God of Malice: A Dark College Romance

24. Glyndon

“You’ll be late anyway, so how about we go back to my very logical idea of staying in bed all day?”

I stare at Killian from my position in the passenger seat of his car. “Are you kidding?”

He taps his finger on the steering wheel. “It’s strange how I rarely joke, but you choose to think that anyway. We need to work on your denial issues.”

I roll my eyes and stare out the window.

“Did you just roll your eyes?”

“And what about it? We need to work on that, too?”

“Yes. That’s an extremely juvenile gesture.”

“Wow. Look at you being all proper. The queen is searching for her etiquette instructor.”

“Doubt she needs one anymore.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“I know.” He offers me one of his rare smiles. “I also know you use it when you’re nervous. It’s useless to keep worrying about being late to class since you will be anyway.”

My lips part.

I’m well aware of his observational and emotion-reading skills, but I’m not ready to experience them over and over again.

“I’m not like you. I can’t help but worry, genius. Also, Professor Skies already thinks I’m mediocre. I don’t want to give him a reason to hate me more.”

He taps his index finger against the steering wheel again. “Is this the same professor who encourages your being bullied?”

“He doesn’t encourage the bullying…”

“But he doesn’t stop it either,” he finishes for me.

I don’t speak, and he obviously takes it as confirmation.

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the car, accentuated by the throbbing between my legs.

Earlier, I woke up with Killian’s very hard cock nestled between my thighs.

He definitely intended to thrust inside me. When I told him I was still sore and probably wouldn’t be able to move today, he said, “That’s one more reason to stay in bed all day.”

“Killian, no. I have classes. Not to mention, my friends must be worried sick about me.”

“Killjoy.”

“Does that mean you won’t fuck me?”

“Depends. Will you put my cock in your mouth and suck me off like a dirty little slut?”

I swear my pussy throbbed at the easy way he says crude things like that, but I still cleared my throat. “What will I get in return?”

“Me not fucking you.”

“No, I want something else.”

“Look at you learning how to negotiate. Let’s hear it. What do you want?”

“Let me think about it.”

“Do it while you’re on your knees, baby.”

I ended up blowing him until my jaw hurt, then he made me swallow every last bit of his cum while looking down on me with that dark, seemingly calm lust.

He thrust two fingers in my mouth and fucked my tongue with the rest of his cum. “That’s it. Swallow it all. Miss a drop and I might not be able to keep my promise about not fucking you.”

Then he brought me breakfast in bed. No kidding. He’s the one who fixed it, too, and he made me eat it all because, apparently, I’m shit at keeping up with my body’s needs.

And now that I’m thinking about all that, a pulsating throb starts in my core and refuses to go away.

Killian retrieves a cigarette and stuffs it between his lips, then fishes for his Zippo.

I crunch my nose, “Didn’t you say you’d quit if I kept your hands and lips occupied?”

I expect him to laugh it off, but he simply throws the cigarette out the window and opens his palm. “Hand.”

Swallowing, I place mine in his.

A small smirk curls his mouth. “Now lips.” When I hesitate, he glances at me. “You weren’t so shy when you first kissed me last night.”

“Ugh, shut up.” I peck him on the lips and I hate how much I enjoy it. I hate how much I like the feel of his lips, how they open and suck and nibble. I hate the realization that I’ve never really enjoyed kissing until now.

When I feel like I’m getting too into it, I push back and clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t you have classes, too?”

“I don’t have to attend them all, and I certainly don’t have to worry about a professor putting me on his shit list.”

“I bet they all think you’re an exemplary student.”

“I am an exemplary student. How do you think I got into med school?”

“By manipulating a poor soul or two?”

He chuckles, and he actually sounds amused and it’s easy on the ears. Not like his usual sadistic laughs that are a manifestation of his devil side. “I can’t manipulate my way into med school.”

“You can cheat.”

“Not really. It’ll eventually catch up to me. Besides, I skipped two years. God level is hard to achieve.”

“Your arrogance is staggering.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“My genius neurons and I choose to take it as one.”

I stop myself before I roll my eyes again and make him start an annoying lecture. “Is it really hard to be a genius?”

“It’s effortless, actually. I don’t have to think before acting. Everything comes naturally to me.”

“Then why did you say God level is hard to achieve?”

“People usually relate better to hardships and they certainly react well to smokescreens, half-truths, and well-crafted lies.”

“Not everyone.”

“That’s what you say now. Try being hit with a hard truth and see if you don’t wish you never knew about it.”

“I’d still seek the truth. Yes, it might hurt, but I’d find a way to come to terms with it. Being sad and struggling for a while is infinitely better than living a fake life.”

“Words. Words.”

“I mean every one of them.”

“Hmm.”

“What is ‘hmm’ supposed to mean?”

“Just hmm.”

“Wow, thanks for the clarification.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Were you born this annoying or did it come with time?”

“A little bit of both. Though my dad has annoying traits, so I might have the gene.”

“Why am I not surprised that you bad-mouth your father?”

“I’m not bad-mouthing him. I’m just relaying a fact.”

I stare at his unchanging expression. He doesn’t seem bothered by talking about his father, and it’s the first time he’s spoken openly about his parents.

“I gather you have a strained relationship with your father?”

“And how, pray tell, did you gather that?”

“Earlier, you said Gareth is Daddy’s golden boy, so that means you aren’t. You also said he has annoying traits. Oh, and you never posted a picture of just the two of you on your Instagram.”

“Stalker alert. Didn’t know you went through all my posts, baby.”

My cheeks burn. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“Your relationship with your father.”

“There’s no relationship to speak of. He never liked the idea of me or the fact that I exist.”

