God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods #4) by Rina Kent

“Working on it. Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll make sure everything falls into place.”

“What about what we discussed the other day…?”

Their voices become distant and unintelligible as they stay behind while Astrid gives me a mini house tour. Their mansion is a lot bigger than I imagined, with rustic, high Victorian ceilings and wide, tall windows that overlook a manicured garden.

They have three built-in studios. One for Astrid, the second for Lan and Bran, and the third for Glyn. All of them were carefully constructed by Levi as gifts to his wife and children.

Astrid takes me to Landon’s room and shows me all his awards from multiple activities. Football. Art shows. Spelling contests. Language competitions. The overachiever has done it all.

Astrid seems absolutely proud of his wins, as if they were her own.

She sits on the edge of his bed as I study the keepsakes from the endless activities he’s taken part in. He definitely wasn’t lying when he said he’s a genius and a fast learner.

“Lan did everything while growing up—the good, the bad, and the entirely screwed up,” she says with a sad smile. “He thinks we didn’t realize this, but his father and I always knew that he took part in countless events and activities to fill the emptiness that kept growing inside him. The bigger the hole got, the more intense his hobbies turned. Levi and I let him do whatever he pleased and gave him room to enroll in violent sports, not because we encouraged it, but because we were at a loss for what could benefit him. Therapy didn’t help. Restraining him had the opposite effect, and monitoring him made him vindictive. I guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you, Mia.”

I face her, hugging an art award to my chest. “I…didn’t do anything.”

“You gave him the balance he spent his entire life searching for, and that’s everything. You gave him what we couldn’t.”

“That’s not true. He knows you tried your best. That’s all that counts.”

She smiles, her expression soft and reminiscent. Now I get why Lan really cares for his mom and dad and didn’t want to worry them about his injury. They let him be himself when he needed it the most. They did it in the hopes that he’d get back on the right path one day, and I think he realizes how hard it was for them. More importantly, he knows the many troubles he caused them over the years.

“He’s also been showing me his most recent pieces and saying he found his muse,” she says. “I’m guessing that’s you.”

“I suppose. I wanted to ask you since you’re an artist yourself. Is there anything else I can do to help him?”

“Not really. Just be yourself. He’s finally finding his distinctive style and it’s euphoric to watch.”

“He hadn’t before?”

“No. I don’t deny that Lan was born a genius. He has the perfect technique and a unique imagination. I’ve always told him that he surpassed me in his teens, but he often showed me his work and I felt happy that he still sought my validation. But ever since he started being a professional, I could see his creative and technical superiority, but there was no soul. Lately, that’s fundamentally changed. Now, I’m sure he’ll soar to the sky with his talent. With your help, of course.”

“I don’t really do anything. I just sit there.” And sometimes suck him off just to mess with him.

“Don’t underestimate the role of a muse. Some say it’s inseparable from our souls.”

Why do I like the thought of being part of Lan’s soul? Probably because I’m as possessive as he is and want to engrave myself inside him as deep as he’s inside me.

Astrid stands. “Come on, let’s go down for dinner. Maybe I can dig out his baby albums afterward.”

I grin. “I would love that.”

When we get downstairs, we’re greeted by two new people, or more like, one new face.

I recognize the first one as Eli. I met him fleetingly in the Elites’ mansion and Landon always made it a point to separate me from him. For some reason, that made Eli more insistent about interacting with me, which, in turn, provoked Lan’s toxic, over-the-top possessive traits.

The man accompanying him is Aiden, who’s an older copy of Eli. Tall, imposing, and intimidating without even trying.

I don’t see him in that light, though. According to Lan, his Uncle Aiden has always been his number one fan, the enabler of his anarchy-driven mind, and the one who understands his antisocial behavior the best.

His dad does, too, now, but it took him some time to come to terms with the fact that Lan is and always will be different—mostly because he used to treat his siblings in an antisocial manner.

“And what are you doing here?” Lan glares at Eli.

“What’s with the cold welcome, dear cousin? I was terribly wounded in my nonexistent heart when you invited Dad for dinner and didn’t consider including me.” Eli wraps an arm around his father’s shoulder. “We come as a set.”

“Did he force his way to come with you, Uncle?”

“Pretty much,” Aiden says with a poker face. “He said, and I quote, ‘Of course my presence is welcome. Who wouldn’t enjoy my godly company and stimulating conversationalist eloquence?’”

“Me, for one.” Lan grins. “I can think of someone else who wouldn’t either. Maybe I should text that someone so they can judge your stimulating conversationalist eloquence.”