Page 87 of Flame and Fury

WREN

After my encounter with Kat, I head back toward the room where I showered earlier. It’s as good a place as any to crash.

The room is utilitarian but clean. The walls are a smokey gray and bare of any art. There’s a full-sized bed that sits low to the ground. The only other piece of furniture is a dresser with a mirror hanging above it. I kick off my pants and flop down on top of the blue comforter. It’s too hot to get under the blankets, even with the air conditioning running. Or maybe it’s my boiling irritation that’s got me feeling so heated.

I didn’t bother turning on the lights when I came into the room. There are blackout curtains on the windows, so any hint of lights from the street is completely blocked out. Good, I want to wallow in the darkness. My Fury is restless, urging me to get up, go back downstairs, and shove Savannah’s face into the couch cushion until she promises not to touch Atlas again.

How the hell did this happen? All I ever wanted was a simple life. I was comfortable in my job, serving beer at Jerry’s bar. I was helping my neighborhood stay safe. I never asked for more than that. I lower my arm, letting my fingers drift over my mother’s necklace, and then lower to the brand that’s still raised on my chest.

Fuck.

Maybe I was more dissatisfied than I want to admit. I was caught in the routine of Jerry’s, patrolling as the Dark Hand, sitting in my tiny apartment by myself, rinse and repeat. I didn’t have any friends. My only living family member was in hiding, and no one knew the truth about who I am. I was miserable and lonely and too damn proud to admit it.

Since the games started, I’ve made new friends who now know my secret, and I have an actual purpose. I have the chance to help more than the people of my old neighborhood. And yet, imagining Savannah downstairs, her hand probably back on Atlas’s thigh and inching higher each minute, I’m still miserable.

I roll over and plant my face in a fluffy pillow with a groan.

The bed sinks, and a hand slides up my calf. As I see it, I have two choices. I can keep my face in this pillow and smother myself, or I can roll over. Rolling over sounds like too much work. Smothering it is.

Atlas’s hands wrap around my hips. He pulls me toward the edge of the bed and flips me over.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” I glare at him.

“Why are you pouting up here?”

A low, annoyed sound rumbles in my throat. “I'm not pouting.” I’m too old for that shit.

Atlas runs his hands up my legs, over my waist, and then plants them by my head to hold his weight. He’s caging me in with his body, but he’s also firmly pressed between my thighs.

“Fine, why are you lying face down in the dark.”

“I was ready to go to sleep.”

“Wren.” The teasing is gone from Atlas’s voice. “Talk to me, little bird.”

I groan and cover my face with my hands. “I’m just having an existential crisis.” I sigh. “It’s embarrassing.”

Atlas peels my fingers away from my face. It’s not like we can see each other in the dark, but it makes the moment more intimate.

“I know we had a rocky start. I know I lied to you, but I’ve been trying to make up for that. You can rely on me. I’m not some piece of shit who’s just using you for what you can do.” Atlas's body is pressed almost flush against mine. It would be so easy to rock my hips and tear off his clothes to avoid this conversation. It’s really hard not to do that, especially because the weight of him feels so good; his scent, the heat from his body, it’s all an addiction.

“You’re just using me for sex then?” I joke because all of a sudden, this is serious.

“I don’t need to use you for sex,” Atlas growls.

“Because Savannah will get down on her knees for you whenever you want?” I snap.Gods, why did I say that?

Atlas stills; even his breaths stop. “Are you jealous?”

“What? No. Why would I be jealous?” I scoff, but my heart is hammering in my chest. Atlas and I might have chemistry off the charts, a shared goal, and a weird bond from being in the games together, but he’s known Savannah for way longer than me. What if I’m just some passing distraction?

Atlas drops his head, his nose nuzzling just under my ear. His lips drag up my neck before stopping at my ear, and my body involuntarily arches.

“I have never wanted Savannah. Never ached to touch her. She’s never made me lose my mind or forget that I’m in a dangerous situation because all I can focus on is kissing her. She doesn’t challenge me at every turn, and she doesn’t make my heart race whenever I see her. She’s a friend, and that’s it.”

I lick my lips, my breathing rapid. “It’s Drake, right? He makes your heart go pitter-patter.”

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