Page 26 of Flame and Fury

I mop up some ketchup on my plate, sadly with my last fry. “That would be great, thank you.”

Atlas stands and collects our plates, but Sylvie reaches for them. She glares when he offers to take them back to the kitchen and he obediently hands the dishes over. When Sylvie comes out from the kitchen, she gestures for us to follow her to the back of the bar. There’s a door in the back hallway, and she unlocks it, opening it to reveal a set of stairs going up.

She stops on the first-floor landing, unlocking another door and waving us through. There are four doors in the dimly lit hall, two on either side. Atlas and I follow Sylvie to the last door on the right. The walls need a fresh coat of paint, and a few light bulbs are on the brink of burning out.

“The place is clean. We often get visitors who crash here for the night,” Sylvie says as she unlocks another door. I imagine by“we,”she means the Boar has friends who occasionally crash up here.

Sylvie flicks on the lights as soon as she walks inside. Atlas pushes his way in front of me again. I don’t know if he thinks Sylvie’s going to turn around and take a shot at us, but I’ll let him do his macho protective thing if it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

My feet barely cross the threshold and I freeze in place. When Sylvie said apartment, I was imagining something with a couch and maybe a little kitchen area, a separate bedroom, and a bathroom. That’s not what’s happening here. This is a studio the size of a postage stamp. There’s a queen size bed that takes up a good majority of the room. Against one wall is the kitchen, which is just a short counter with the sink, a small fridge, and a few cupboards.

Atlas and I press our bodies against the wall so Sylvie can walk past and open a door that barely clears the bed.

“This is the bathroom. The hot water runs out fast, so I would recommend a short shower. There are new toothbrushes under the sink and some spare sweats in the closet.” Sylvie twists the knob on a door to the right of the bathroom, revealing a small closet.

“Get some rest. I can come get you in the morning after the storm passes. Ragers like this usually last about twelve hours. If you need anything else, I’m just down the hall.” I step to the side so Sylvie can leave the apartment. She exits with the same brisk, business-like attitude that she’s handled everything so far. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me and Atlas alone in the tiny room.

I’m standing just inside of the door. Atlas is taking up pretty much all the space in the tiny kitchen area.

“You can shower first if you want.” He jerks his head toward the bathroom.

It’s late and my belly is full. Honestly, a shower and getting a good night's sleep sounds incredible. I eye the bed and then the slice of floor between it and the kitchen. That looks like a cozy spot for Atlas to sleep. I take off my coat and hang it on the hook on the back of the door.

There’s a weird dynamic at play between me and Atlas right now, and I don’t know how to deal with it. We haven’t had a chance to speak since he and Kat kidnapped me. Our conversation downstairs is the most we’ve talked about anything that didn’t have to do with the Underground or the fate of the world. I’m not asking him what’s going on between us now though.

I bend over to untie my boots, watching Atlas through the damp strands of my hair. His eyes are very clearly on my ass. With my boots drying in the corner, I make my way over to the bathroom, stopping to grab a pair of sweats on my way.

“I won’t be long.”

Just as I’m about to shut the bathroom door, Atlas calls out, “Wren.”

The door is cracked a few inches, and I stick my head back out to stare at him. He opens his mouth, and then snaps it shut with a shake of his head.

“It’s not important. Take a shower.” Atlas gives me his back, walking over to the door and flicking the lock.

I’m tempted to take a long shower, but I’m not that big of a jerk. No one wants to take a cold shower when there’s a blizzard outside. I hurry through washing and hurry to pull on the clothes when I get out. The bathroom is steamy, but the tile floor is freezing. The sweats are made for a much taller person and flop over my feet. And yet they’re too tight across my ass. The sweatshirt is long enough that I would just sleep in it if I had any clean underwear. Then again, it’s cold enough out that I want layers. The tiny apartment is heated, but the wind is blowing so hard outside I swear it’s seeping in through every crack in the building, leaving a chill that’s impossible to combat.

Atlas eyes my ensemble as we shimmy past each other, so he can get to the bathroom. “No promises on the hot water,” I call out just as he shuts the door.

“A cold shower’s probably for the best.”

I almost don’t catch his words, but he’s not quiet enough. Heat blooms low in my belly. I flop down on the bed with a huff and mentally berate myself for letting Atlas get to me. The sound of the shower has me imagining water pouring over Atlas’s chiseled muscles, droplets running in channels over his golden skin. His hands drifting over his body, down his abs, until he’s wrapping his hand around his–

I sit up with a groan and drag my hand down my face. Steam pours out behind Atlas when the bathroom door opens. Apparently, he didn’t take a cold shower. Also, he must be impervious to the cold because he’s shirtless. He’s thrown on a pair of sweats that match mine, although his are too short, and a little tight in the crotch.

I’m sitting on the side of the bed farthest from the bathroom. I haven’t gotten under the covers even though my feet are freezing. For some reason, I felt like I needed to wait until Atlas was done in the bathroom to discuss our sleeping arrangements for the night first.

As though he can read my mind, Atlas pins me with his cold stare. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“This isn’t some romance novel where we have to share one bed. You can sleep on the floor.” I toss a pillow at him and get ready to pull off a layer of the blankets.

“It’s freezing.” Atlas tosses the pillow back on the bed and puts his hands on his hips. His too small sweatpants are low on his hips and good gods, it’s doing things to my willpower.

“That’s what the blanket’s for.”

“We can be adults.”

“I’ve read this book. We fall asleep with a pillow fort between us, and I wake up with your boner nudging my ass.” I finally get the top blanket off the bed. It’s a little thin for how cold it is, but he can put on a sweatshirt.