Page 73 of Vengeful Gods

Delete.

I trust you have received the food deliveries I arranged while we were gone.

Fuck. Delete. Delete. Delete.

I will be seeing you at the upcoming event. Ky is currently on his way back to the compound.

Jesus Christ.

“Fuck this,” I mutter out loud. Jabbing furiously at the arrow that will erase all evidence of whatever the fuck it is I’m trying to say.

Blowing out a long breath, I swipe out of my texts and resume thumbing through the full article sent by Hawke. That’s when another message arrives, only this time it’s from Ky and has been sent to our group chat.

He and Ven left earlier this evening. I knew Ven would disappear into the forest, but Ky…there’s no need to guess where, and who, he headed straight for.

What he’s sent is a video attachment. The thumbnail is too blurry and dark in the tiny image on-screen to make out what it might be. But I already know.

Ven hasn’t read the message. I doubt he’ll turn his phone on for another day or two.

My free hand scrubs over my mouth and my thumb hovers over the video. This is the part I wanted to avoid, like the fucking plague. The whole reason I threatened him not to touch her, because now he has, it’s like opening a can of putrid worms.

She’s gotten under his skin without even trying.

It won’t take long before the infection spreads, my immune system is already hard at work fighting it, but the pull and desire and dizzying kind of need to own this girl in every way imaginable is already there. It’s sitting right behind my rib cage like a stuck knife. One that digs in deeper every time I try to fucking draw breath.

Standing here in the deep shadows of a drafty shed, hours away from the compound, I’m at war with myself over a goddamn video clip. The screen dims, and I quickly tap elsewhere on the surface to illuminate it again. An eerie blue glow is the only light to see by.

After the hell that the past few days have been, my resolve shatters. I click play.

What I see on screen is a lot of Ky’s naked chest.

A pan down follows, showing me a wet, tangled heap of pale purple curls.

Delicate, red-painted fingernails rest lightly over the toned muscles of his stomach.

I work down a heavy swallow as the silent clip shows off a grainy, dark video of a naked Foxglove Noire curled up asleep in his arms. There’s not much to see because Ky’s bicep is in the way, but I can see enough. As he continues to film, it shows the spot where his other hand cups her bare pussy.

Clenching my jaw, the brutal grip I’ve got on my phone tightens even further.

And Ky cements himself as the most infuriating asshole and brat I’ve ever had to deal with when he swipes two fingers through her slit. The video only shows a blurry, dark outline of the spot between her thighs, but it’s there, and I know it’s there all the same. He then brings those fingers close to the camera and the glow illuminates a sheen of wetness coating them—god-fucking-damnit, it could be her cum or his or both of theirs—before the camera jostles a little and all I can see is the lower half of Ky’s face now filling the screen.

His short beard comes into focus, the corner of his lips tip up in a taunting smirk, and he sucks down on his fingers.

My stomach clenches at the sight.

The video plays on a loop and I don’t make any attempt to try and stop it.

I’m trapped, unable to do anything but devour the way their bodies look twisted together in the dim lighting, and the thought rushes into my mind before I can stop it.

They’d both look even better in my bed.

The moment my thumb taps on the save video button, his next text comes through.

Daddy’s missing out on the sweetest pussy he’ll ever taste.

31

Her scent is the first thing that accosts me when I enter the compound.

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