Page 67 of Flame and Fury

I cock my head. “Were you just standing out here waiting for me to finish?”

Atlas reigns in his surprise with a blink and his face returns to his normal emotionless one. “You’ve been in there a while. I was worried you fell and hit your head.”

I hum, “Sure.”

We’re hovering in the doorway, one foot in, one foot out. Kind of like our relationship, for the lack of a better word. I step into the bedroom, my body brushing against Atlas’s. Something snaps, the ice shattering from his gaze, revealing an inferno of need.

Atlas steps into me. I could shove him out of the way, or stay still, but I let him move my body until my back hits the wall. He crowds me, and I should hate it. But I don’t. His scent surrounds me. It’s combined with the dust and sweat of a long fucking day. A normal person would be grossed out, but gods, he still smells incredible.

His fingers hover over the brand on my chest. It's only just visible over the neck of my tank top. Atlas’s brows are pulled together, raw pain in his eyes when he lifts them to look at me. It cracks me open. Some instinct drives me to clasp his hand, pulling it against my chest to cover the scar.

“I’ll kill him,” Atlas growls.

“Get in line. It’ll heal and be gone before Nathaniel hatches his next dastardly plan.”

“He never should have gotten this close to you. Never should have touched you.” Atlas snarls, and I feel the words in my bones.

“Technically, it was one of his henchmen. And he got what’s coming to him. Nathaniel’s next,” I vow, even though that’s not something I can promise.

Atlas drops his forehead to mine, his breathing ragged. My heart kicks up to insane levels.

“Why do you care?” I attempt to sound authoritative, but that’s completely ruined when the question comes out in a breathy rush. “Is it because I’m an asset? For the Underground? Because this won’t affect my ability to put the gods to sleep.”

Atlas lifts his head to look me in the eye. The question hangs between us for an eternal beat before Atlas speaks. “I know I’m not an easy person to get to know. I’ve spent my whole life pretending. I was punished for showing emotions, as though it were a weakness. I had to pretend to feel nothing. To love nothing. My father and Hera used anything I cared about to punish me. And so, nothing and no one could be important.” Atlas laughs humorlessly and shakes his head.

“Listen, I never claimed to be the poster girl for good mental health. And talk about keeping secrets, I’ve spent my entire life hiding my true nature. I get it. What I don’t understand is what you want from me?” I whisper, fear mounting the more I expose myself.

I can’t believe I just went ahead and said that. And did I just ask Atlas Morrison, the son of my enemy Zeus, what’s going on between us?

“I just want you.” Atlas’s voice is rough, heavy with more emotion than I’ve seen from him ever. His hands are on my hips. The tips of his fingers find their way beneath the hem of my shirt and press into my bare skin.

I want to believe him so badly, but it’s not in my nature to forgive and forget.

“What if I’m not the answer the Underground wants me to be? What if I can’t do a damn thing to help the people of this territory? You want the myth of what a Fury can do, but I don’t know if I’m capable of that.”

Atlas’s head jerks back, his stubborn jaw ticking. “Do you think that’s what this is about? What you can do for the Underground?”

I shrug, confused by his anger.

Atlas drags a hand through his hair and takes a step back. I stay flush with the wall, my knees a little weak.

“I know I’m supposed to think about you as an asset. As a tool that can help free us from the oppression of Zeus and Hera, of Nathaniel, and all the dirty clerics. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Wren. Not the Fury. Your neighborhood wouldn’t stop talking about the Dark Hand and everyone you helped. Which I have a feeling you’d be doing even if you weren't a Fury. Because you care about people. You can’t let the world burn down around you and do nothing. That’s not who you are.” Atlas has both hands on his head. His biceps are flexed and he’s so damn beautiful. His head snaps back to me, and he looks at every inch of me from my toes to the top of my head. “And when I touch you. There’s nothing else in this world that feels so right.”

Atlas drops his hands and closes the distance between us. His body presses against mine. He lowers his head, his mouth grazing my ear. “My heart fucking sings when you’re near. And yes, I hear how ridiculous that sounds, but you are so much more to me than the means to an end, little bird.”

My heart hammers in my chest. There’s a ringing in my ears. I’m drowning in the feel of Atlas’s nearness. His scent, the heat from his body, the press of all those powerful muscles against me. Atlas isn’t just golden looks and a seemingly cold persona. He’s the man who took a bullet for me, who risked his life and the wrath of his father to rescue me from Nathaniel’s house. It doesn’t matter that I was already escaping.

I don’t know what we are, but I know I want him in my life. I know he turns my world upside down and a genuine smile from him feels like being touched by sunlight.

Atlas lifts his head, his hazel eyes searching my face. It surprises me to see uncertainty there. This whole time I’ve felt as though Atlas has had the upper hand. I’ve been tripping over my feelings, and he’s been using me for the Underground. But what if he really does care for me? What if I’m not the only one who craves to be touched?

“Wren,” Atlas murmurs my name. It’s half plea, half question.

I grab the nape of his neck and tug his head down, pulling him into a kiss. Atlas groans as our lips collide and then he kisses me like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. It’s raw and dirty and I’ve never wanted anything more.

Atlas’s hands splay across my back, dragging my body closer to his, molding me to him. I moan as he pushes me against the wall. Fisting his shirt, I drag him in closer before breaking the kiss so I can shove the damn thing over his head. Atlas wordlessly obeys, lifting his hands and helping me when I can’t reach any higher.

Then his hands are tangled in my hair. He tugs my head back and then he kisses me again. Suddenly I have too many clothes on. I want to feel his bare skin against mine. I tear off my tank top, my breathing heavy when our lips part. I didn’t put on a bra so I’m only wearing a pair of shorts.

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