Home > God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)

God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)
Author: Rina Kent





Hello reader friend,


If you haven’t read my books before, you might not know this, but I write darker stories that can be upsetting and disturbing. My books and main characters aren't for the faint of heart.


This book contains a talk of child abuse and suicidal thoughts. I trust you know your triggers before you proceed.


God of Pain is a complete STANDALONE.


For more things Rina Kent, visit www.rinakent.com









I made a terrible mistake.

Being a mafia princess, I knew my fate was already decided.

But I went ahead and longed for the wrong one.

Creighton King is bad news with a gorgeous exterior.

He’s silent, brooding, and obviously emotionally unavailable.

So I thought it’s over.

Until he awakens a beast inside me.

My name is Annika Volkov and I’m Creighton's worst enemy.

He won’t stop until he breaks me.

Or I break him.






The Death of Peace of Mind – Bad Omens

Karma Police – Radiohead

Therapy – VOILA

Drinking with Cupid – VOILA

Bad Habits – Ed Sheeran & Bring Me The Horizon

A Way to Restart – Colours in the Street

In Circles – Holding Absence

Same Team – Alice Merton

All the King’s Men – The Rigs

Empty – Letdown

Half the World – Arcane Roots

Beyond Today – James Gilespie



You can find the complete playlist on Spotify.









There’s someone out there.

Or someones.

The sound of their harsh breathing slips from outside the room, going up and up in staccato, resembling a trapped injured animal.

A feral animal.

My eyes fly open and I stumble out of bed, smoothing my hair so it falls to my lower back. Then I tug down on my purple sleep shirt that barely covers my ass.

Shadows linger in the corner, twisting and groaning like starved beasts. The only light comes from the balcony bulb that I always leave on. I don’t reach out to the lamp’s switch or even attempt to touch it.

Something tells me that if I shed light on whatever animal is lurking out there, the situation will diverge in an ugly direction.

My steps are inaudible, which comes naturally to me. But the remaining calm part doesn’t.

It’s impossible to control the tremors that slash through my limbs or the sweat that trickles down my back, making my shirt stick to my overheated skin.

This isn’t right.

My brother’s mansion should be the safest place on campus and the second safest on earth after our home back in New York.

It’s why he insists I spend certain nights here. I don’t meddle in his business, but I know what those nights entail—mayhem, chaos, the butchering of poor souls.

So the best place to keep me protected is right under his wing with a dozen guards watching me.

You know that ivory tower Rapunzel stayed in? My room in the Heathens’ compound—my brother's anarchy-infested club—is the personification of that.

Hell, there are even guards beneath the balcony, so even if I actually attempted to climb down the tree, they’d be the ones to catch me. They’d scowl, grunt, and report my actions to both my brother and my father.


On the bright side, however, I’m protected. I’ve been protected since the day I was born into the Volkov family.

And I am a Volkov.

I nearly laugh at the shiver of fear that refuses to be purged from my system. I don’t know about anywhere else, but I’m safe here.

Okay, whatever is lurking out there, you better be some injured bird or something trivial. Otherwise, be ready to die.

The balcony curtains flap inside, the white material soaked in the color of the night and the dim light.

I pause once I’m a few steps away. Did I open the balcony door last night?

No. No, I didn’t.

The logical approach would be to turn around and run to the door, call for my brother or any of his men, and hide in my gilded cage.

But here’s the thing.

My toxic trait is curiosity, like I really can’t sleep at night if I don’t satisfy that thirst for knowledge.

The spacious room with its fluffy pillows, purple sheets, glittery wallpaper, and everything glam and pretty slowly fades to the background.

The soft light from the balcony is my only compass as I take a step forward.

Fate works in mysterious ways.

Ever since I was little, I’ve known that I wouldn’t always be a sheltered little princess fighting for her family’s approval. That one day, something would come for me when I least expect it. I just didn’t know what it would be or what it would entail.

I sure as hell didn’t think it’d start in my brother’s mega-secured, guard-filled mansion.

The moment I reach a hand to the half-open glass door, a dark figure slowly slides inside.

I jump back, slapping a hand to my chest.

If I hadn’t seen the slick movement through my balcony sliding door, I would’ve thought this person—a man, judging by his build—was cut from the night.

He’s in all black. Sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, shoes, gloves, and a half-smiling, half-crying mask.

A shiver snakes beneath my flesh as I stare at the details of the mask. The crying half is black and the smiling part is white. The mixture of both is creepily haunting.

All of him is.

The bleak color of his clothes doesn’t conceal the bulging of his muscles beneath the shirt or reduce the sheer power of his quiet presence. He’s someone who works out, his chest filled with planes of muscles and a defined abdomen, but he’s not bulky.

Just muscular enough to exude power by merely standing there.

He’s also tall. So tall that I have to crane my head to take in the entirety of him.

Well, I’m a bit on the short, petite side. But still. I don’t usually have to go to such an extent to look at people.

We stare at each other for a beat, like two animals before they go at each other’s throats.

The two holes in the creepy mask serve as his eyes, which are dark, but not black or brown, more like the darkness of the ocean.

And I latch onto that color, to that disruption of the black aura. It’s also my toxic trait to see the good in people, to not let the world harden me until I can no longer empathize with anyone.

It’s a promise I made to myself when I figured out what type of world I was born into.

My limbs continue trembling, the rhythm matching my skyrocketing heartbeat.

Still, I force my super cheerful, super casual tone. “You might want to leave before the guards find you—”

The words die in my throat when he advances toward me.

One imposing step at a time.

So, remember the fact that his presence has power? I’m witnessing the effects of it firsthand.

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