Page 32 of God of War (Legacy of Gods)

Still looking at his phone, Eli reaches into his jacket and retrieves a huge pink diamond ring that sparkles like a thousand lights.

It’s the ring I saw in the countless pictures Cecily showed me. Turns out, I also have a folder with 3,523 pictures of the marriage. The title isMy Wedding ft Tin Man.

Which I buy, to be honest. I see myself naming it that. Other options would beMy Wedding and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named as a ProporI Got Married. He’s Only Here for the Pictures.

Eli holds the ring in midair, waiting for me to take it. Still not looking at me.

I jam the bottle of kombucha in the cupholder, my temper flaring as fast as the fizz that’s spilling over. “If you are actually my husband, then look at me when you give me my fucking wedding ring.”

He lifts his head, a flash of anger appearing in his stormy eyes. Under different circumstances, I’d probably run or cower.

Hell, under different circumstances, I’d never allow myself in a closed space with Eli. That’s just asking for trouble.

Right now, however, I don’t see a way out.

Instead of focusing on the confusion and the loss I feel without my memories, I direct that energy at him.

“Watch your mouth.” He speaks in a deep, firm tone.

He has a way of moderating his words to intimidate his adversary. And while I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t affected, I’m more pissed off than anything.

“Should’ve thought about that before you married me.”

“A decision I question every day.”

“As do I, for sure.”

“For sure,” he repeats with a hint of dark amusement. “Except for the small fact that you’ve been infatuated with me for years and then proceeded to beg me to marry you.”

I can feel my cheeks warming and probably turning bright pink, and for the first time, I’m not a fan of my favorite color.

“Me?Begyou? You must be out of your mind.”

“Out of my mind for tolerating your presence? Yes.”

“I didnotbeg you to marry me.”

“Does that mean you remember the proposal night?”

“Just because I don’t remember it doesn’t mean you can spout nonsense. Why on earth would I beg the person I hate the most to marry me? I’m neither desperate nor suicidal.”

A hint of something unfathomable passes in his eyes as quick as lightning, and then they’re back to their status quo—aka an unreadable gray cloud. “And yet you ended up marrying the person you hate the most. The irony.”

“The horror.”

“The reality, Mrs. King.”

“Stopcalling me that.”

“But you are. We have the wedding certificate and the ceremony to prove it.” He grabs my hand and slides the ring on my finger roughly, with no patience or softness whatsoever.

But then again, there isn’t a gentle bone in the devil’s body.

I stare at the ring, and for some reason, it seems familiar. Comforting.

What kind of disturbed thought is that?

Choosing to steer clear of that territory, I cross my arms. “Well, there’s something that can undo it. It’s called a divorce, and I want one.”

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