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God of Ruin: Chapter 19


The asshole is out for blood.

There’s no other civil way to describe whatever the hell is going on in the psycho’s head.

He’s the most unpredictable, lethal person I’ve ever come across, and that might or might not include the monster from my past.

And this is coming from me, who was literally raised within the New York Russian mafia.

Landon is downright insane, but I’m not entirely sane either, because I’m baiting him. I’m flaunting my tail in the same provocative language he speaks, waiting—no, needing him to come after me.

Chase me.

Inject my veins with that shot of ecstasy only he can provide.

I drive at full speed down the empty streets. Lights blur in my peripheral vision, adding a mystic vibe to the dangerous night. For more reasons than one.

My nostrils flare at the image of Landon attempting to kiss Cecily.

We have a date. That’s what he said, even though he doesn’t do those, even if he were held at gunpoint. He prefers the thrill of the unknown, the intensity, and sexual preferences that are socially frowned upon.

He’s all about the carnal and never about the emotions.

But then again, Cecily is soft and posh. His childhood friend, no less. He probably wouldn’t touch her crudely and whisper filthy words as he fucked her mouth.

He wouldn’t strip her down and build her back up again just so he could do it all over again.

A black car appears in my rearview mirror, looking larger than a vengeful crow.

I hit the accelerator as hard as possible, but while I love my Mercedes SUV, it doesn’t compare to the power of a sports McLaren.

Landon catches up to me in seconds and slows to my speed as he drives parallel to me. We’re definitely not on a one-way road.

I look at him with a “What the fuck are you doing?” gaze.

“Chasing you, muse.” His grin could only belong to Satan himself.

I release the accelerator, letting myself fall behind, but he does the same, so I hit it again and speed up all of a sudden until my body glues to the seat.

Once again, Landon keeps my pace, still smirking with unmasked sadism. I’ve come to recognize that look as savage lust. It’s the look he sports whenever he chases me or chokes me to within an inch of my life.

My thighs clench, and I blame it on muscle memory. It can’t be anything else. I refuse to believe it is.

Headlights flash on the other side of the road, as in, the side that Landon shouldn’t be driving on.

I glance at him.



“Move!” I sign with one hand.

He doesn’t.

What the hell? Is he really planning to kill himself?

“The ball’s in your court.”

“What?” I sign with one hand.

“My decision will depend on where you drive. Here’s a hint, go to where you were supposed to be yesterday!” he shouts over the blaring honks of the other car.

I do the “Okay” sign with a trembling finger. Right in the nick of time, he hits the brakes and swerves back behind me.

My forehead and back break out in a sweat, my fingers shake on the steering wheel, and my foot is unsteady on the brakes as I lower my speed.

I can’t for the life of me drive normally when my whole body is in a state of shock, but I do the best I can, and Landon follows me, not attempting to overtake me or ride beside me.

As soon as I arrive in front of the haunted house, I’m surprised by the lights illuminating the hideous garden with snake-like leaves and ghost trees that have fallen to their imminent death. But then I catch a glimpse of my newly planted flower beds, still alive and slowly growing compared to the last time I saw them.

They’re the only thing I missed about this place.

Or are they?

I step out of the car on shaky legs. Landon takes his time to climb out of his stupid McLaren, his demeanor detached at best.

I get in his face and sign wildly, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Bringing you back where you belong.” He slowly and leisurely removes the mask from around his neck and slides his fingers across the golden decoration. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this stage if you weren’t playing a pointless episode of cat and mouse.”

I shove at his chest with all my might. “My choice to come here or not is mine, not yours or anyone else’s.”

Strong fingers wrap around my elbow and he tugs so that I fall against his chiseled chest muscles. “Your choice ended the moment you walked into my life. Your thoughts, your temper, and the very marrow of your existence belong to me now.”

I shake my head vehemently.

“Denying the truth doesn’t make it any less viable. I advise you to get used to my role in your life, because it won’t disappear anytime soon.”

I punch him across the chest. A rumble rips from deep within him and he imprisons my hand, then crushes it so the fist is flattened against his pectoral muscle.

