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

I grab his hand and pull him back so that he looks at me. “It’s my birthday. I get to invite whomever I please. Don’t ruin it, please.”

He grunts and snatches his pack of cigarettes, but before any of us can release a breath, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Oh, no.

Please tell me I’m overthinking—

My hopeful thoughts come to an end when a very familiar, effortlessly taunting voice echoes in the air.

“What’s with the tense atmosphere? I thought this was a birthday. Also, did someone mention the word ‘ruin’?”

My eyes widen upon clashing with none other than Landon’s.

I was wrong.

He doesn’t look one bit done with me.





25





LANDON





Different day, same irreparable need to fuck up the world and watch it crash and burn.

A wave of hostility shoots in my direction, attempting—and failing—to penetrate my skin from every side. Glares and sneers bounce off my outer layer like rubber arrows.

None of them mean shit to me.

The only one I honor with my undivided attention is the girl in a hot black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. A leather collar is wrapped around her delicate throat and my favorite blue ribbons snake through her pigtails.

Defiant, proud eyes the color of blue wildflowers stare at me. For a moment, during the fraction of a second when I made my spectacular theatrical entry, those eyes were stupefied, then those emotions morphed into being horrified, but now they’re pools of disapproval.

I can work with disapproval.

Hate, even.

I’m proficient in antagonistic situations and won’t be leaving until I’m back in my muse’s good graces. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I listened to the recording of her voice on a loop.

And I didn’t know I was capable of missing someone.

Now, the method I came up with might be controversial at best and suicidal at worst, but I need to set certain records straight in front of the whole world.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Jeremy, the waste of space bulk of a man, tightens his grip on Cecily and sharpens his entire body for an attack.

In fact, all of them do, including my own siblings. They don’t have a loyal bone in their bodies. The only one who’s subtle about their need to maim me is Killian, but he does hold Glyn close, as if he needs to protect her from me—her own flesh and blood.

Glyn and Cecily look more aggrieved than old ladies who’ve lost their pensions and are seriously considering the option of burying themselves alive. Bran’s expression turns to that of full-blown pain like when he watched me get stabbed for his fragile honor.

At the other extreme stands none other than Nikolai. In the myriad of conflicted and absolutely stunning reactions to my godly presence, he’s the one who fails to hide an ounce of hostility and lets it flood his body language and manic expression.

“I thought this was a birthday and everyone was invited,” I say lightly, ignoring the world war that’s brewing in the distance.

“You’re not,” Killian says point-blank.

“Seems that I am now.” I step toward Mia, who’s been watching me the entire time as if I’m a statue, not its maker. “Happy Birthday. Aside from the gift of my attendance, I have something else for you, but I’d rather give it to you in private—”

I don’t manage to take my second step before Nikolai slams his fist square into my beautiful face.

Coughs escape my clogged throat and I spit the metallic liquid that’s filling my mouth on the floor. My first instinct is to spew it in Nikolai’s fucking face, but that won’t do me any favors for the case I’m trying to make.

“Lan…” Glyn releases herself from her boyfriend and comes running to me.

Maybe I was wrong and she does have some semblance of loyalty to me, after all.

She stops a few paces away as if she’s scared to get any closer. “Just…go.”

I take it back. She just doesn’t want any drama in her lowlife boyfriend’s place and is probably scared for his cousin’s life.

Which is legitimate since if he weren’t my muse’s brother, he’d be driven up the wall with my fist as we speak. Then probably shipped to a mental institute that he so desperately needs.

“I didn’t go through all the trouble of bribing incompetent security guards just to leave.” My gaze meets Mia’s horrified one.

She’s taken a step forward, and one of her hands is balled into a tight fist. A part of me soars at the idea that she’s worried about me, after all, but it soon crashes and burns when she grabs onto her brother’s arm.

“He’s not worth it, Niko.”

That’s what she signs—with a straight face, I might add.

Did she just say I’m not worth it? Me? Landon fucking King?

Nikolai obviously disagrees and definitely thinks—like everyone else who isn’t Mia—that I’m well worth it since he raises his fist again.

Killian subtly pulls Glyn from the middle of the action so that she’s once again in his overrated protective cocoon.

“Time out.” I lift a hand in front of Nikolai. “Before you proceed with your attempts at rearranging my features, allow me to clarify an important element. I happen to be in the process of courting your sister, and any attempts at ruining my face will not play in the favor of said task.”