God of Wrath: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 3)

Two weeks pass in a blur.

A crazy, twisted blur that I can’t keep up with.

The moment I start to adjust, Jeremy pulls the rug from beneath my feet and we go back to square one.

Every night, I have to show up at the cottage. If I don’t, his shadow will loom wherever I am. Whether I’m at the shelter, the library, or out with friends.

Anywhere.

He’s become a seasoned stalker who’s everywhere. He doesn’t need to say anything to prove his existence—his actions speak louder than words.

There’s nothing more frightening or threatening than his mere presence that he thoroughly uses to intimidate people—me included.

The thought of him acting on his threats and actually telling everyone what I enjoy doing in the dark terrorizes me more than I like to admit.

So every night, after the girls fall asleep, I sneak out of the flat like a thief and drive to the gothic place in the middle of nowhere.

It’s where I’m veiled by night. No one sees when I go to take part in my depraved tendencies, and no one hears when I scream as he fucks me into oblivion.

Because he does, and often, sometimes a few times during the same night.

He chases me whether inside the house or all over the property. The harder I run and fight him, the more animalistic he becomes, like a primal being who’s staking his claim.

The louder I scream, the deeper he goes, exposing and provoking the darkest parts of me.

He makes me beg sometimes, too, and always tells me to scream his name when he’s fucking me, smashing my world to pieces and ripping it apart.

Jeremy is a savage devil and an unapologetic sociopath. I know because I’ve been around him long enough to put an appropriate label on him.

Though he might be a psychopath, considering his lack of impulsive actions. He always seems in control, the commander of his being, and a planner. But he somehow cares for those closest to him, namely Annika, and his Heathen gang.

His parents, too, according to what his sister tells us.

But I’m not sure if that’s genuine care or a sense of responsibility that’s been implemented in him ever since he was young. Either way, Jeremy lacks humanity and empathy.

He has no qualms about destroying anyone who stands in his path, and he certainly feels no remorse for his actions. In his mind, he believes the course of events that took place had to happen in that certain way, and there’s no force of nature that can convince him otherwise.

Due to his inflexible values, opinions, and actions, it’s hard to get a say with him.

It’s even harder to get him to see reason—not when he believes that his way is the most logical choice.

It’s more impossible to get him to let me go.

In the beginning, I thought his fixation with me was a phase that would dull with time. An obsession that would eventually purge its way out of his system.

After all, whether he’s a sociopath or a psychopath, Jeremy scores high on the antisocial spectrum, and his type has a fickle sense of relationships and an even shorter attention span.

To my horror, the exact opposite has happened.

Not only is he not growing bored of me, but he’s also extending the amount of time I spend in his company.

Now, he fucks me longer and won’t let me leave until the early hours of the morning, so I’ve started going back to the flat at near dawn.

He never asks me to stay the night, though. Never fucks me unclothed, and never steps in the shower with me.

That’s his way of creating distance between us and letting me know that I’m nothing more than his fuck toy. One he enjoys chasing and fucking, but never one to hold in his arms or show affection to.

He cooks for me, cleans me afterward, and even carries me in his arms to the cottage, but that’s the extent of his affection. Or the lack thereof.

At the start, I refused to admit that his treatment of me after sex is the reason for the bursts of emptiness I feel sometimes. I don’t even like Jeremy.

I don’t.

Not even if he buys me special editions of my favorite mangas, lets me talk about whatever subject I’m studying, and fixes me delicious dishes.

I certainly wouldn’t grow a soft spot for him because he makes each of my sexual fantasies come true. Or admit that he’s slowly allowing me to grow into that part of myself and accept it as a fragment of who I am.

While I enjoy the sexual part of things and how he pushes every button inside me, I’m well aware of who Jeremy Volkov actually is.

I know of his mafia legacy. While I’ve been dreaming of helping others as Mum does, he’s set to be a leader for blood-fests.

We don’t speak or think the same things. He’s too emotionless, and I’m too caring. He lacks empathy, while I feel it more than need be.

Jeremy and I are doomed for disaster, but don’t they say toxic relationships have the best sex? Though we’re not in a relationship.

I don’t even know what to call the thing we have.

It’s something, but I’m not sure what.