“Don’t. Your adorable fight turns me on, and that’s not a wise idea when I’m already bursting with unfulfilled energy.” He releases me and steps back. “Now, do as you promised. Run.”

“Go chase one of your other girls,” I sign with more energy than needed. “I’m too special to be lumped in with your side pieces.”

There, I said it.

Finally. The words I’ve been thinking about for days are out in the open. The ache I felt when I overheard him with that Nila. The absolute rage and pain I experienced when I saw him on the verge of kissing Cecily.

I wasn’t even supposed to be there, but one of Jeremy’s men called and told him that Landon was with Cecily. Jeremy had this terrifying expression when he left. My anger must’ve matched his when I hopped in my car and followed along.

An inexplicable urge flows through me. A rush that’s impossible to shake off or ignore.

And it goes by the name of Landon freaking King.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve been avoiding him. I’ve been thinking about him and his texts and his damn presence every second.

This is what it feels like to be addicted, doesn’t it?

But no matter how attracted I am to the slimy bastard, I’d cut off my own legs before I’d let him step all over me.

“Side piece?” He approaches me, his eyes darkening to the color of ravens and crows and expelling the same ominous energy.

He stops in front of me and lifts my chin with his curled forefinger. “I can sleep with anyone on this planet. Hell, I have an extensive repertoire of women begging to suck my cock if I were to so much as look in their direction. But I don’t even acknowledge their existence. These lips are the only lips I want to be wrapped around my cock. This face is the only face I want to be marked with my cum. You think I would put all this effort into someone as difficult as you if you were only a side piece?”

“You won’t touch anyone but me.” Not a question, but a demand.

And yet he answers, “I won’t.”

Simply. Without any of his infuriating conditions, bets, or ultimatums.

“You won’t touch anyone but me either, or we’ll have a very serious, very bloody problem.”

“Stop being so psychotic.”

“Stop being so cute.”

My mouth falls open and the skin he touches explodes in a thousand tingles. I sink my teeth into the cushion of my bottom lip in a hopeless attempt to control my reaction.

His weird acceptance of the situation is enough to wash away the doubts I’ve been drowning in for the past few days.

It’s enough to fill my muscles with a foreign need. A need so empowering, it hums beneath the flesh.

Landon leans forward and whispers in dark words against the shell of my ear, “Run, little muse and run as fast you can. Tonight, I’ll fuck all the other cocks out of your memory.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice.

The moment he releases me, I speed inside the house. Despite it being dimly lit, some yellow bulbs cast shadows on the worn-out sofa, the chairs, and the unfinished chess game we were playing the last time I was here.

Landon’s steps ring right behind me, sure and unhurried, as if he knows he will catch me. I quicken my movements and rush to the highest floor. I hop on one of the ruined steps, but a strong grip catches my ankle.

I gasp as I stare behind me.

Landon looks like a devil in the darkness, complete with imaginary horns and a hellfire agenda. “The same trick won’t work twice.”

I try to kick him away, but he tugs me down so hard, I yelp as the world is pulled from underneath me. Before I hit the ground, Landon reaches for my waist, but I slip past his grip and hop away at the last second.

I run down the hall at full speed. Landon’s heavy steps follow me in no time. My heart races and my temperature rises until I’m delirious.

A startled sound leaves my lips when I hear his breathing, but I don’t look back.

Excitement and thrill intertwine and grab me by the throat. Every fiber inside me hums to life the faster I run and the longer I hear the creak of his steps behind me.

I descend the stairs three at a time and skip a few, then hold on to the railing when I nearly fall. I slip into his art studio and hide behind one of his unfinished statues. He stands in front of it.

Our chests rise and fall in a frantic rhythm, but while I’m struggling for breath, Landon has a hand in his pocket.

“Give up, little muse. Your cunt is mine to fuck. Mine to own. The sooner you accept that reality, the better.”

In a flash, I make for the right, then change direction to the left. Landon does the exact same. I release a gleeful sound as he catches a few of my ribbons, pulling them free from my hair.

The statue rattles on its base as I push past it and run to the balcony attached to the studio. I realize my mistake the moment the floor creaks beneath my boots.

