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

Nothing.

“Let’s take a break. Do you have anything to drink?” I ask, but his mind seems to be busy focusing on his fingers and the unmoving object in front of him.

“I’m going to rest for a while.” I start to sit down, but he stands up abruptly, making me stop dead in my tracks.

He’s looking at me now, but I wish he wasn’t. His dark blues are no different than a stormy ocean that’s about to swallow me in its depths. “I said don’t ruin it, didn’t I?”

“You’re not the one standing. It’s tiring and boring,” I sign with less bravado than usual.

“Come here.”

“Why?” I sign cautiously.

“You said you’re tired, so we’ll fix it.”

I remain rooted in place. I’d rather stay standing for another hour than get close to him.

“Don’t make me come get you, Mia.”

It’s the first time he’s said my name, and it sounds like a deep growl.

Slowly, I make my way to him, assuring myself I’ll claw his eyes out if he hurts me. I can also break his dick for humanity’s sake.

Once I’m next to the statue, Landon pulls me toward him so suddenly, I gasp.

The sound echoes around us as he pulls me down so I’m straddling with my back to his chest. I squirm when I feel the hard muscle beneath me. I’ve never made a habit of being this close to the opposite sex.

My previous encounters left something to be desired and the unshakable feeling that they were boys.

Landon, however, is all man. It’s not about the age, it’s the edge with which he carries himself. It’s the unapologetic way he touches me as if it’s his birthright.

“Don’t move,” he whispers in my ear, drawing goosebumps on my skin. “Don’t blame me for what happens if you do.”

His arm snakes around my waist and his palm cups the statue’s breast, fingers stroking the nipple.

I shudder, then curse myself. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Shh, not a word.” He winks. “Unless you want to let me hear your voice?”

I give him the middle finger.

“That’s the last time you flip me off. Do it again and I will take matters into my own hands. Literally.”

He lights a cigarette and blows the smoke in my face like an asshole.

Soon after, his attention falls on the motionless statue. I’d feel sorry for her if she were a real person, but it’s better if he focuses on his art rather than me.

But with the damned position, I’m forced to breathe him in, the scent of man and intoxicating cologne. This close, I can’t help noticing just how well-built his face and physique are. Arguably as perfect as his beloved statues.

Too bad he’s as cold as them, too.

About twenty minutes later, I start fidgeting. It’s impossible to stay too long in one position. Unless I’m playing chess, and that’s definitely not the case right now.

It doesn’t help that I’m inexplicably drawn to Landon and keep telling myself I haven’t gone crazy yet.

“Stop shifting unless you’re trying to hump my leg. In that case, go for it.”

“I’ll hump your leg in hell, asshole,” I sign.

“Fine with me, little muse.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?” he asks without looking at me.

“Muse. Why am I your muse?”

“Figures.” It’s a single word, but he says it with such nonchalance, as if it means nothing on his destruction curriculum for the day.

I lift my hand, but he gives me a look, to suggest I stop talking, no doubt. I’m so tempted to claw his gorgeous eyes out.

I try to remain still and chance taking out my phone. Landon doesn’t seem to notice, or he probably does but doesn’t care.

My attempts to relieve myself from the growing ache between my legs tether on the edge of failure with each brush of his arm against my side. The fanning of his breath against my cheek.

Inhaling deeply, I pull up Bran’s number and find his text from last night that I wasn’t in the right state of mind to read, let alone reply to.

Brandon: Have you gotten home safe? I’m here to help if your brother causes you trouble.

Mia: Hey! Sorry for the late reply. Yeah, I got home okay, and don’t worry about Niko. I know how to handle him.

His reply is immediate.

Brandon: Good to know. I was worried something might’ve happened to you.

Something happened all right, and I’m currently paying the price for it in Landon’s arms.

Mia: Hey, Bran. I know you’ve always mentioned I should stay away from Landon (not that I’m getting close to him or anything). Do you have any pointers on how to remove myself from his radar?

Brandon: The most important step is to never get on his radar in the first place. Once you’re there, it’s impossible to shake him off unless he willingly chooses to back off. Is he bothering you?

More like he’s sucking the life out of me.

I’m about to tell Bran not to worry so as not to drive a wedge between him and his twin, but the phone is snatched from between my fingers.

I stare into Landon’s displeased face and instinctively suck in a breath. The bastard has a mysterious power of making people feel uncomfortable with a single glance.