And because we’re not in a relationship, I shouldn’t have let Ava drag me to the fight club to watch him.

Or more like to watch the semi-finals. Between Jeremy and Landon.

I’ve been on edge ever since I heard those two would fight, but I never thought it would be so nerve-racking in person.

The buzzing crowd from our university and TKU don’t help. Noise, chatter, and bets made under the table mix in a symphony of chaos.

I’ve never liked these scenes, but Ava has a thing for watching men clash.

And I don’t have the heart to let Ava come on her own. Glyn loathes violence and never comes here if she can help it, not to mention she’s probably busy with her boyfriend, Killian.

As for Anni, well, she’s occupied with her own romance, too. Besides, she’s forbidden to set foot here under her tyrant brother’s orders.

I swear he enjoys ordering people around. Whenever I attempt to defy him, he turns up the crazy a notch to put me back where he thinks I belong.

Ava punches her open palm, craning her head in the direction of the fighting ring. We’re in the second row on the side, so we have an excellent view, all thanks to her ticket-purchasing talents.

“May Lan beat that arsehole to a pulp and free Anni of his dictatorial reign. Amen.”

I inch closer to her when some guy bumps into me. Ava shoos him away and takes my place, so I’m near the wall. My friend knows full well that I don’t like to be touched, especially suddenly or by strangers.

You don’t mind being fucked to within an inch of your life by Jeremy.

“I don’t hear your amen, Cecy.” Ava gasps. “Or do you want Jeremy to win?”

“What? Of course not.”

I don’t even know what I’m doing watching this match.

There’s been murky water between me and Lan ever since he abused my trust. I deleted the folder I have of his pictures and stopped having stupid feelings for him. As for Jeremy and me, we’re…fuck buddies who share the same kink but don’t have anything else in common.

No clue why that thought fills me with a sense of depression.

As if on cue, Landon strolls to the middle of the ring in a roar of cheers from REU students.

He’s wearing only blue satin shorts and wraps that cover his hands and wrists. The crowd goes nuts and starts cheering and screaming and chanting his name.

A wolfish grin lifts his lips as he flings his arms wide and throws his head back, looking to be in complete euphoria.

“King! King! King!”

Lan was made for showmanship and doesn’t miss a chance to flaunt his superior looks, defined physique, and genius skills.

While most art students are allergic to violence and even sports to protect their hands, Landon punches with the same hands that create masterpieces.

He’s been part of the underground fighting scene since we were in secondary school and didn’t quit at uni.

Not only that, but he’s also the leader of the Elites, and the number one student grades-wise in the whole of REU and TKU combined. He’s been getting some competition from a girl in the American university, but she’s yet to push him off from his first spot.

Lan always makes sure to come out on top, demanding to be worshipped like the god he thinks himself to be.

And while I ignored those narcissistic traits in the past, they make me uncomfortable now. Especially as I watch him bite his lip, enjoying every chant, every admiration.

It hits me then.

Lan never belonged to anyone but himself.

“Woohoo! Go, Lan! King! King! King!” Ava shouts at the top of her lungs and I shake my head.

She’s too enthusiastic about this.

The commotion from our students partially dies down when TKU’s crowd roars to life.

Jeremy strides to the ring accompanied by Nikolai and a blond man—the guard who told me about his state that day I went to the Heathens’ mansion.

I’ve been fucked continuously by Jeremy for the past two weeks and a few times before that, but this is the first time I’ve see him half naked.

Considering the way his muscles bulge through his shirts and leather jackets and whenever I’m flattened against him, I figured he had a developed physique, but nothing I could’ve imagined would rival the scene in front of me.

Jeremy is a big man with wide shoulders and an impressive build, even compared to others from his entourage. He has slick abs and a defined V-line that disappears beneath the black shorts that hang low on his hips.

I knew he was tatted by the small glimpse I saw on his arms, but now, I get the whole picture. Artistic skulls pierced with knives and guns stretch from his full sleeves to portions of his chest and abs, creating a striking, intimidating image. At the top of his chest, he has a cursive scrip tattoo that reads, Veni, Vidi, Vici.

I came. I saw. I conquered.

That’s what a mafia heir looks like. A beast in the making. An animal since he was born.

