God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods, #4)(24)

Still rummaging through her bag, she walks in my direction as clueless as innocent prey.

There, little muse. I might give you a treat after I turn you into a statue.

“Mia!”

She’s only a few meters away from where I’m lurking when she comes to a halt and turns around.

I curse under my breath upon detecting the last two people I need in this situation.

The first is none other than Killian—the guy who stole my sister’s heart despite my explicit refusal of the damned relationship. The other is Nikolai, Mia’s older brother, who might be out to slice my throat the moment he sees me.

Both needless presences catch up to her and I have to change my position to get a better view of the situation.

Logically, I should leave before those two catch a glimpse of me and choose to give me a taste of my own torture medicine. And it’ll be much worse than I could imagine, considering I trespassed on their turf.

The risks I’m willing to take for the sake of my muse are irritatingly stunning.

She signs something to them that I believe means, “What are you doing here?”

I might have looked at some sign language videos—ASL, not BSL since there are significant differences. And by some, I mean dozens of them. It was enough to become proficient. What? It’s not my fault that I’m not only an effortless polyglot but also a fast learner.

“I’m taking Niko on a stroll,” Killian replies with an easy grin.

His cousin kicks his foot. “I’m not your dog, motherfucker.”

Killian doesn’t seem perturbed in the least. He’s probably the one who resembles me the most from that bunch of little fuckers. The only difference is that I’m culturally superior and have a more prominent penchant for anarchy.

As I’m contemplating the best way to dump his body in the ocean without permanently losing my sister, something happens that derails my whole thought process.

Mia’s eyes twinkle as her lips pull in a genuine, happy smile. It’s the wildest look I’ve ever seen on her face. And, coincidentally, they’ve all happened around her family members.

As if they’re the only ones who deserve this side of her.

“Wanted to check on you,” Nikolai says and pushes a cup in her hand. “Bought your favorite Frappuccino. Double espresso shot with caramel syrup and cream on top.”

“I, unavoidably, helped him,” Killian says.

“You did not,” Nikolai retorts.

“My presence was in itself a massive help. If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve been kicked out by the cashier, who was scared to death by your grim, unconsciously frightening presence.”

Mia signs a thanks and accepts the cup, then she leans in for a quick hug with both her brother and cousin.

A hugger. A blasphemous, absolutely distasteful habit with no practical meaning whatsoever. It’s not needed for sex and, when used, can lead to an awkward angle.

But then again, I’ve never appreciated touching people when my cock isn’t involved.

“Want to grab something to eat before we continue our stroll?” Killian asks her.

She shakes her head and signs that she has a class.

Nikolai pats her head as if she’s still a child. “Don’t make any trouble, and if you do, for all that’s unholy, tell me about it.”

“And me.” Killian points a thumb at himself. “We can turn mere trouble into a tornado.”

She signs an “Okay,” then they finally part ways.

Thankfully, Killian and Nikolai go in the opposite direction, while Mia continues toward me as she slurps her drink.

She reaches into her dress pocket and retrieves her phone, completely oblivious to the trap she’s walking right into.

I don’t make myself noticeable when she’s near. No.

I wait and bide my time for the right moment.

Once she passes me, I stand behind her and whisper, “So you do use your phone, and yet you left me on Read. Where are your manners, little muse?”





9





MIA





My carefully built illusion shatters into a million pieces all around me. The shards prick my skin with the deliberate precision of a thousand cuts.

The straw falls from my lips and I sluggishly swallow the liquid trapped in my mouth as if it’s poison.

A part of me is urging myself to run, hide, bury this episode in the tortured abyss of my soul where all fucked-up creatures reside.

And as much as I’d love to put up a brave fa?ade, I recognize how careful I need to be instead. I’ve witnessed firsthand what it looks like to be in the middle of Landon King’s orbit, and to say I didn’t survive would be the mother of all understatements.

However, I abandon the flight option.

People like Landon get off on the act of chasing more than the finality of catching. If I run, I’ll only provoke the insatiable and completely sadistic side of him.

So, against my better judgment, I gather what remains of my courage and turn around.

I’m not even fully facing him when he grabs me by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh before he shoves me against the wall.

My back hits the brick and I swallow a wince as my Frappuccino shakes and swirls, almost asking for help on my behalf.

His marble-like body presses against mine as a stark reminder of last night.