The Bad God Wins Read online Loki Renard (Possessive Gods #2)

Categories Genre: Fantasy, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Possessive Gods Series by Loki Renard

Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)

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The Bad God Wins (Possessive Gods #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Loki Renard

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The old gods made me their enemy. So I’m going to take what they love most. Their half-goddess princess.

She’s eighteen. Beautiful. Brilliant. And she’s mine.
Books in Series:

Possessive Gods Series by Loki Renard

Books by Author:

Loki Renard



There is something about innocence which just begs to be corrupted.

I’m not usually given to philosophical musings while on a mission of long awaited revenge, but the sight of my prey makes me stop and think and enjoy. I take a sip from my golden chalice and lean against a pillar as I stand among the swirling crowd and watch the pretty little princess make her way through the revelers. She thinks nobody is watching. She’s wrong. The other gods may be drunk on power and lust, awaiting the arrival of the golden girl heralded as the jewel of Okeanus, but I can’t take my eyes off the dark haired beauty. She goes out of her way not to be noticed, moving behind people, avoiding eye contact with them. She doesn’t want to be seen. But I see her. I see every bit of her.

She is a stunning study in shadows. I let my eye linger over her curvaceous form. She’s tried to hide it in the dark gown she has chosen, but that only makes her generous swelling all the more enticing. I want to tear that dress from her. I want her spread bare for me. But I must be patient. Even a house cat knows that there is a time to pounce, and a time to wait.

I happen to cast a glance into a reflective ice sculpture nearby. I am not quite myself this evening. They would never have let me in if I was. I smile and my image shimmers. Usually I have dark eyes and a suave smile, the appearance of a young, fit man. Tonight I am hiding in plain sight as a horned beast with cloven hooves and a pointed tail. They’d let the devil in before they allowed me to pass over their threshold. Of course, it doesn’t really matter what I look like to them. It only matters what I look like to her. To her, I will be every bit of myself. It is the only way to claim true vengeance.

They tried to keep me out with their walls and their single guardian. They have learned nothing from the human traditions they now seek to embrace. For thousands of years, storybook kings and queens have been scorning witches and various supernatural beings at birthday parties. The monarchs always think that you can keep ill will out simply by excluding it. They are always wrong, and yet they never learn.

I am no irritable fairy godmother, or vexed local witch. I am something much, much worse. I am a very bad god, and I have come with revenge in my heart. I have come with righteous anger. I have come to take what is theirs — and make it mine.

Just a few minutes earlier…


Swirling crowds, music, and merriment fill the halls of my home. None of them were here yesterday and none of them will be here tomorrow. I do not open my home to other gods, not without great cause, but tonight the combined demands of both my cherished daughters and their rather insistent mother have led to a ball in honor of their shared eighteenth birthdays.

I find myself smiling as I watch over the congregated gods in their finery. This is more than a mere birthday party. This is the first gathering of almost every single god on Okeanus in more than a hundred years. They have come to pay their respects, and no doubt, to marvel at the majesty of my palace. There are many fine works of art on display, but none so beautiful as my human lover, and our demigoddess daughters who turn eighteen this very night.

For many years we have watched them grow, loved them, and protected them viciously. Now we parents are spread throughout this gathering according to our character.

I am at the top of the staircase, looking out over the party from on high. Keeping a high vantage point is a habit I’ve developed over the years. It is where I am most comfortable, where I can see what is happening in the thick of the action.

Ragnar stands as sentinel at the gates. He shows no sign of excitement on his rough face. Not a single flicker of a smile dares break across his stony expression though I know he is as proud of our girls as we all are.

From my perch, I can hear our daughters bickering in their room. They have been arguing from the moment they learned to talk, before, if you believe their mother’s interpretation of their behavior. I had hoped they would grow out of it by now, but it may take more than merely turning eighteen to make them mature.

Their mother, Rael, the love of my eternal life, comes sweeping up the stairs. I can hardly believe it has been eighteen years since she gave birth to our babies. She is as fresh and radiant as ever, her bright mane of red hair marks her in any crowd as my queen.