Even if his father wasn’t part of the Bratva, I have no doubt that Jeremy would’ve followed a similar path. He’s certainly not built to be an ordinary citizen.

With each of his powerful strides, the spectators go wild. He doesn’t have to flaunt himself or change his expression to capture everyone’s attention.

It happens naturally and effortlessly.

Like the way he trapped me.

I internally shake that idea out of my head.

Nikolai hits him on the shoulder and remains behind as Jeremy slides into the ring. His attention zeroes in on Lan, who’s smirking in his usual provocative way.

The moment the referee announces the beginning of the fight, there seems to be a collateral holding of breaths. Everyone has been looking forward to the clashing of two titans, the leaders of the Heathens and the Elites and the lifetime rivals at REU and TKU.

This is the fight for the championship. Maybe a final before the final.

Jeremy and Lan circle each other for a few seconds before Jeremy lunges at him. He lands the first punch successfully, causing an uproar of the crowd.

But he doesn’t even pull away when Lan drives his fist into the side of his face, so hard that blood explodes on Jeremy’s lips.

I gasp along with many others. Ava is jumping up and down and punching the air.

“Yes! That’s my boy. Get him, Lan!”

A whole-body shiver goes through me and I can’t even breathe properly as the same scenario happens again.

Every time one of them punches, the other jumps back up and delivers a stronger one.

The crowd alternates between holding their breath, gasping, and cheering so loudly that my eardrums nearly explode.

I’ve never seen a more brutal manifestation of violence and testosterone than right now.

It’s like they’re out to kill one another while everyone watches.

I was aware of the animosity that ran between them, but I didn’t think it was this savage.

Or out of control.

The more I watch, the tighter my stomach gets. I don’t think I can stay for the whole thing.

I’m sure Ava will be able to get home by herself—

My thoughts are cut off when Jeremy wipes the blood off the corner of his mouth and stares straight at me. As if he knew I was there all along.

How the hell did he find me in the middle of all these people?

My stomach flutters the more he watches me with that icy stare of his. Only, right now, fire erupts in their gray depths. No, it’s a wildfire that won’t be stopped unless it devours everything in its wake.

He’s looking at me as if I’m the first he’ll devour.

As if I’m the only one he sees in the crowd.

And that doesn’t make sense. Jeremy has never looked at me this way.

Or has he?

That night, the first night at the deck, after he took me inside and went down on me in the middle of my stupid sleep paralysis, I think he had this look before he attempted to choke me.

I gasp when Landon uses his small moment of distraction and pummels him to the ground.

He leans down to whisper something in his ear, then stands to his full height, opens his arms wide, and grins, showing bloodied teeth as our students chant.

“King! King! King!”

But their celebratory yells end in a collective “Ahhh” when Jeremy jumps up and punches Lan into a corner.

He drives his fists in his face over and over. The brutality is criminal level and keeps heightening with every passing second.

Our students go silent while TKU’s become insane. Their cheers grow with Jeremy’s craziness.

The referee jumps in to announce that he won by points, but instead of backing away, Jeremy punches Lan one more time.

And when he tries to stand up? Jeremy throws him back down again as if to prove a point.

I’m deaf to all the noise, to the students chattering, to Ava grumbling about losing the money she bet on Lan.

My gaze remains locked on Jeremy, who’s glaring at Landon as if he has a personal grudge against him.

Could he know about Landon’s involvement in the fire? Maybe about my involvement?

I’ve never stopped feeling guilty about that, not even after Jeremy threatened me and basically turned me into his sex toy.

His morals shouldn’t reflect mine, and I don’t want to hurt people. However, I’m not idiotic enough to tell him about it. That would only create trouble.

I was so sure Landon wouldn’t either, but he’s been clearly displeased by how I’ve been refusing to be his spy, so maybe he sold me out.

No.

He wouldn’t do that. At least, I hope not.

Either way, I don’t want to stay here. I manage to drag Ava with me. Considering her dejected state, she doesn’t mind too much and doesn’t call me a killjoy.

We eat some ice cream on the way to the dorm, and then I tell her I’m going to study.

She says she’ll practice her cello.

Usually, I wait for her to go to sleep so I can sneak out, but I’m restless tonight.

