rhythm that gets more intense with each second.

“Killian…slow down…”

His eyes rage with a color I’ve never seen before—a lighter blue, a living blue. A blue so bright, it’s almost impossible to imagine it on someone like him.

He thrusts in again, deeper. “I don’t think I can keep my promise about not hurting you much, baby.”

I rock my hips and release the sheets to place a shaky palm on his chest as I lift myself up. I think he’ll slap my hand away since he didn’t really like me touching him yesterday.

But he lets me get up a little, loosening his hold on my neck, though he doesn’t release me. We change positions so that I’m cocooned in his arms as I’m sitting up more.

“It’s okay…” I whisper, trying to match his in and out.

“If you think doing that will make me finish faster and get me off your case…” he trails off, his rhythm faltering for a bit when I slide my palm from his chest to his neck and then to his cheek. “What the fuck are you doing now?”

“Connection, ever heard of it?”

“Don’t be stupid. If you fall for me, you’ll only get hurt.”

“The fact that you worry about me getting hurt is enough.”

“Not worry.” Thrust. “Think.”

“At least you’re thinking about me.” My voice breaks.

“Don’t romanticize me or you’ll be eaten alive.”

“Aren’t you eating me already?”

“This is not eating. This is an appetizer.”

I believe every word he says, and I know what’s coming is probably worse, but I still close the distance between us and brush my lips against his. They’re surprisingly soft, though thinned and a bit mean, like him.

“How about this then?” I whisper against his mouth.

“Still not eating.” He shoves me down on his lap and pounds into me from below. “Open your mouth.”

When I do, he angles my jaw up with his thumb. “Tongue out.”

I slowly stick it out, and he sucks it into his mouth, biting on it and kissing me open-mouthed, his lips clashing with mine at the same rhythm as his cock is plowing inside me.

There’s no way I’ll last long.

I don’t.

My whole body is caught in a trance, being completely and utterly ravaged by a monster.

Completely and utterly satiated.

I come with a cry that he swallows with his lips, allowing me only fragments of air.

But he goes on and on until I think he’ll never come.

He stops every few minutes to change positions. First, I’m on my side, then I’m lying facedown and he’s on top of me. Next, I’m on all fours, and he’s behind me. The entire time, he bites me—on my breasts, my shoulders, my hips, my thighs—anywhere his mouth can reach.

Finally, he puts me on his lap again and his back straightens. His hand on my throat tightens as his lips trap and suck mine, turning them all bruised.

“Fuck,” he grunts as his hips jerk. “Fucking fuck, I could stay in your cunt forever.”

Then I feel him twitching and releasing deep inside me. He pulls out, then gathers his cum with his fingers and thrusts them back in me. Over and over until I think I’m going to come again.

“We can’t have you wasting any drops.”

I’m half-dazed, not able to make out my surroundings, but I can feel him placing me on the mattress.

I can also feel his warmth gone before he’s back again and something tender is placed between my legs.

A whole-body shudder goes through me when he kisses my folds and whispers against them, “You saved this cunt for me because I’m the only one who gets to own it, baby.”