Page 152 of God of Ruin


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Shit.

“First, you let someone else touch you, then you do a flimsy job of hiding it with a scarf, and now, you’re trying to do it with your hand?” His voice darkens with every word. “Do you honestly believe you can protect the hickey from me?”

I shake my head.

I’m not trying to protect it. And yes, maybe a part of me believes what that asshole Rory said about how Landon stops being interested when someone else touches what’s his.

That possibility leaves me inexplicably on the edge. I tried to purge Landon out of my life, but that was a joke.

I seriously don’t know how I’d be able to go on without his craziness in my life anymore.

And that’s a scary thought that I don’t even like to consider.

“Drop your hand,” he orders with a tone that could accidentally cut someone—that someone being me.

I shake my head.

Maybe if he doesn’t look at it, his anger will dissipate—

In a fraction of a second, Landon grabs my wrist and forces it down.

His lips purse in a disapproving line and his eyes become two black holes that look like they’re straight out of hell.

Sweat beads on my spine and temples as I slowly break under the suffocating tension he commands with his eyes alone.

“Seems that you’ve forgotten who’s the only one you belong to and could use a reminder.” And with that, he leans down and bites on the hickey.

Hard.

Like a bloodthirsty vampire.

32

MIA

Pain explodes on the assaulted spot in my neck and spreads throughout my body like lethal wildfire.

However, I remain stunted in place.

Unable to move.

Unable to concentrate on anything but the feel of his lips on my battered skin and the fiery emotions only Landon can trigger inside me.

I should probably tell him I didn’t want Rory to touch me nor did I let him, really, but I can’t.

My whole body seems to have lost its functions and I’m seeping into a seamless, weightless reality where I can only exist in the moment.

Landon sucks on the skin with power that nearly empties my soul through my throat. It’s punishing, hard, and entirely cruel.

It’s also a fucked-up connection I didn’t realize we could establish. A liaison through searing pain and insatiable rage.

He finally pushes back, leaving a throbbing, tingling mess where his teeth were.

Blood coats his lips, enforcing the image that he’s a vampire who just finished feasting. On my blood.

His eyes plunge into mine, darker and completely hollow in their depths.

Only, Landon is no longer hollow. I don’t know when I started seeing him as more than the emptiness that lurks inside him and his need for anarchy, but I unfortunately do.

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