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

Maybe I should confess about Rory. After all, he did talk to him over the phone and it’s not a good idea to pretend nothing happened. If I tell him that I wouldn’t even look in that prick’s direction, he’d believe me.

Right?

Still, I sign, “Something like what?”

“Like this.” He grabs the edge of my scarf and I yelp as he pulls it free.

I slap a hand on the hickey and I know I’ve made a terrible mistake when he clicks his tongue.

Shit.

“First, you let someone else touch you, then you do a flimsy job of hiding it with a scarf, and now, you’re trying to do it with your hand?” His voice darkens with every word. “Do you honestly believe you can protect the hickey from me?”

I shake my head.

I’m not trying to protect it. And yes, maybe a part of me believes what that asshole Rory said about how Landon stops being interested when someone else touches what’s his.

That possibility leaves me inexplicably on the edge. I tried to purge Landon out of my life, but that was a joke.

I seriously don’t know how I’d be able to go on without his craziness in my life anymore.

And that’s a scary thought that I don’t even like to consider.

“Drop your hand,” he orders with a tone that could accidentally cut someone—that someone being me.

I shake my head.

Maybe if he doesn’t look at it, his anger will dissipate—

In a fraction of a second, Landon grabs my wrist and forces it down.

His lips purse in a disapproving line and his eyes become two black holes that look like they’re straight out of hell.

Sweat beads on my spine and temples as I slowly break under the suffocating tension he commands with his eyes alone.

“Seems that you’ve forgotten who’s the only one you belong to and could use a reminder.” And with that, he leans down and bites on the hickey.

Hard.

Like a bloodthirsty vampire.





32





MIA





Pain explodes on the assaulted spot in my neck and spreads throughout my body like lethal wildfire.

However, I remain stunted in place.

Unable to move.

Unable to concentrate on anything but the feel of his lips on my battered skin and the fiery emotions only Landon can trigger inside me.

I should probably tell him I didn’t want Rory to touch me nor did I let him, really, but I can’t.

My whole body seems to have lost its functions and I’m seeping into a seamless, weightless reality where I can only exist in the moment.

Landon sucks on the skin with power that nearly empties my soul through my throat. It’s punishing, hard, and entirely cruel.

It’s also a fucked-up connection I didn’t realize we could establish. A liaison through searing pain and insatiable rage.

He finally pushes back, leaving a throbbing, tingling mess where his teeth were.

Blood coats his lips, enforcing the image that he’s a vampire who just finished feasting. On my blood.

His eyes plunge into mine, darker and completely hollow in their depths.

Only, Landon is no longer hollow. I don’t know when I started seeing him as more than the emptiness that lurks inside him and his need for anarchy, but I unfortunately do.

He tsks and that sound has somehow become part of my wildest nightmares. “It still won’t go away.”

His words ring in the studio like an ominous promise, and I expect him to bite the skin off, just to make the mark disappear.

“I didn’t let him touch me,” I sign, reining in the tremors that cause my limbs to spasm.

“He said you asked to meet him.”

“And you believed him?”

“No.” He points at my neck with a lift in his upper lip. “Until I saw that.”

I could offer excuses that Rory was too fast and I didn’t see him, but that’s all those would be.

Excuses.

I refuse to be dragged into that type of dynamic when I did nothing wrong. So I choose the option to remain silent. Fuck him.

I’m a Sokolov and we don’t offer excuses.

Landon wraps his fingers around my throat and I suppress a groan as the pad of his thumb presses against the assaulted skin.

He pushes me and I have no choice but to step back to match his movements.

“You know, I don’t react well to someone else touching my things.”

“I’m not your thing,” I sign, even though I struggle to breathe properly.

“Oh, but you are, Mia. You’re my fucking property and that means every inch of your skin belongs to me.” He digs his thumb into the injury. “Every part is my fucking property.”

My back hits the table, on top of which an assortment of Landon’s equipment clatter due to the impact.

I flinch and choke on my irregular breaths. The air around me seems to have plunged into a well of suffocating tension I can’t breathe through.

“You don’t seem to have grasped the situation, Mia. Just because I give you space and make unneeded truces for your sake doesn’t mean you can go to someone else. If you’re mine, that’s what you’ll always be. Fucking. Mine.” His other hand reaches to the zipper of my dress and he pulls it down until the cloth pools at my feet.

The night air tightens my bare nipples and naked pussy. My cheeks heat as Landon takes in the entirety of me. Lust mixes with rage in an unholy reunion, hinting at a war that’s about to blaze through.