God of Ruin: A Dark College Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 4)

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 façade, 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.

Of the terror.

The helplessness.

The strange arousal.

All of it.

He’s in an uncharacteristic hoodie today and his eyes are hidden by aviator sunglasses that give him a mysterious edge.

“I should’ve done this sooner.” He tilts his head to the side, studying the length of me as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

Why is he wearing the damn sunglasses? It’s already hard to read his eyes without the added camouflage.

I search our surroundings for anyone who might be able to help, but I realize we’re in a small nook in the corner that most people don’t even notice.

Landon releases my shoulder and reaches a hand to my face. I tense, my body getting ready to fight, claw his eyes out and drink his brain through the sockets if he as much as hits me—

He strokes my cheek and I freeze, all my murderous thoughts coming to a sudden halt.

My breath catches and my lips part.

That’s about the last thing I expected the psycho to do.

His long, lean fingers glide from my forehead to my brows, over my eyelashes, then swipe down the bridge of my nose. As I watch with a completely stupefied expression, his exploration continues under my eyes, over my cheeks, and down my jaw before lifting my chin.

Every stroke leaves a burning fire in its wake. No, it’s an avalanche of tingles, goosebumps, and pent-up euphoria.

Like a blind person trying to discern someone’s features, he lingers and strokes gently. Too gently, even.

My thoughts scatter when he slides his fingers over my upper lip, his middle finger swiping down my Cupid’s bow, then moves to my bottom lip. This time, his thumb presses on the flesh with a breathtaking firmness.

I’m entranced, absolutely taken aback by the sight in front of me and the overwhelming feelings blazing through me.

It’s like I’ve been transported to a different dimension where everything is bizarre and the merest touch provokes an extreme reaction.

“Stunning.” His deep voice, the sound of dark lullabies, chains me further to the alien feelings.

I’m no different than a fly caught in the web of a spider, completely paralyzed as life is sucked out of my limbs.

“Five out of five,” he whispers in words that have no business being so destabilizing. “As expected of my little muse.”

He flexes his hand into an open palm and swipes it down my throat. The touch is intimately explorative and breathtakingly stimulating. His fingers latch onto the leather choker and he uses it to pull me flush against him.

I have to keep the Frappuccino to the side or he’d crush it between us.

A sly smirk lifts his sinfully gorgeous lips as he toys with the leather, his fingers skimming my skin as if he has every right to.

As if he claimed me in a different lifetime and is currently taking me back.

“I knew there was a wild side to you. Tell me. Do you fancy being strangled while a cock rams inside your soaking wet cunt? Or do you prefer having a cock choke your pretty little throat and fill it with cum?”

His crude words, delivered in the most sophisticated manner, snap me out of my drug-like haze.

And the worst realization is that another part of my body mourns the loss of that haze. There must be something freakishly wrong with me. How could I go so still when he touched me with the sensuality of a lover?

I push against him with my free hand, my face heating and my mind thinking of a thousand curses I can use to send him to the afterlife.

My attempts to free myself only manage to amuse him to no end. So I scratch at his hand, but that doesn’t erase the provocative smirk from his face.

He releases me, though he doesn’t give my space back. “My, my. You’re supposed to be a harmless tiny mouse, but you’re fast upgrading to a kitten with claws. Such a feisty little one.”

I hug the Frappuccino against my chest and sign, “I’m not little, you psycho asshole. Go fuck yourself.”

“Calling me names won’t stop me from referring to you as little. And I would rather fuck a hole instead of doing it myself.”

My lips part.

No. He couldn’t have understood every word. It’s just impossible.

This prick can’t possibly—

“Surprised I speak ASL?” He grins. “I figured it’d be better than scribbling on your phone whenever you’re about to burst with curses. Now, I understand all the curses, not just the fuck-you ones.”

“How?” I sign, bewildered.

“I happen to be a genius. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you, asshole.”

“Which you should’ve. Again, where are your manners?”

“You’re talking to me about manners when you have a tendency to corner people like a creep?”

“I prefer the word observer.”

I sneer, my chest nearly exploding from the audacity of this damn man.

“Walk with me?” he asks like some sort of a medieval gentleman that he definitely is not.

I lift my chin. “You expect me to say yes to that?”

“No, which is why I asked politely. The next time won’t be as polite, so I suggest you accept the offer before it’s taken off the table.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“As I mentioned, I prefer holes, Mia. Keep up. At any rate, we’re moving to the second stage.” His voice lowers. “Walk with me or I will ask Maya instead.”

My spine jerks.

“She’s finished school for the day and is probably filming herself for social media in the Pin Café, which happens to be her hangout. I suppose if I walk there, I’ll find her within fifteen minutes. Should I?”

“I’ll slice your throat before you talk to her.”

“You mean, walk with her.”

“Stop it.”

He stands straighter, devouring the horizon and my air. “There’s only one way for me to do that and it is, as I specified a few moments ago, if you fucking walk with me.”

Every molecule in me demands I kick him in the face and send shards of the sunglasses into his damn eyes.

But I have enough access to logic to realize that if I do that, I can’t guarantee Maya’s safety.

She tends to fall for men’s looks more often than not, and if this bastard pulls the charming card that he wields so well, he might convince her he never intended to hurt Nikolai. He might flirt and seduce her until she reaches the point of self-destruction.

Because that’s what this asshole does. He ruins things and he ruins them thoroughly without allowing them a chance of survival.

My fingers tighten on the Frappuccino, the cold condensation doing nothing to alleviate the volcano raging in my veins.

“Let’s do it later,” I sign while offering him my worst glare. “I have class now.”

“The class can wait.” He grabs my elbow, fingers nearly breaking the bone. “I can’t.”

He pulls me with a strength that makes me lose balance. The Frappuccino falls and splashes on the ground, the cream and coffee forming a gruesome murder scene.