“Surely you read it wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with telling my mother that they should’ve stopped at my dear big bro—also spelled boring—because I’m defective.”

A body shiver goes through me. Though Killian’s tone remains the same, I can feel the change in his demeanor. The subject rubs him the wrong way, and I want to know more.

I want to sink my nails into the uncomfortable part of him and wrench it out because I know it’s probably the only real him I’d ever see.

Now, I’m beginning to think that Killian has Gareth on his shit list because of his father.

The more Gareth is favored by their dad, the more he targets him.

Not that it’s right, but it’s a defense mechanism.

Like the way Lan becomes more insufferable the more Mum babies Bran.

“You must’ve gotten the wrong idea. Most parents don’t hate their children.”

“Keyword being most. Now, drop it.”

“But—”

“I said. Drop. It.”

The dark undertone leaves no room for negotiation, but before I can think of a way to circle back to the subject, he asks in his nonchalant voice, “Back to the topic at hand. Do I have your admiration?”

“For what?”

“For being a first-class genius.”

My chest squeezes and I hate that I’m delighted that he wants my admiration.

I hate that it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

“More like, you tried to cunningly get admiration. Sorry to break it to you, but you need to try harder.”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Always up for a challenge.”

“Is that what I am to you? A challenge?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

I groan. “You know that’s not an answer. Are you doing it on purpose?”

He grins. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Ugh. You’re a bloody wanker.”

“Ah. Don’t. You know I get turned on by your foul mouth. Especially with that sexy little accent of yours.”

I purse my lips, then glare at him, which only widens his grin.

We arrive in front of the dorm and he parks, then stares at me. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nice and answer your question. You are a challenge, little rabbit. The worst of all, the most infuriating of all, but most importantly, the most entertaining of all.”

My stomach sinks and a horrible, ugly feeling claws up my throat. It takes me a moment to try and breathe normally.

To try and not be affected.

To try and not let his words hold weight.

But it’s useless. They’ve already grown roots and begun to ramify in chaotic patterns.

“Glad I could be your entertainment,” I bite out.

“Lose the long face and the sarcasm. And who’s the one who was preaching about always wanting the truth not two minutes ago? I could’ve lied to you, but I didn’t.”

When I remain silent, his voice darkens to an edge I’ve never heard before. “Do you want me to lie to you? Do you want me to wear a mask around you, pretend to be someone who’ll be accepted by your pretty little morals, is that it, Glyndon? Because I can be your fucking Prince Charming, knight in shining armor, and dream fucking fantasy all rolled into one while I fuck up your life.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” I open the car door and basically run inside.

He calls my name once, with an edge, but I ignore him, glad that the doorman won’t let him in without a pass.

My heart is beating faster with each step I take. It’s thumping, roaring, and pulsing in my ears in a creepy rhythm.

I have to lean against the wall for a beat to catch my breath.

Damn him.

And damn me for allowing him to have this type of effect on me.

Entertaining challenge.

Screw him.

I fish my phone out of my bra for the card I have there and pause at the number of notifications on the screen.

Ava:Where are u?

Cecily: Answer us.

Remi:Are you shagging? Yes or no. Or moan in a VM and we’ll take it as a yes and leave you alone.

Annika: What are the possible reasons Creighton left me on Read the last…five times I texted him? A, he hates my guts. B, he’s like that with everyone.

Annika: Please vote B. My pride is still bruised from when he said I talk too much. Do I talk too much?

Annika: I mean, I know I do, but not that much, right?

Annika:Where are you, Glyn? We’re worried.

Bran:Call me when you see this.

I swipe the card and pause when a text swipes on my screen.

Lan: Where the fuck are you?

I swallow.

While Bran and I talk and meet up almost every day, Lan and I don’t share the same relationship. It can only be bad news if he’s searching for me.

“There she is!”

I startle at the entryway when I’m surrounded by three girls in their PJs, definitely waiting to ambush me.

There goes my plan to sneak in, change my clothes, take my books, and leave.

Walk of shame it is.

“Hi,” I say with enough awkwardness to spur second-hand embarrassment.

“Don’t hi us.” Ava crowds my space, watching me with narrowed eyes. “You left us last night, and we barely slept, worried sick about you just to find out you were getting the D.”

I choke on my spit. “W-what?”

“Are you okay?” Cecily strokes my arm.

“I don’t know.” I honest to shit mean it.

“I wouldn’t know either with Kill. You could either be in for the roller coaster of your life or we’ll find you in a ditch somewhere. No in-between.” Annika gathers me in her arms. “Hugs. I’m here.”

“Don’t go consoling her.” Ava wrenches Annika from me. “She has a lot of explaining to do.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” I ask, seriously thinking I’m losing my mind.

“Check your Instagram,” Cecily says quietly, almost apologetically.

I give them one last wry look, then tap the Instagram app. The first picture that shows up on my feed was posted an hour ago, and has over a hundred thousand likes and tens of thousands of comments.

My fingers shake as I watch the stilled picture.

It’s when Killian kissed me against the stairs. His hand is around my throat, the other on my hip, and he’s basically eating me for dinner. His bare chest is glued to mine and the way he’s touching me is so possessive that it goes without saying what type of relationship we have.

An outsider would look at this and know that not only is Killian fucking me, but he’s also so dominant and possessive of me that no one would dare come close.

He cemented it by the caption.

Off. Limits.

“No, he didn’t,” I whisper.

“He so did and also, also! He tagged you. That’s how we saw it.” Annika taps on the screen to show my account’s name on the picture.

“Everyone could see this,” I’m practically talking to myself. “Like everyone, including…”

I jump up when my phone lights up with a text.

Lan:Let’s do it your way, little princess. Don’t show your face near the fucker or I’ll kill him.