God of Malice: A Dark College Romance

7. Glyndon

“Tell me why we’re here again?” I wince at the loud sound of rap music, chattering, and people.

So many people.

“Because we stan violence, duh.” Ava cheers while swaying to the music.

“You know, this unorthodox fascination with male violence could be a manifestation of unpleasant tendencies.” Cecily slides her glasses over her nose. “It’s kind of toxic.”

“Call me queen of toxicity then, because I get to stare at this divine beauty.” Ava nudges Annika. “Isn’t that right, Anni?”

She fidgets, watching the crowd surrounding us as if they’re aliens out to kidnap and enslave us. Like Cecily and me, she wasn’t keen on coming to the fighting ring, but democracy doesn’t win with Ava.

Besides, despite Ces’s psychological profiling just now, she wasn’t vehemently against it when the idea first popped up.

It’s good to get some air and change the scenery, is what she told me before the three of them dragged me to this underground fighting ring downtown.

And surprise, most of the fighting happens between our university and The King’s U.

It goes without saying that we’re rivals in every way. Each university encourages its students to take part in clubs, sports, and contests just so they can beat the other university.

Aside from the official sports such as football, basketball, and lacrosse, there’s this ongoing tradition of a neutral ground fight club where a championship is held.

It’s basically a gambling den about who gets to win in fistfights. Rumor has it, the chancellors know it’s going on and not only turn a blind eye, but they even bet on the championship.

The club is packed as hell, despite the fact that tonight is a normal fighting day where people get matched up randomly. On championship nights, both campuses pour into here like ants.

We’re currently waiting for the highlight of the evening—a match between two of the strongest fighters from our unis. The fighter from our side is Creigh, who’s having his shoulders massaged by Remi on the pedestal above.

While Remi is the captain of the basketball team and Bran is the captain of the Lacrosse team, they never fight.

When we asked Remi why he doesn’t, he snorted and laughed and mocked us. “Preposterous! Me? A fight? As in, putting my lordship’s nose in jeopardy? You’re out of your mind, you’re out of your mind, and everyone is out of their fucking mind!”

The hypocrite is totally fine with thrusting that preposterous act onto Creigh, though.

I really wish my cousin didn’t have such a strong inclination to violence. He could’ve been a silent nerd, but he chose to be a silent brute.

While I’m still watching Remi and Creigh, two tall guys stroll to their sides. The first is none other than my brother, Landon, dressed in shorts and a jersey—probably ready to fight.

Everyone in the School of Arts Music avoids any manifestation of violence, and some even ditch sports altogether, to protect our hands.

But not my deranged brother.

He loves to draw blood with the same hands that sculpt masterpieces.

Life can be unfair like that by choosing to bestow boundless talent to undeserving people.

I love my brother, sometimes, but he’s not a decent human being.

Not even close.

The one accompanying him, however, is a surprise. My oldest cousin, Eli, Creigh’s brother, matches Lan’s nonchalant aura like a king waltzing to his throne.

Eli keeps a profile so low that my attempts seem amateurish in comparison. Even though he’s studying for his PhD at REU, we barely see him.

If ever.

No one even knows where he is at all times. So when Grandpa asks about how his eldest grandchild is doing, I give the most generic answer because my knowledge about Eli’s state is no different from his.

So to see him here tonight is as rare as a unicorn.

I nudge Ava, but in reality, I don’t need to.

My friend is already staring in his direction—or more like glaring. I’ve known Ava since we were in nappies, and nothing is able to completely wipe her good mood like Eli’s presence.

“And what is he doing here?” she grits out.

“Showing his support to Creigh?” I try, always playing the middle ground between my otherworldly side of the family and my friends.

“Support, my arse. If he and that word met on the top of a volcano, it’d free fall to lava. He’s just here to ruin everyone’s evening.”

“Only if you let him,” Cecily touches her arm. She’s the best pacifist ever, I swear. I wish I had Ces’s way of making everything seem okay.

“Right.” Ava releases a breath. “Besides, Lan is here, too, and Glyn is fine with it.”

“I’m not scared of him.” Lie. But they don’t need to know that.

Also, I’ve come to learn the hard way that there are worse things than my brother. At least he wasn’t actively trying to destroy me.

“That’s the spirit, bitch.” Ava bumps her shoulder with mine. “Fuck the boys.”

“Very classy.” Cecily rolls her eyes. “You’re supposed to be the granddaughter of the former prime minister.”

“Don’t be a prude. And Grandpa encourages my need to express myself, thank you very much.”

