Page 5 of God of War (Legacy of Gods)

If I’m drunk enough, I might forget a little.

Escape a little.

Live a little.

In no time, I’m surrounded by a group of people. Some are friends or classmates from the art school. Others are new faces.

The more the merrier, if you ask me.

We’re on holiday from uni and it’s our last year. Cecy already graduated, and it’s no fun without her at Royal Elite University. If I weren’t positively terrified about living in my parents’ house again and letting them see me in raw, painful detail, I would’ve transferred to a London university.

But oh well.

Thankfully for me, I didn’t come here to think.

I slide my fingers into my long blonde hair, lifting the strands to reveal my bare back as I sway sensually to the music.

Warm hands drop to the exposed skin on my sides and I playfully shove them away.

“You can look, but you can’t touch, Ollie,” I coo over the music.

Not sure if he heard and I don’t think he cares, to be honest, because he continues staring at my hint of cleavage, blatantly eye-fucking my long legs, bare shoulders, and anywhere his greedy eyes can reach.

Perfect dress, in my humble opinion.

The string tied around my neck keeps it in place along with the tiny micro-miniskirt. Snake-like straps spring up from my stilettos and hug my legs in stunning glittery pink.

“You owe me for earlier, love,” Oliver says as he dances in beat with me, mirroring my every move, every bat of my lashes.

“Oh?” I play coy. “How much?”

“I’m expensive.”

“Not more expensive than my trust fund, Ollie.” I stroke my fingers beneath his chin, tracing his skin with my chrome-pink nails as his nostrils flare. “Besides, we both know you’re not thinking about money as a currency.”

“Did I think right?”

“Possibly?”

Oliver is classically handsome—square face, light-hazel eyes, and sandy-blond hair. Pretty sure I dry humped him a couple of nights ago when he dropped me off.

He wasn’t happy with how I left him unsatisfied, but he keeps coming back for more, so maybe if I’m in the mood, I’ll go further.

Ollie groans as I move my hips. “You’re killing me, Ava.”

“I know.” I laugh, the sound eaten by the loud music before it dies on a hitch.

A stare.

No. A glare.

Cold, calculative, and entirely destructive eyes hold me hostage.

Like a million times before.

And like all of those times, my apprehension hasn’t reduced one bit. If anything, my awareness has gotten a lot more daring. Suffocating.

It’s impossible to figure out where he’s watching me from if he doesn’t make himself entirely visible. However, whether I see him or not, I’m extremely conscious of his presence.

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