God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods, #4)(129)

“Who says I’m unable to love you?”

“You couldn’t say it earlier.”

“Because I don’t like to label what I feel for you as love. This”—he points between us—“is much more potent and twisted than mere love. If loving someone means letting them go and wishing them happiness with someone else, then I don’t subscribe to that definition. But if love means protecting and wanting to take care of you till my dying day, then I love you more than anyone has ever loved another human being.”

My lips tremble. “You…do?”

“Depending on your definition of the word.” He takes my hands in his bigger ones, leans his forehead against mine, and closes his eyes.

I study his sharp jawline and the fluttering of his lashes over his skin. I’ve never seen someone so brutally beautiful as he is. And yet, at this moment, he feels like a different man.

No, not different. Changed.

I used to only see a monster in him, but I’ve found out he’s so much more than that.

No, he’ll probably never be normal, but I’m irrevocably in love with him, faults and all. He was born different and always will be, so why should he comply with social standards?

“Listen to me carefully, Mia. My whole life, I’ve been a desolate, empty entity of anarchy and violence. My black soul couldn’t survive without inflicting some form of chaos or producing a decadent burst of creativity, but even that has dwindled and started to drift from the center of my being. Without art, I’m nothing but a serial killer in the making. Ever since you came along, not only have you pushed my creativity to heights I never imagined would be possible, but you also filled up the emptiness with your stubborn submissiveness and stupid flowers with names. While I can’t possibly be your Prince Charming—and rightly so, since he’s an overrated idiot—and I can never be neurotypical, whether genetically or mentally, I promise you this, Mia. I’ll always see your perspective before mine, not because I have to, but because I want to. I’m in for the long haul.”

I stroke his cheek, careful not to press where his fading bruises are. “What if you get tired of me down the road?”

“Complete and utter nonsense. I’d get tired of myself before I’d ever get tired of you, and we both know that I believe myself to be God’s gift to humans.”

I chuckle and he opens his eyes, a sly grin lifting the corner of his lips. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“That you love me. I want to hear you say it.”

I release a sigh. I have no qualms about how different and absolutely thrilling being in a relationship with Landon is. I know if maybe down the line, I find someone else or end things between us, he’ll revert to his toxic ways faster than I can blink.

But that’s the thing.

I’m definitely as crazy as Landon is, because I do believe that we are the forever type of couple. For us, breaking up is impossible.

If he doesn’t make sure of it, I will.

There’s no way I’d let another woman have him. Not in this lifetime.

I grab his face with both hands and whisper against his mouth, “I love you, Lan.”

He inches closer until his lips nearly brush against mine. “And I love you, Mia. Forever.”

His lips meet mine and he seals the confession with a searing kiss.





EPILOGUE 1—MIA





THREE MONTHS LATER





Life has never made as much sense as it does lately.

Or maybe it started to make sense after Landon slid into my life and wreaked havoc on the very foundation of my being.

In return, he offered me himself—unfiltered, unapologetic, and absolutely unhinged.

Today, he’s offering something more in the form of a peek into his past.

He brought me to London so I could meet his parents over the summer vacation.

He’s tried to bring me here countless times, but I’ve always told him I wasn’t ready, more out of cowardice than anything else; however, he’s always respected my decision and hasn’t pushed me to make the trip.

His parents should’ve come to New York after he got shot, but Landon asked my father, who’s now a big fan of his—since he saved both me and Maya—to bury the incident so that his parents wouldn’t find out.

He disguised the injury as something minor he suffered while working out and said it was pointless to worry his parents.

“The time some prick stabbed me, they didn’t leave my side for days and Mum wouldn’t stop crying. I prefer not to repeat that,” he said.

Naturally, no police were involved in the incident due to my parents’ influence. Mr. and Mrs. Pratt were dumped somewhere no one but my father knows and their names were casually added to the MIA list. Landon’s name was never mentioned in regards to her death and he faced no legal inquiry whatsoever.

At any rate, I couldn’t push back the date to meet his parents anymore. Besides, I’ve always been curious about the two people who made Landon, Brandon, and Glyndon. Three siblings with entirely different personalities.

As we step to the front door, I pull on my blue dress, even though it reaches my knees. “Are you sure you told them I was coming?”

“On my face? Why would I tell Mum and Dad that?”