I’m trapped.

I turn around to escape in the opposite direction, but Landon’s already blocking the entrance.

He grabs the top chipped frame of the balcony door. His shirt rides up, revealing a hint of his hard abs and the fine hairs perfectly positioned in the middle of his glorious V-line.

His mocking, slightly raspy voice comes from behind me. “Someone is trapped.”

Not yet.

I climb up on the unsteady railing, but before I can jump down from it, I’m greeted by the sight of thorny bushes.

Landon’s scent fills my nostrils and he quickens his steps behind me. I turn around so fast, I lose my footing and fall backward.

A scream bubbles in my throat and I jam my eyes shut.

A strong hand wraps around my waist and warmth flares at the base of my belly at the feeling of a solid body against mine.

I slowly open my eyes and find myself caught by Landon’s soulless eyes.

The reality of my situation clears as slowly as a fog. My upper half is hanging outside and the other half dangles inside the balcony, my feet not touching the ground.

The only thing that’s stopping me from falling and being cut by a thousand thorns is none other than Landon.

My sweaty hands wrap around the metal railing for dear life as my chest rises and falls in irregular intervals.

“A pretty view to welcome me.” Landon slides his free hand along my thighs, stroking, pinching, and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

That’s when I realize my dress has risen up to my middle, revealing my fishnet stockings and my royal blue panties.

“Pull me up,” I try to sign with one hand, then point at him and me.

“You didn’t listen to me when I sent you all those texts. Why should I listen to you?” He glides his hand between my thighs and forces them apart. “Besides, I love the fear and lust in your eyes. It’s making my cock rock fucking hard.”

He’s a sick asshole.

The most dangerous psycho I didn’t know existed, and yet my body hums for what he’s promising.

My temperature rises to an alarming level and all I can do is burn in the intensity of Landon fucking King.

He strokes me roughly over my panties. “You know what I’ll do now?”

I shake my head.

“No? Well, let me clarify it for you. I’m going to fuck you, Mia. Hard. Like you’ve never been fucked before. I won’t go easy on you or stop when it becomes too much. Not even if you’re breaking and shattering to fucking pieces.”

My lips fall open. Why am I…so turned on by that?

He drags me so my upper back rests on the ledge, gathers the material in his hands and rips it so powerfully, my breath hitches. My panties and stockings fall in shreds, some still hanging off me, and the rest scattering on the ground.

I can’t help catching a glimpse of the fading sucking and bite marks he left on my inner thighs the last time he touched me. I might have looked at them in the mirror every day and stroked them every night.

My thoughts fly out the window as his fingers dig into my slippery folds. “Your greedy cunt is so wet for my cock. You’re going to let me use your hole like I used your mouth, aren’t you? You’ll writhe and moan and show me your erotic little face as I pound that defiance out of you, won’t you?”

My only reply is a muffled sound.

He slaps my pussy and my hips jerk. Ferocious tingles spread over my sensitive skin.

Still holding my waist, he makes quick work of unbuckling his pants and pulls out his very hard, very engorged cock. I’ve never seen him this aroused, to the point where the veins are turning purple and angry.

He slams me against him and releases my middle. My legs automatically wrap around his lithe waist so I don’t fall back into the bushes. The soles of my boots sink into the backs of his thighs as the railing digs into my spine.

Landon grabs my thigh and digs the pads of his fingers in the soft, sensitive flesh near my core. “You made the mistake of assuming that there are any other dicks on the table for you. I’ll teach you the valuable lesson that, as long as I breathe, you are only mine to chase. Mine to own. Mine to fuck.”


I want to ask, probe, reach beneath the metal armor that he wears as a sophisticated façade and tear it apart.

I want so much more, but I can’t say anything as he thrusts inside me. Resistance meets him and I sink my teeth in my bottom lip to not shriek.

Landon pulls out a little, then drives back in. “Your cunt is custom-made for me, little muse. Can you feel it choking my cock?”

More resistance greets him and he wraps his fingers around my throat, choking me until all I can see is his face. Looming, overpowering, and in complete control.

“Relax, Mia. It’s not like you’re a virgin.”

