God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods, #4)

“Arrogant much?”

“Just the right amount, in my opinion.”

“Your opinion, just like your whole personality and existence, is awfully flawed and in need of a desperate revamp.”

“Oh?” He strangles the knight between his index and middle fingers. “I thought I’d survived just fine until now.”

I knock down his rook with an innocent grin. “You thought wrong. But hey, it’s never too late to start being a decent human being.”

“The thought of decency bores me to tears, so I’m inclined to disregard the suggestion.”

“Why?”

“I don’t subscribe to the righteous notion most people strive for.”

“Don’t I know it. You’re more interested in chaos and mayhem.”

A smile stretches his lips and I’m momentarily distracted from the board. All I can do is stare as light twinkles in his normally dead eyes, sending streaks of brightness within. It’s not his usual taunting smirk with a dash of sardonic irony. This is possibly the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile on his sculpture-like face.

And I don’t mean he has a sharp jaw but that he’s really as frigid and emotionless as his statues.

“Touché.”

I clear my throat and then sign, “How about you do something different for a change? You can start with small steps.”

“Such as?”

“Stop kidnapping people and taking them to places against their will, maybe?”

“But how else will I have your full attention that’s not muddied with either babysitting Maya or following the Heathens like a lost puppy?” He pushes his second rook, again putting it in an obviously volatile position. “Not to mention the unnecessary time you’ve spent with my brother. Spoiler alert, the girls prefer me over him.”

“Well, they’ve made the mistake of their lives. Bran is much more likable than you. In fact, you’re on different planets and don’t even compare.” I narrow my eyes on the rook.

What’s he playing at? There must be a secret move that he’s trying to pull, but what is it? He already lost his other rook, and it’s downright reckless to sacrifice the second one just after.

“And yet it’s my fingers you came all over and it’s my cum that decorated your pretty little face.”

I jerk up, my attention flying to him. His features are overshadowed by the candles’ dim light and pure sadism. The cocky smirk slips back onto his face with a vengeance. All of a sudden, he seems bigger and darker than I recall, as if he gained a few inches of height in the span of seconds.

“Stop talking to me like that,” I sign.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your toy.”

“I prefer my future fuck doll.”

“More like your Grim Reaper, because I’ll slice your throat while you sleep.”

He laughs. “You’re such a menace, I want to gobble you up.”

“I’ll give you indigestion, asshole.”

“Worth it, muse.”

“Not sure you’ll think the same when you’re drowning in a pool of blood.”

“Blood. Yum. You just keep ticking all the kink boxes today.” He pretends to be shocked. “Did you do your research on me, after all?”

“Not even if you were the last man available.”

“Last man available to everyone? No. To you? Highly likely.”

I shake my head even as I make my move, choosing not to knock off the rook so that I won’t fall for his possible trap.

My body hums with inexplicable energy, a type I’ve never had while playing chess, even with the most skilled players I’ve had the honor to face.

The strong emotions nearly burst at the seams with every passing second, and it terrifies the shit out of me.

I haven’t had such a visceral reaction since that doomed day. Only, now, it’s fundamentally different and confusingly exciting. In fact, this feeling is similar to when I gasped, recoiled, and rode his fingers to orgasm.

Or when he thrust in and out of my mouth and used me to reach his peak.

It’s an addicting frenzy that I want more of, but I’m also judging myself too hard for wanting this from psycho Landon.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I sign. “Also, what’s with all the candles? Are they for your demon friends who are sitting on your shoulders and whispering nasty things?”

“They’re for my foul-mouthed demon lady.”

My brow furrows. “I don’t like candles.”

“But you don’t like the dark—a piece of information I discovered last night when you momentarily lost your marbles. I suppose that has to do with the reason you refuse to let the world hear your voice.”

My lips part and I stare at him as if he’s an alien who came with the sole purpose of wiping out humanity.

“Your face says you’re wondering how I know. Reading people comes naturally to me; they’re rather predictable and dreadfully boring.” He pauses, lips thinning as if he doesn’t want to admit what follows. “You’re not. Predictable and boring, I mean. Because even though I desiccated your fear, I’m still unable to figure out the reason behind it. I’m impressed. Others wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours in your position, but you’re still going strong. I applaud the determination.”

“Should I feel honored?”

“Preferably.” He leans his elbows on his knees and steeples his fingers near his chin. “But first, let’s work on that mystery.”

I knock down his knight. “If by mystery you mean the missing ball situation you’ll suffer from by the end of tonight, then sure. Let’s go for it.”

“Stop having violent thoughts for a second.” He advances his queen to protect his rook. “I’m more interested in the incident that stole your voice. Tell me more.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“How about pretty please?”

“Still no.”

“Pity. I thought you’d crumble for my carefully crafted charming persona, but you don’t like nice and charming, do you, little muse? I have a feeling that you prefer being chased and cornered while you fight for your life.”

I knock down his queen with a huge grin, then throw it at him. He catches it with a sly tilt of his gorgeous lips.

“Let’s try again, and I need your mind to be open to other options aside from no.” He strokes his dead queen like he does his unfeeling statues. “You can tell me the reason behind your mutism, or as a second, less preferable option, we can discuss your kinks.”

“How about no to both?”

“Let’s make a bet,” he says, completely ignoring my words. “If I win, we’ll talk about the silence situation. If you win, it’s the kinks.”

“Nice try. But that’s not how it works, you narcissistic psycho. When you give a choice, you have to give up something when you lose.”

“Like.”

“If you win, we’ll talk about perverted kinks.” That I don’t have. “If I win, you become my slave boy.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow. “I didn’t realize you had that kink you naughty, naughty girl. I do refuse, however, as I’m too dominant to ever be a slave to anyone, including the devil himself. I’d rather strap women up and tie them down as I fuck them to within an inch of their lives.”

“I don’t mean sexually, you pervert. I meant that you’ll have to do everything I tell you and serve me until I’m satisfied.”

“For how long?”

“A week.”

“Hmm. You got yourself a deal.”

“Your queen is dead and so are you.” I push the first of two pawns protecting his king. One more move and he’s done for.

Of course, he’ll move his king out of the way, but if he does that, he’ll be cornered by my bishop. It’s over on all accounts.

Landon’s annoying smirk remains in place as he moves that damn rook right next to my king and out of reach of my queen and bishop.

“Checkmate.”

I stare at the board, refusing to believe what I’m seeing.

It couldn’t be.

“You thought sacrificing the queen was blasphemy, but you forgot a significant anecdote. The queen’s job is to die for the king.”

I glare at him. How could he be so hateful, even when talking about chess?

“Now. For that kinks discussion, care to elaborate?”