Page 10 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“In a hurry tonight, Everinne?” He released her.
She stumbled backward, and Jarek’s hand darted to the small of her back to keep her from falling. If the demonsummoner wasn’t careful, Atlas would cut off the offending hand one finger at a time.
“Yes, actually.” Everinne slid one finger down Jarek’s chest, then hooked it into the waistband of his pants. Atlas’s jaw clenched. “As a matter of fact, I’m going home with…”
Her voice trailed off and a pretty shade of pink flushed her cheeks.
Atlas arched a mocking brow, then smirked down at her. Ah. So, she didn’t even know the name of the guy who was escorting her out of the Grand Cru.
“Jarek,” the demon summoner supplied for her, not at all embarrassed by her lack of knowledge.
“I would’ve asked,” she ground out, shoving her dark waves back from her face.
“When?” Atlas asked, knowing exactly what to say to rile her up. “Before or after you sleep with him?”
“Fuck off, Atlas,” she spat, swaying lightly.
“I’m taking her home.” Jarek’s voice was low and calm, but there was a hint of challenge reflected in his eyes.
“Like hell you are.” Atlas held Jarek’s stare, daring him to contradict him. Undercurrents of tension throbbed between them, drawing a thick crowd of onlookers. Many of them were partygoers out for a night of fun, drawn in by the spectacle of someone coming to a standoff with their beloved prince. The other half were royal guards, simply waiting for him to give the word.
Everinne barreled forward, poking Atlas in the chest with her finger. “Get out of my way.”
He snared her wrist and leaned forward, ensuring his lips grazed the lobe of her ear, all while keeping his hard gaze trained on Jarek. She went utterly still, her breath hitching. “And what do you think Veros will say when he learns his sister spent thenight with a fucking demon summoner? Do you really want to explain to him how little you care for your own life?”
She turned her head then, her lush mouth suddenly less than a breath away from his own. The apples of her cheeks were still dusted with iridescent glitter, and so was the tip of her nose. He didn’t want to think about where else those sparkly little flecks were hiding. Her turquoise gaze dipped down to where their lips almost touched, then darted back up to his eyes.
“A demon summoner?” A breathy gasp left her and her lashes fluttered. “Perhaps I should let him steal my soul.”
Atlas knew his next barb would strike true. “That would only work if you had a soul worthy to take, Wildheart.”
She made to slap him, but he leaned back, dodging her hand, and she stumbled. Her ankle buckled, and the thin heel of one of her shoes snapped off completely. Everinne yelped, and a fleeting look of pain flashed across her face before she toppled into his arms.
Atlas held her tightly while she pummeled his chest with pathetically weak punches. He could specifically recall a time when one solid punch from her would actually threaten to leave a bruise. But this thrashing about was pitiful. He told himself it was probably just the alcohol—he hated to think she was wasting her life away, but the truth of the matter was she hadn’t been the same since…well, since she took that wretched human man’s life.
“Let me go!” She struggled against him, her mess of hair tickling his chin.
“Not a chance,” he muttered.
When her knee came dangerously close to hitting him in the groin, he decided he had enough. In one swift movement, he lifted her up, tossing her over his shoulder like she was nothing more than a sack of sand. When his royal guards closed inaround them, she froze, her fists slacking as she rested her palms against his back.
She may be the sister of the Lord of Time, but an assault on the Imperial Prince of Prava could still land her in the dungeon for a night. If anything, it would be worth it to teach her a lesson.
Atlas leveled Jarek with a cold stare. The male didn’t even flinch. Just cracked his knuckles, all those skull rings he wore glinting like shards.
“Go find another toy to play with tonight.” He clamped his hand over the back of Everinne’s thighs, ensuring his grip was strong enough to leave prints should she attempt to fight him again, while also making sure he covered her nearly exposed ass. “This one’s broken.”
At those words, Everinne fell limp against his shoulder.
But Atlas didn’t have time to feel guilt for his insult, not while facing off with the demon summoner.
Jarek didn’t retort. He wouldn’t. Not with everyone watching. He stayed where he was, but even as Atlas turned away and stalked toward the exit with Everinne in tow, he could feel Jarek’s hardened eyes launching daggers into his back.
The brisk winter air cut through Atlas’s shirt, freezing his lungs on the first inhale, and from over his shoulder, Everinne shivered.
“Should’ve brought a coat,” Atlas chided. But he held her tighter.
“P-piss off.” Her entire body clenched, and he could feel the goosebumps pebbling her thighs against the palm of his hand.
