Page 51 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“Everinne?” he called out softly so as to not startle her. “Everinne, where are you?”
He was met with no response.
Carefully, he closed the door behind him and ventured further into her home. He inhaled deeply, breathing through the heady fragrance of her magic, searching for the scent ofher. He caught the faintest traces of warm caramel, rose, and black currant drifting from the back of the apartment.
Her room.
She was in her room.
Atlas moved carefully through her space, but in her bedroom, the strength of her magic seemed to magnify. He reached out blindly, feeling the cool touch of her power as it threaded between his fingers.
“Everinne?” He took another step when something purple glittered on the floorboards, catching his eye.
An amethyst ring.
Everinne’s amethyst ring.
The one she always wore, still on her limp, outstretched hand.
“Shit!” Atlas rushed to her side, dropping onto his knees next to her. “Ever? Can you hear me?”
He smoothed back some strands of tangled hair from her face, cupping her cheeks with both of his hands, and turned her head toward him. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted, but he thanked the gods that her skin was still warm to the touch. He watched as her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths, felt the steady beating of her pulse in his own veins.
“Everinne, wake up.” He brushed his thumb lightly back and forth across her jaw. “I need you to wake up now.”
Still, she remained motionless.
Atlas raked a hand through his hair as uncertainty edged him toward desperation. There was only one thing he could do and know without a doubt it would work. He could only hope she’d be able to forgive him.
Gathering her into his arms, he gently nudged her sweater out of the way and placed his palm over her heart. He calmed his mind and summoned his magic, closing his eyes as it flowed from him and into her. Warmth ebbed and flowed between them, like the lulling waves of the sea always returning to kiss the shore. His blood heated as his magic tenderly caressed her soul, seeking the source of her power. Of her pain.
On a sharp inhale, he ventured into her mind, sliding into her dreams.
It was far quieter than he expected. There were no chaotic thoughts or broken sobs of anguish. Instead, he was greeted with a kind of melancholy, an almost unnatural stillness. But it was dark, a vast swath of endless pitch. Her magic pressed in on his own, surrounding him, almost curious in nature. Ribbons of midnight and violet twirled around fibers of emerald andgold—the origin of his power—weaving an intricate tapestry of pleasure and pain.
Through the delicate balance, a pair of turquoise eyes found his own.
Relief flooded him when he saw her, his breath catching as her fingers softly grazed the blend of colors and magic spanning between them.
“There you are.” He took one guarded step toward her.
“Atlas?” Everinne’s voice was almost ethereal, his name a song that fell from her lips. “What are you doing here?”
He kept his movements slow and methodical. He couldn’t risk scaring her, not when he almost had her within his reach. “I came for you.”
She stared at him, lightly brushing the fibers of his power between her thumb and forefinger.
He shuddered in spite of himself.
When she didn’t respond, he took another step. Close. He was so close to her now. “I’m here to bring you back.”
“Back,” she repeated, her forehead scrunching as though she didn’t understand his intent.
“Yes.” One more step. One more breath. “To bring you back home. With me.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Atlas. It’s dangerous.” Everinne shook her head, her dark brown waves tumbling around her bare shoulders. Sadness haunted her gaze and she sighed. “I’m dangerous.”
No.
