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

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I sign. “Also, what’s with all the candles? Are they for your demon friends who are sitting on your shoulders and whispering nasty things?”

“They’re for my foul-mouthed demon lady.”

My brow furrows. “I don’t like candles.”

“But you don’t like the dark—a piece of information I discovered last night when you momentarily lost your marbles. I suppose that has to do with the reason you refuse to let the world hear your voice.”

My lips part and I stare at him as if he’s an alien who came with the sole purpose of wiping out humanity.

“Your face says you’re wondering how I know. Reading people comes naturally to me; they’re rather predictable and dreadfully boring.” He pauses, lips thinning as if he doesn’t want to admit what follows. “You’re not. Predictable and boring, I mean. Because even though I desiccated your fear, I’m still unable to figure out the reason behind it. I’m impressed. Others wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours in your position, but you’re still going strong. I applaud the determination.”

“Should I feel honored?”

“Preferably.” He leans his elbows on his knees and steeples his fingers near his chin. “But first, let’s work on that mystery.”

I knock down his knight. “If by mystery you mean the missing ball situation you’ll suffer from by the end of tonight, then sure. Let’s go for it.”

“Stop having violent thoughts for a second.” He advances his queen to protect his rook. “I’m more interested in the incident that stole your voice. Tell me more.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“How about pretty please?”

“Still no.”

“Pity. I thought you’d crumble for my carefully crafted charming persona, but you don’t like nice and charming, do you, little muse? I have a feeling that you prefer being chased and cornered while you fight for your life.”

I knock down his queen with a huge grin, then throw it at him. He catches it with a sly tilt of his gorgeous lips.

“Let’s try again, and I need your mind to be open to other options aside from no.” He strokes his dead queen like he does his unfeeling statues. “You can tell me the reason behind your mutism, or as a second, less preferable option, we can discuss your kinks.”

“How about no to both?”

“Let’s make a bet,” he says, completely ignoring my words. “If I win, we’ll talk about the silence situation. If you win, it’s the kinks.”

“Nice try. But that’s not how it works, you narcissistic psycho. When you give a choice, you have to give up something when you lose.”

“Like.”

“If you win, we’ll talk about perverted kinks.” That I don’t have. “If I win, you become my slave boy.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow. “I didn’t realize you had that kink you naughty, naughty girl. I do refuse, however, as I’m too dominant to ever be a slave to anyone, including the devil himself. I’d rather strap women up and tie them down as I fuck them to within an inch of their lives.”

“I don’t mean sexually, you pervert. I meant that you’ll have to do everything I tell you and serve me until I’m satisfied.”

“For how long?”

“A week.”

“Hmm. You got yourself a deal.”

“Your queen is dead and so are you.” I push the first of two pawns protecting his king. One more move and he’s done for.

Of course, he’ll move his king out of the way, but if he does that, he’ll be cornered by my bishop. It’s over on all accounts.

Landon’s annoying smirk remains in place as he moves that damn rook right next to my king and out of reach of my queen and bishop.

“Checkmate.”

I stare at the board, refusing to believe what I’m seeing.

It couldn’t be.

“You thought sacrificing the queen was blasphemy, but you forgot a significant anecdote. The queen’s job is to die for the king.”

I glare at him. How could he be so hateful, even when talking about chess?

“Now. For that kinks discussion, care to elaborate?”

“Joke’s on you. I don’t have any kinks.” I grin back, matching his psycho energy with my wild and determined one.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You got off on being ambushed in the dark and choking on my cock, so that means you have a submissive streak. One kink down, more to go.” He leans his head on his fist. “Don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”

“You want me to believe that?”

“Fine. I don’t bite outside of sex.”

Perverted asshole.

I busy myself rearranging the chess pieces. What the hell am I supposed to say in this situation? He’s not the type who’ll be satisfied with half-truths, and I can’t exactly go with the ‘I’m a virgin’ confession, because then he’ll possibly become more insistent about claiming me.

Or worse, he’ll mock me for being such a closeted prude, since he probably lost his virginity the first time he got a boner.

“You’re far from innocent,” he comments dryly. “You must’ve had your fair share of painfully unexceptional dicks—a problem my cock will fix, by the way, so let’s hear it, what do you enjoy when you spread your legs?”