“Umm.” Annika shifts from foot to foot. “We should probably go before the start of the fight.”

“What? No, we’re here for the fight and to cheer on Creigh. We can’t just leave.” Ava cups her mouth and screams, “You’ve got this, Cray Cray!”

He merely stares in our direction while Remi waves and shows off Creighton’s muscles.

Landon is focused on his phone, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Eli, who was drinking from a bottle of water, pauses and tilts his head in our direction.

Or more like in Ava’s.

No words are spoken, but it’s like they’re having a silent war. Ava and Eli always had the weirdest relationship that I can’t put a name to.

One thing’s for certain, though. It’s always been filled with some sort of tension.

She tries to maintain eye contact, but despite the fact that she’s the strongest, most outspoken person I know, she’s no match for Eli’s hurricane-like energy. She huffs, flips her hair, and switches her attention to our new friend. “As I was saying, dear Anni, we’re here to stay.”

“Jer will have my neck if he sees me here.”

“You’re a big girl,” Cecily says. “He doesn’t tell you what to do.”

“That’s right.” Ava holds her in a half-hug and they look like princesses with Ava’s lace pink dress and Annika’s purple tulle skirt. “We’ve got you, girl.”

“You…you’re right.” She digs her heels in the ground and smiles. “Jer can’t do anything to me.”

“Sure about that, Anoushka?”

Annika and I freeze for two different reasons. She, because that voice that spoke from behind us is definitely her brother’s.

The notorious Jeremy Volkov, who’s rumored to be a killer in the making.

Me?

An amber-woodsy scent takes me hostage, and I want to think it’s a play of my imagination, as was the case for the last week.

Ever since he cornered me near the library a week ago, I’ve been looking over my shoulder, checking my locks, and searching my surroundings.

He’s put me in a hyperaware mode against my own will, and I’ve tried to conquer it by painting, jogging, and letting Ava take me anywhere she wants.

None of that has worked.

And I’m starting to think it was a psychological trick. He specifically told me he’s coming back just to keep me on the edge, so even if he’s not physically tormenting me, the mental impact does the job.

Every time I’ve tried to push him out of my head, he barges into my subconscious with the persistent lethality of poison.

Which is why I hope now is one of those moments where I’m being paranoid for no reason. That I just need to take a pill and go to sleep.

But when I turn around, my eyes clash with those monstrous ones. He’s standing beside a man who’s about his height, has thick dark brows, and is wearing a closed-off expression, as if he’s offended with the world itself.

It must be Jeremy.

Despite his infamous reputation of maiming people for sport, it’s not him that I can’t stop staring at.

It’s the arsehole by his side in his black shirt and black trousers and trainers. He’s dressed so casually but still reeks of corruption, like a power-hungry politician or a bloodthirsty warlord.

He still looks tenfold worse than his charming appearance.

Or maybe it’s because, unlike all the people present, I’m well aware of what this devil is capable of.

I automatically take a step back and his lips tilt in a small smirk.

That’s the thing.

The freaking psycho enjoys driving me to the edge.

Hell, he gets off on it.

“Oh, hi, Jer,” Annika stumbles over her words. “I didn’t really mean to come here. I was just taking a tour with my new friends.”

“Taking a tour in a place you’re not supposed to be?” Jeremy speaks with effortless power, accentuated by a raised brow.

“I was just—”

“Leaving,” he finishes for her. “Now.”

“Hey.” Cecily steps in front of her. “She can decide whether to leave or stay on her own because oh, I think we’re at an age where women don’t get told what to do.”

Jeremy stares down at her blankly, as if he’s contemplating whether or not he should crush her with a hand or two.

I love Cecily’s bravery—I do—but some people are just not worth risking your life to oppose. Jeremy is at the top of that list.

Annika seems to know that, too, because she subtly pushes Cecily away. “It’s okay. I’ll go back.”

My friend, who obviously has multiple death wishes, shoos her with a hand. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to, really.” Annika shakes her head and whispers, “It’s not worth it.”

“Walk in front of me, Anoushka.”

Annika bows her head and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Then she follows her brother’s command. They’re not two steps away before Cecily fumes, “That bloody misogynistic pig is simply not going to dictate Anni’s life.”

And then my crazy friend follows them.

“I swear to fuck, she’s suicidal,” Ava whispers, then yells, “Wait for me, Ces!”

No, no…

I don’t spare a glance at who I’m left with and attempt to follow after them—girls standing up for girls and all that. Truth is, I’d rather face Jeremy than his psychotic friend.