My inner walls crack and shatter into a thousand shreds. My lungs burn and my womb contracts in frightening intervals. I choke on a gasp as a warm liquid seeps between my thighs.

Landon’s pace finally slows down as he stares at the space between us. His eyes narrow on what I assume is my blood as his fingers tighten around my throat.

“Either you conveniently got your period now or you lied to me. Which one is it?”

I lift my chin even as the pain sears inside me. I need him to do something to stop this feeling.

“You’re a virgin?” His voice sounds darkened and distorted in my ringing ears.

I sink my nails into his hand that’s around my throat and squeeze.

“Finish what you started, you fucking bastard,” my eyes communicate, and although he can’t possibly understand that, a sadistic light shines on his brutally beautiful face.

In a flash, he gathers me in his arms and I grab onto him as he kicks off his shoes, pants, and boxer briefs.

Then, while still inside me, he walks inside the studio. He does it effortlessly, as if I weigh nothing, his powerful steps eating up the distance in no time.

While carrying me, he pulls down my dress’s zipper and I help him push it over my head, then the bra follows right after.

My nipples brush against his shirt and I suppress a groan of pleasure. Despite the pain throbbing between my legs, I can’t deny the attraction that beats deep inside me.

I’ve never been as turned on in my life as I am in Landon’s embrace.

I’m in a beast’s arms, wearing nothing but torn fishnet stockings and boots, but I feel strangely safe.


Enveloped in a lusty cloud.

Certainly needed.

Landon pushes a huge blank canvas from the corner of the room and lays me on top of it so that he’s hovering over me.

My legs are still wrapped around his thighs, refusing to let him go for some reason. I’ve been thinking so much about this, imagining and playing it in my head that the thought of it going wrong gives me anxiety.

Both his hands wrap around my throat as he thrusts deeper but at an unhurried pace. The sound of his cock smeared with my blood and arousal echoes in the air like an aphrodisiac.

“Bleed for me.” Thrust. “Break for me.” Thrust. “Make me your one and only.”

My thighs tremble and pleasure knots my belly. The pain slowly but surely explodes into a thousand pleasurable sparks.

I hold on to his muscular arms, not so I can remove them but because I need the anchor. Or maybe I want the connection, as heartless as Landon is.

Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine sex would be this tantalizing. Landon dragged out my most animalistic side and stroked it, literally and figuratively.

The harder he chokes, the stronger the flood of my arousal. The deeper his thrusts, the quicker my breath hitches.

My intelligible sounds echo in the air and he rolls his hips, pulls out, then slams back in again. My back arches as my mouth opens and closes soundlessly.

“Your body is a temple for mine, little muse. I love the feel of your pussy when you’re struggling for air. It clenches and milks my cock so tightly. You’re quickly becoming my favorite fuck hole.”

He pulls out again, only his crown staying inside, and then thrusts back in. “You’ll take every last inch, won’t you?”

I don’t know if I’m too demented to ever be cured, but my hips jerk with every thrust. With each look into his cold, empty gaze, I drown deeper.

For a fraction of a second, I think I see some semblance of emotion, but it’s fleeting and soon disappears as if it was never there.

It probably wasn’t.

I’m the one who’s chasing an impossible notion, hoping, even as I’m torn apart by this beast, that there’s a corner in his soul I can reach.

I’m being devoured by a cold, merciless monster and I don’t want it to stop.

My thighs shake and the orgasm washes over me in long bursts. His thrusts turn animalistic, painful, even, but I revel in each and every one.

Landon looks like his favorite Greek statues when he’s coming—an absolutely stunning god, but cold and cryptic.

I’m nothing but a warm hole he’s using for the physical climax.

Just like he’s nothing but a dick I’m using for my own pleasure.

It’s absolutely nothing more, I tell myself even as I feel the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

Landon lifts one hand from my throat and wipes the wetness, then brings it to his lips as he whispers, “You’re becoming a dangerous addiction, little muse.”

And then he comes inside me in long, hot spurts.

I can take being an addiction. After all, that’s what I think about him as well.

A lethal, irreversible addiction that might or might not push me to my downfall.


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