Page 46 of Who Owns You?

I storm from the nest and head toward my bedroom. The door to the armory is open a crack as I pass, but I don’t linger. The last thing I need right now is to accidentally snap at her because Atlas got me all riled up.

Stomping into my room, I slam the door and slide the lock into place. The room is a mess, unlike the way I like to keep the rest of the house. This space is a piece of the deepest recesses of my mind, so in here, things can be wherever the hell I want them. I toss the basket down beside the door and pick up theblanket I had been working on the day Charlotte arrived. It makes me think back to the conversation with Marcus and how he chose a blanket over a scarf. Maybe it was supposed to be for her.

ATLAS

I swore I would never share breath with a witch again, yet there I was, with a witch in my face, practically tasting the magic rolling off her skin.

I press my lips together after a moment and hold my breath.

The sensation of her hovering over me makes my entire body tingle, like a million fire ants biting into my flesh all at once. I may be stone, but even I have had the occasional flesh-side accident, and she feels like that but a million times worse.

Gods she is so much fucking worse than anything I could have ever imagined and so fucking perfect it makes me ache. She left me here on the floor, just staring at the ceiling. Marcus is still here in the nest that I’ve sullied, glaring at me. I can feel the air of his judgment and do my best to focus on that instead. It hurts to be near her, but it’s agony to be any distance away.

Finally, I release a breath, and Marcus snorts.

“We don’t need to breathe. That’s not very impressive.” He scoots over to sit beside me.

Too many words are swirling around in my mind to string the perfect ones together into a sentence to tell him to fuck off. So I don’t. The ceiling is the only thing that makes sense at the moment. It’s high above me, the ancient wood beams still sturdy and strong from our years of care. They won’t change on me. Theceiling beams will stay the same as they have for hundreds of years.

“I can tell you like her,” Marcus says, and my entire chest constricts.

A wheeze of air rushes from my deflated lungs, and he laughs.

“You think you can hide behind all that brooding, but we’re nest-mates, man. I can see through you in a way no one else can,” he adds with a far too chipper demeanor. “You like Charlotte, and it scares the shit out of you because you haven’t had the best experiences with witches, especially strange ones.”

“You don’t know anything about my experience with witches.” The words come out in a defensive hiss, more reflex than intention.

“I do so.” Marcus scoffs. “I know you were made by a witch who abandoned you, and ever since, you haven’t trusted a single witch we haven’t vetted with about a hundred years of time first.” He then flops down beside me, looking at the same beams that make up the ceiling.

“I don’t have to trust witches,” I grumble, finally letting my eyes shut.

The pain of the memories Marcus just pulled to the surface rushes to the forefront of my mind. If only it had just been abandonment.

“The pest has gotten you all twisted in knots, Marcus. We can’t trust her.”

“And why not?” he asks with a petulant little cluck of his tongue. “She’s sweet, sexy as hell, and she’s been painting us nonstop.”

“That doesn’t make her case any better.” I furrow my brows as I imagine it. Paintings of all of us in her little art room, my old armory, and something like elation rolls through me. I bite hard at my cheek, not letting the emotion show on my face.

“You should ask her to see them, Atlas. They’re incredible. She did this one of my smile, and I just like…Well, I didn’t think my smile was anything special beforehand, but seeing myself through her eyes—” His words are cut off by a dreamy sigh that makes my whole body heave up off the floor.

“I’ll think about it after the sun has exploded,” I huff. Yanking up the blankets I’d been lounging on, I move around the room and pick up every bit of linen I can fit into my arms.

“Or you could stop being so moody and just get to know her. She said she wasn’t leaving, and both Julius and I plan to court her. I think Darius might be planning to as well,” Marcus says as he folds his arms behind his head and smiles widely.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan.

“Nope.”

“She’s got Darius thinking with his dick now too?” The question is harsh, but everything about that witch makes me want to start thinking with my dick too.

She is incredibly thick all over and so fucking soft. Her body hovering over mine was a test of my willpower to the highest degree. I wouldn’t do a thing without her consent, but I have a feeling she would have given in if she’d felt my hard body pressed tighter to hers.

A soft, shuddering breath escapes me as Marcus stands and gathers the rest of the blankets I can’t carry.

“I’ll help you bring these down to the basement.” He flicks his eyes around the room in one final check for any missing linens.

“Thanks.”

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