“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.”