My head crashes into a wall of muscles and I step backward in shock.

A hand wraps around my elbow, seemingly gentle yet anything but. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I try to pull my elbow free, but he only tightens his hold as a warning.

My gaze strays sideways, hoping to catch the attention of someone familiar, but all the faces have turned blurry, featureless, even.

“It’s useless to find refuge in anyone but me, baby.”

“Screw you. I’m not your baby.”

His free hand reaches out for me and I freeze, thinking he’ll choke me again.

Images of him sneaking into my nightmare, strangling me, then doing unspeakable things to me come crashing down. I don’t want to think about my state when I woke up or where my hand was.

It’s like the time I stroked my neck as I stared at that damn painting I somehow couldn’t vandalize.

However, his fingers seep into my hair gently, lovingly. “Did I mention that your fight is adorable? The way your beautiful eyes war with both fear and determination is a turn-on. I wonder if this is the look I’ll see when you’re writhing underneath me as I stuff your cunt with my cock.”

My lips tremble. I’m still not used to the way he speaks so dirty so casually, but I say, “The only thing you’ll see is your blood as I stab you to death.”

“I don’t mind. Red happens to be my favorite color.” He tips his chin at the red patterns on my shirt. “Your style is cute.”

I don’t want to be cute to this bastard. I don’t want to be anything to him, because his attention?

It’s suffocating.

The only thing I breathe, see, or feel is him. The intoxicating scent, the intimidating physique, and the haunting presence.

“I’ve been thinking,” he muses, still stroking his fingers in my hair with no warmth whatsoever. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’ve been thinking about?”

“Not interested.”

“See, that’s where you do things wrong, Glyndon. If you continue antagonizing me for sport, you’ll only get yourself cut.” His tone holds no threat, not an obvious one, anyway. “As I was saying, I’ve been thinking about the best way to have your lips around my cock again. Are you game?”

“To bite your dick off for real this time? Sure.”

He chuckles, the sound soft, but his touch in my hair is anything but. “Careful. I’m allowing you to push, but don’t mistake my tolerance for acceptance. I’m not a generous man.”

“Shocker.”

“Your stubbornness can be grating, but we’ll smooth it out.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go out with me for a ride.”

I stare at him, eyes big, waiting for him to laugh.

He doesn’t.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I seem like the joking type?”

“No, but you must be the delusional type if you think I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“Willingly.”

“What?”

“You won’t go anywhere with me willingly. But I can find ways to drag you out of here and no one will see you.”

“My brother and cousins are up there,” I hiss, searching for them with my gaze.

Come on, Lan, even your craziness is welcome right now.

“They won’t see either,” he says casually. “If I choose to, no one will hear of you again and you’ll be a measly statistic.”

A shudder slashes down my spine because I know, I just know this is no joking matter to him and that if he chooses to, he could and would definitely keep his word.

“Stop it,” I whisper.

“I might consider that when you do what I asked for earlier and go on a ride with me.”

“So you have the green light to do as you threatened? If you actually kidnap me, no one will be the wiser since I went with you on my own feet.”

“That’s true, but I promise to return you safely.”

“Excuse me for not believing you.”

“Hmm.” He strokes the lobe of my ear, back and forth like an eerie lullaby. “What would make you believe me?”

“Nothing.” I breathe harshly, partly because of being in his presence and the fact that he won’t stop freaking touching me. I don’t react well to my sensory world and it shows. “I don’t trust you and never will.”

“As I said, never say never.” His eyes hold mine hostage for a second, two, and I swear I’m going to catch fire by the third. “How about I prove that I keep my word?”

“How the hell would you do that?”

“I’ll win this upcoming match for you.”

“Oh, so you’ll beat up Creigh—who happens to be my cousin—to prove a point. What a classic you move.”

“I’ll lose it then,” he says without blinking. “I’ll get beaten up to prove a point.”

My lips fall open, but I quickly recuperate. “I don’t want that.”

“That’s what you’ll get.” He brushes my hair again. “And you’ll watch every moment of it, baby. If you dare leave, I’ll send that cousin of yours into a coma.”

“You…wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Why the hell are you doing all of this? Are you…insane?”

“Maybe. After all, insanity, evil, and ruthlessness are boundless and lawless. I’d rather be insane than an ordinary fool.” He leans over and my heart stops beating for a fraction of a second as he kisses the top of my head slowly, gently. “Wait for me, baby.”

And then his touch is gone, and so are the remnants of my fragile sanity.

I can only watch as he rushes through the crowd and heads to the middle of the ring.