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.
“I thought this was a birthday and everyone was invited,” I say lightly, ignoring the world war that’s brewing in the distance.
“You’re not,” Killian says point-blank.
“Seems that I am now.” I step toward Mia, who’s been watching me the entire time as if I’m a statue, not its maker. “Happy Birthday. Aside from the gift of my attendance, I have something else for you, but I’d rather give it to you in private—”
I don’t manage to take my second step before Nikolai slams his fist square into my beautiful face.
Coughs escape my clogged throat and I spit the metallic liquid that’s filling my mouth on the floor. My first instinct is to spew it in Nikolai’s fucking face, but that won’t do me any favors for the case I’m trying to make.
“Lan…” Glyn releases herself from her boyfriend and comes running to me.
Maybe I was wrong and she does have some semblance of loyalty to me, after all.
She stops a few paces away as if she’s scared to get any closer. “Just…go.”
I take it back. She just doesn’t want any drama in her lowlife boyfriend’s place and is probably scared for his cousin’s life.
Which is legitimate since if he weren’t my muse’s brother, he’d be driven up the wall with my fist as we speak. Then probably shipped to a mental institute that he so desperately needs.
“I didn’t go through all the trouble of bribing incompetent security guards just to leave.” My gaze meets Mia’s horrified one.
She’s taken a step forward, and one of her hands is balled into a tight fist. A part of me soars at the idea that she’s worried about me, after all, but it soon crashes and burns when she grabs onto her brother’s arm.
“He’s not worth it, Niko.”
That’s what she signs—with a straight face, I might add.
Did she just say I’m not worth it? Me? Landon fucking King?
Nikolai obviously disagrees and definitely thinks—like everyone else who isn’t Mia—that I’m well worth it since he raises his fist again.
Killian subtly pulls Glyn from the middle of the action so that she’s once again in his overrated protective cocoon.
“Time out.” I lift a hand in front of Nikolai. “Before you proceed with your attempts at rearranging my features, allow me to clarify an important element. I happen to be in the process of courting your sister, and any attempts at ruining my face will not play in the favor of said task.”
Everyone is stunned into silence, including Nikolai, whose fist remains suspended in midair. I like to call this the Landon effect—quite powerful and pleasing to watch.
Mia is the first one who recovers and graces me with the glare of all glares; lips pursed and eyes blazing with fire.
She’s the holiest view I’ve ever stumbled across, and I’m not a religious person by any stretch of the imagination.
“I’m going to fucking kill you before you lay a hand on her.” Nikolai flings forward.
“Oh, that’s already done.”
Another pause.
Another myriad of beautiful, stupefied expressions that are a product of my words.
“What the fuck did you just say?” This time, Nikolai has enough patience to speak slowly.
“I said.” I close the distance between us so we’re eye to eye. “The touching part already happened. In fact, our rendezvous included more than touching, but I’ll spare you the details since you’re her brother.”
“You fucking—” He pushes into me and I’m about to let him pummel me to the ground for Mia’s difficult sake, but Bran moves in front of me and takes the punch.
My brother staggers back and falls against my chest.
The change of events is so fast-paced that everyone takes some time to come to terms with the new variable in the equation.
My idiotic fucking brother.
I grab him by the arm so that he doesn’t fall sideways and inspect the cut on his lower lip and the blood that’s gushing from it.
The motherfucker who would be dead if he didn’t have a blood relationship with Mia got him good. Bran shakes his head a few times as if he’s fighting a concussion. While I’m fine with violence and do strive for it whenever possible, Bran is literally squeamish about blood.
I pull out a tissue and help him wipe the shit off his lip as he struggles to remain standing.
Nikolai doesn’t move, his jaw ticking and his muscles tightening until the veins bulge. Killian, Jeremy, and Mia pull him back and, unlike what I expect, he doesn’t fight it.
Instead, he points his glare at his sister. “Is it true?”
She freezes, and any attempts to calm her brother down come to a staggering halt.
“Is what the fucker said true, Mia?” he asks again, his voice filled with enough tension to start a nuclear war. “Have you been sleeping with him?”
An expression I’ve never seen on Mia’s face greets me. An expression I now realize I don’t ever want to see on her delicate features again.
Shame.
First, I’m not worth it.
Now, she’s fucking ashamed of me.
She slides her gaze to me, and even though I’ve been busy trying to stop the bleeding on Bran’s fucked-up lip, I meet the eyes that have been haunting my every waking moment.
Go ahead and lie, Mia. Go ahead and deny yourself and pretend it’s all a fucking illusion.
“It’s not what you think,” she signs.
“And what does he think?” I slap the tissue against Bran’s mouth and shove his hand on it, then step in front of him so that I’m facing Mia.
“You shut up.” Her movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and hint at a complete loss of control.
Good.
Maybe this way, she’ll be able to understand the frustration of being cast aside and discarded like a used condom.
“I’m happy to shut up, but only if you tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”
Liquid eyes the color of a stormy sea glare me down as if I’m the next target on her hit list.
“What is he talking about?” It’s Killian who asks this time, his expression darkening.
Considering his pseudo-brother relationship with Mia, his distress brings me great satisfaction. How does it feel to walk in my shoes, motherfucker?
Mia glares at me again before she signs, “It was just a ruse that meant nothing. It’s all over now.”
I’m going to choke the little shit to fucking death.
But then, in the still-functioning logical part of my brain, I realize she’s saying all these demeaning things on purpose.