Page 59 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
If anyone was going to throw daggers at Everinne, it would be him.
“Suit yourself.” The male shrugged, then paced across the floor back to the wheel. He reached up, grabbed one of the notches, and yanked it down hard.
The wheel started to spin, and Everinne became a blur of sapphire and diamonds. Her absurd laughter caused his ears to ring with panic.
Fuck, he was really going to do this.
“Five daggers,” the male called out, then stepped away from the wheel. “Fire at will.”
Atlas grabbed the first dagger, raising the weapon, poised to strike. He gripped the leather-wrapped hilt in his damp palm, clutching it tightly, watching as the wheel spun and the divide between her body and the slabs of wood became indistinct, more difficult to discern. He tuned out the obnoxious thunking noise the wheel made with each rotation, focusing instead on his breathing. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Since his youth, he’d been trained to fight with both dagger and sword. To never miss. To aim true. His chest hollowed out, his blood cooled. He stared at the spinning wheel, finding his mark on the wood to spare Everinne’s flesh.
He calmed his racing heart, pulled his arm back, tracked her gasping breath of air, and threw the dagger.
Thud.
Drowning out the sound of Everinne’s wild laughter and squeals, he pinpointed her heartbeat, the rush of her breath, then repeated the process. Launching the daggers at the wheel, praying to the gods he hit his mark.
Each time, the dagger stuck deep into the wood.
The wheel started to slow, creaking and grinding. Turquoise eyes found him as he threw the last dagger toward her, striking the wood next to Everinne’s head. Her cheeks were flushed, her smile more brilliant than he’d seen it in years, and all because the thrill of danger, of peril, was the one thing that made her feel alive.
His relief bled away, fueling his anger.
Atlas strode to the wheel and unhooked the leather straps binding her ankles, wrists, and waist to its worn surface. Her ragged, uneven breathing made him grit his teeth as she toppled, half dizzy and delirious, into his arms.
“See?” She beamed up at him. “I told you it would be fun.”
“Shut the fuck up, Everinne.” Atlas scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
She fought him the whole way, kicking violently and thrashing in his hold. The words that fell from her mouth…he’d never heard such sordidly vile things. But he didn’t let her go, despite her vicious protests and cruel threats. Her fists pounded against his back, certain to leave bruises, but he was sick of her shit. So, he smacked her ass once—hard—and smiled with his own kind of wicked satisfaction when she yelped and fell silent.
He strode toward the exit of the Mystic Obscura with her in tow, not caring about the onlookers who gaped and whispered as he passed.
Let them talk.
Atlas tossed her onto the back of hisvolt, glamoured her helmet and secured it snugly, then climbed on, adjusting his own helmet. He didn’t even wait for her to wrap her arms around his waist. If she wanted to be so damned stubborn, then she’d learn the hard way what would happen if she chose not to hold on to him. Firing the engine, he revved it fast, sending bolts of blue fire streaming out the backend of the vehicle, then gunned it.
Everinne shrieked, her high-pitched scream barely audible over the blaring thrum of arcane magic. She threw her arms around him, clutching him, sinking her nails into his abdomen like the assault was some kind of vengeance.
All it did was send a spiral of arousal pumping through his blood.
He sped through the city, flying past buildings, shops, and parlors in a blinding blur of color. He steered thevoltup the winding roads on the outskirts of the city until the gilded lights of Starysa were nothing more than twinkling lights in the distance. The overlook appeared before him, crowned in starlight, the beauty of the Ladova Bay stretching out in an endless sea of deep sapphire from the edge of the docks to the horizon beyond. Here, there was nothing but the chilling kiss of the wind, the gentle rustle of trees, and the soft crash of waves.The air was crisp, tangy with sea spray, and it soothed the irritation coursing through him.
Atlas dropped the kickstand of thevoltand reached around behind him. He grabbed Everinne’s thigh and waist, dragging her around to the front so she sat propped on his lap, straddling him. Goosebumps riddled her flesh, and he yanked off his coat, draping it around her bare shoulders. He flipped up his visor, then lifted hers as well, only to find a pair of turquoise eyes radiating with wrath, the gold around the center burning with the flame of a thousand suns.
“Don’t ever,” he sucked in a sharp, rasping breath, “make me do something like that again.”
“I didn’t make youdoanything.” She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You could’ve let someone else throw the stupid daggers.”
He rolled his neck in vexation, working out the kinks riddling his nerves like tightly coiled springs of tension. “As if I would.”
“Oh right, because goddess forbid I do something fun without you or Veros rushing in to rescue me.” She scooted closer, inadvertently dragging her legs up the sides of his thighs. “Well, guess what, Your Radiance? I don’t need saving.”
“It was dangerous, Everinne!” He planted his hands on her waist, desperately trying not to shake some sense into her. “What if I had missed?”
“But you didn’t,” she countered.
“Gods,” he groaned, tilting his head up to the blanket of night sky. “You’re so fucking infuriating.”
