Glyn envelops me in a hug and pushes a bag into my hand. “It’s small gifts from the three of us. Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to,” I sign and look at Bran, who’s unusually stiff, then type on my phone, “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“You personally invited me. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a polite smile, keeping his eyes on me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nikolai pushes me behind him and gets nose to nose with Bran. “Another elaborate plan from your brother? What is it this time? Arson? Assault? Murder, maybe?”
I grab onto Nikolai’s arm, and when he doesn’t move, I stand beside him and sign, “Bran is my friend. I invited him to my birthday.”
“It’s okay, Mia,” Bran says to me, even though his eyes, disturbingly similar to Landon’s when he’s angry, remain on Niko. “I couldn’t care less about your brother’s opinion of me, but it’s probably better that I leave.”
“No.” I shake my head a few times.
“Mia is right,” Jeremy says. “You’re our guest.”
Killian, who just finished kissing Glyn—or more like eating her face in front of her brother—releases her and grabs Niko by the shoulder. “If you can accept Glyn and Cecily, you’ll have to accept Bran, too. He has nothing to do with Lan, despite the creepy physical resemblance.”
“He’s right,” Glyn says in a soft voice. “Bran is completely different from Lan. I promise.”
Nikolai continues glaring at Bran as if he wants to seep inside him and destroy whatever he finds in there.
This side of my brother is eerily frightening, and the worst part is that I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.
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.