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

Everyone is stunned into silence, including Nikolai, whose fist remains suspended in midair. I like to call this the Landon effect—quite powerful and pleasing to watch.

Mia is the first one who recovers and graces me with the glare of all glares; lips pursed and eyes blazing with fire.

She’s the holiest view I’ve ever stumbled across, and I’m not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination.

“I’m going to fucking kill you before you lay a hand on her.” Nikolai flings forward.

“Oh, that’s already done.”

Another pause.

Another myriad of beautiful, stupefied expressions that are a product of my words.

“What the fuck did you just say?” This time, Nikolai has enough patience to speak slowly.

“I said.” I close the distance between us so we’re eye to eye. “The touching part already happened. In fact, our rendezvous included more than touching, but I’ll spare you the details since you’re her brother.”

“You fucking—” He pushes into me and I’m about to let him pummel me to the ground for Mia’s difficult sake, but Bran moves in front of me and takes the punch.

My brother staggers back and falls against my chest.

The change of events is so fast-paced that everyone takes some time to come to terms with the new variable in the equation.

My idiotic fucking brother.

I grab him by the arm so that he doesn’t fall sideways and inspect the cut on his lower lip and the blood that’s gushing from it.

The motherfucker who would be dead if he didn’t have a blood relationship with Mia got him good. Bran shakes his head a few times as if he’s fighting a concussion. While I’m fine with violence and do strive for it whenever possible, Bran is literally squeamish about blood.

I pull out a tissue and help him wipe the shit off his lip as he struggles to remain standing.

Nikolai doesn’t move, his jaw ticking and his muscles tightening until the veins bulge. Killian, Jeremy, and Mia pull him back and, unlike what I expect, he doesn’t fight it.

Instead, he points his glare at his sister. “Is it true?”

She freezes, and any attempts to calm her brother down come to a staggering halt.

“Is what the fucker said true, Mia?” he asks again, his voice filled with enough tension to start a nuclear war. “Have you been sleeping with him?”

An expression I’ve never seen on Mia’s face greets me. An expression I now realize I don’t ever want to see on her delicate features again.

Shame.

First, I’m not worth it.

Now, she’s fucking ashamed of me.

She slides her gaze to me, and even though I’ve been busy trying to stop the bleeding on Bran’s fucked-up lip, I meet the eyes that have been haunting my every waking moment.

Go ahead and lie, Mia. Go ahead and deny yourself and pretend it’s all a fucking illusion.

“It’s not what you think,” she signs.

“And what does he think?” I slap the tissue against Bran’s mouth and shove his hand on it, then step in front of him so that I’m facing Mia.

“You shut up.” Her movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and hint at a complete loss of control.

Good.

Maybe this way, she’ll be able to understand the frustration of being cast aside and discarded like a used condom.

“I’m happy to shut up, but only if you tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”

Liquid eyes the color of a stormy sea glare me down as if I’m the next target on her hit list.

“What is he talking about?” It’s Killian who asks this time, his expression darkening.

Considering his pseudo-brother relationship with Mia, his distress brings me great satisfaction. How does it feel to walk in my shoes, motherfucker?

Mia glares at me again before she signs, “It was just a ruse that meant nothing. It’s all over now.”

I’m going to choke the little shit to fucking death.

But then, in the still-functioning logical part of my brain, I realize she’s saying all these demeaning things on purpose.

I let my grin show through, hoping the blood makes it more gruesome. “I disrespectfully disagree. It was more than a ruse and is far from being over. Mia and I came to a slight disagreement about priorities and my notorious penchant for anarchy. Despite my dramatic entry, I’m not here to stir up any shit. On the contrary, I came to propose a long-due truce between our clubs.”

“Not even when you’re buried six feet under,” Nikolai snarls.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to rule it out.” I meet Mia’s gaze. “This rare chance will work out so well for both of us if you just give it a go.”

“My sister is not for fucking sale.”

“I never suggested that. Unlike what she said, Mia came to meet me every night. There was no coercion involved in our nighttime rendezvous.”

Nikolai’s eyes slide to her again and she looks hotter than a ripe tomato before she meets my gaze. “Whether the truce happens or not, I’ll never go back to you.”

“Never say never.” I was going to add muse at the end, but I’m not in the mood for the extended audience to have their nose in my business.

It’s enough that I’ve made this very public display of affection.

Her chin trembles. “You’re insane.”