The ominous image lingers in my head as he drags me behind him with blinding strength.

I try to push at his hand, to claw the skin and cause pain, but then again, he’s barely human and definitely inhumane, so his type doesn’t really feel anything.

In my attempts to free myself, I don’t notice we’re already outside the campus. Landon has dragged me to where he parked his car in a secluded place a safe distance from the college.

I know it’s his car, because I saw it at the Elites’ mansion once. A special edition, matte black McLaren with a unique shine material on the side.

It looks as elusive as the asshole himself.

He releases me, then removes the hoodie and his sunglasses. I often forget how illegally attractive he is, even in casual wear. He has a regal presence. Toned body, broad shoulders, lean waist, and the right height.

Everything is perfection—from his tousled hair to the slight stubble on his strong jaw. Even his only imperfection, the mole on the corner of his right eye, adds more to his penetrating charm.

An illusionary charm that he wears like a permanent mask.

Or maybe it’s not so permanent. He certainly didn’t waste any time in coming after me and showing his true colors following my fabulous blood bath plan.

“Why did you bring me here?” I sign.

“I couldn’t exactly stay in the Heathens’ territory for long or some spy would point your brother and cousins in my direction and there would be carnage. For them, not me.”

“Stop being delusional. You could never win against my brother, Kill, and Jeremy.”

“But I already did. Countless times. I can do it all over again if you need tangible proof that I’m stronger than all the Heathens.”

“And yet little ole me managed to give you a refreshing bath in pig blood.” I smile sweetly, matching his savage energy with mine.

“A one-off.”

“I can make it a two-off if you don’t back the hell away from me and my family.”

“Your provocations are a turn-on, so unless you’re in the mood to get on your knees and choke on my cock, I’d suggest you refrain from making them so casually.”

He points at the small tent in his pants as stark evidence of his words. My cheeks feel as if they’ve gone up in flames.

“You’re a sick bastard.”

“So everyone keeps telling me. Don’t be part of the herd. It’s both boring and pointless.”

“Ever thought that there’s some truth in it if everyone keeps saying that?”

“Definitely not. Everyone tends to be stuck in a neurotypical, empty cycle that I thankfully don’t belong to.”

I pause, my mind going back to the times all those therapists tried to mold me into a normal person. I refused to comply. I still do.

I fucking despise therapists and their holier-than-thou attitudes. I despise how I felt in their presence—small, abnormal, and not fit for society.

Is that possibly what Landon feels when he clashes with the world due to the way he’s wired different?

Hating myself for thinking of his perspective even for a moment, I glare at him. “Are we done?”

“Far from it. We haven’t even gotten started.”

“You told me to walk with you and I kept my part of the bargain. So we’re done here.”

“Not yet.” He unlocks the car. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

“What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?”

He appears disappointed as he tuts. “I thought you were smarter than this. Don’t make me give you an ultimatum again. We’ve been there, done that, and it didn’t exactly work out well for you.”

I’m going to bash this bastard’s head in and watch him bleed to death.

I shelf that thought for another day and say with fake mockery, “I feel sad for you.”

“Sad?”

“You can only thrive by threatening and offering ultimatums. It must be so sad to be you.”

“On the contrary, holding power over the herd is euphoric.” His provocatively gorgeous smile remains in place as he juts his chin forward. “Get in the car.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t give a fuck. Must be so sad to be you,” he repeats my words with that damn smile that I’m itching to punch off his face.

He pushes me forward with a palm on my shoulder.

I slide in with a grumble and a shove against him so he’ll remove his hand. The psycho’s only reaction is a grin and a shake of his head.

It’s like I’m amusement material and he’s enjoying every minute of pushing my buttons.

“Where are we going?” I ask once he’s behind the steering wheel.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He hits the engine and it groans loudly.

I instinctively hold on to my seat belt. What? I prefer smooth-sailing cars that don’t make enough noise to wake the dead.

Sports cars and mayhem suit Landon to perfection, though.

As the car rolls down the road, his large hand falls on my pale thigh, touching the bare space between the hem of my dress and my knees.

His fingers squeeze the flesh. “Relax. I promise not to devour you. Yet.”

I push at his hand, needing to get rid of the sudden attack of tingles and goosebumps. Now that I think about it, a variation of this foreign sensation happened the last time he touched me, too.

It must be a manifestation of my disgust. Nothing more.

“Let me go,” I sign.

“What was that?” He feigns innocence. “Come closer? I know I’m irresistible, but I’m also driving, so you need to keep it in your pants for a bit.”

I flash him the middle finger, to which he chuckles. “As I said, I’m open to fucking you, but not at the moment.”

“You and I will never happen.”

“Never say never.” He tightens his grip on my thigh as if to cement his words.

I try and fail to remove his hand. It’s like he’s attached to me by an invisible string.

“Speaking of never, how come you’ve never replied to my text or followed me back on Instagram?”

He followed me on Instagram? I didn’t notice that. Then again, I haven’t been in the right frame of mind since yesterday. I’m also still sleep-deprived because even though Maya allowed me to share her bed, I couldn’t relax enough to sleep after those damn texts and the images of his hand on my throat.

“Ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I don’t like you?”

“Small detail that can be changed.”

“Not even if you turn into a saint.”

“Why would I do something so dull? Besides, you might fool the whole world, yourself included, but I’m well aware that you’re not into saints. Not even a little. Not even close.”

I swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, my little muse. We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I. Well, not identical cloth, but it’s similar enough. And if I have to prove it, so be it.”

The car comes to a halt and I stiffen in my seat as I look at the dark building in the middle of nowhere.

Landon’s grip on my thigh brings me back to him. A terrifying smirk lifts his lips. “Welcome to my territory.”