Fifteen minutes after the sound of her cello fills the space, I throw on my hoodie and slip out of the flat.

It feels like it takes me forever to reach the cottage. I open the gate with the wireless key Jeremy gave me soon after I became a regular visitor at his property.

The whole house is shrouded in darkness, but the gothic vibe doesn’t bother me tonight.

Something else does.

Out of instinct, I stop at the door of the cottage. Usually, this is when he’ll ambush me, then chase me all over the place.

However, when I push open the door, nothing happens.

Though I’m sure I saw his bike outside. Could he be taking a shower?

I go all over the cottage, but there’s no sign of him. However, I catch a glimpse of a mass of muscles through the kitchen window—that he fixed after I shattered it to pieces.

My steps are careful as I head in his direction. Jeremy sits on the deck, leaning back his palms on the wood as he stares at the gloomy lake that I’m sure is filled with water ghosts.

I stop right behind him, and I yelp, then shriek when he grabs me by the ankle and flings me forward.

But before I tumble into the water, he plops me on his lap so that I’m straddling it and wraps a large hand around my waist. He stares at me with dark eyes, so dark, they practically blend with the night.

However, another novel emotion I’ve never witnessed on his face lurks beneath the surface.

Something like…relief. Surprise?

“You came.” It’s a bewildered statement at best.

I let my palms flatten on his shoulders. “You told me to come every night, remember?”

His grip tightens around my waist. “You’re early.”

“Ava went to sleep early.” Liar.

“I see.” There’s something weird about his tone and expression tonight. It’s…softer. More human than beast.

And Jeremy is never soft, so this is throwing me off, but I also grab on to it, wanting, no, needing, to get inside his armor somehow. It’s not fair that he’s the only one who gets that privilege.

I touch the cut at the side of his lip, slowly, tentatively. “You should probably treat these.”

He releases an ambiguous sound but otherwise remains silent.

“Earlier.” I clear my throat. “How did you know I was there?”

“I know everything about you, Lisichka”

“But I don’t.”

“You don’t know everything about yourself?”

“I don’t know anything about you, Jeremy.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

His expression tightens, but he speaks calmly. “Why?”

“To make it fair.”

“I’m not a fair person.”

“I’m well aware.” I let my fingers linger on his hard jaw. “But I still want to find out.”

“Good luck. Trying is free, succeeding isn’t.”

“Very convenient.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you.”

“You’re welcome anyway.”

I release a breath and he smiles a little—as much of a smile as Jeremy can offer. And holy shit. Why does he appear tenfold more attractive when he does that? It’s not healthy for my skyrocketing heartbeat.

Little by little, my doubts vanish. Lan couldn’t have told him about my involvement in the fire.

There’s no way Jeremy would remain collected if that were the case. He would’ve drowned me in the lake by now.

I still don’t feel any form of relief.

“Are you disappointed?”

His question catches me completely off guard. “W-what?”

“That I won against your precious Landon and ruined his beautiful looks.”

“Not really. I mean, I would rather you guys didn’t fight, but there needed to be a winner. I’m sure Lan would’ve done the same if he’d been in your position.”

He pauses, observing me with strange intent. “Weren’t you rooting for him?”

“Ava was. She cursed you all night long for the money she lost.”

“How about you? Did you curse me?”

“No, and I wasn’t rooting for Lan.”

“Then were you rooting for me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That means it’s a possibility. I’ll believe that you were cheering me on.”

“Why is that important?”

He lifts a shoulder, but his arm tightens around my middle. “Beats me.”

We remain like that for a while. Seconds. Minutes. During that time, his gaze gets lost in the lake and I watch his face.

This is the first time he’s sort of hugged me outside of sex, and I want to extend the moment for as long as possible.

“I’m going to stay the night,” I announce out of nowhere.

No, actually, I’ve been thinking about it all week long, but I’ve had the courage to say it out loud now.

His gaze slides to me and I can’t help feeling a tinge of discomfort at the sight of the bruises and cuts on his face.

“Why?” he asks, his tone curious instead of accusatory.

“Because I want to.”

“Why would you want to?”

“I told you. Because I want to get to know you.”

“Spending the night won’t allow you to get to know me.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a start.”

And I will fight tooth and nail to get a say in whatever we have.