Page 37 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“Let me go.” Her tone lacked its usual conviction, instead her plea came out in a hushed breath. “Please.”
“On one condition.”
Everinne scowled up at him.
“You tell Veros where you’re working.” His grip on her wrists loosened, his hand fell away from her waist. “Before he hears it from someone else.”
Now it was Everinne’s turn to smirk. “You mean someone like you? Planning on running off and tattling to my big brother about how I’m being naughty?”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word.” Atlas’s teeth scraped along his bottom lip and she tracked the movement. He released her arms, and she almost sighed in relief, dropping them to her sides. But then he gripped her hips instead, dragging her so close, she felt everyhardinch of him. Including that distinctively large bulge straining against his pants.
Oh, gods.
She’d gone too far.
“But no, I won’t be the one to tell him.” He took the smallest step back, away from her. His dismissal was a slap in the face, the sting of it left her cheeks flushed with humiliation. “It’s better if Veros hears it from you. Directly. Since you have a tendency to make his life an unnecessary living hell.”
Bastard.
She shot a pointed look at his erection, of which he was not at all ashamed, then met his damning gaze. “Was there something else you needed, Your Radiance?”
“No.” This time, his voice was hoarse.
“You’ve said that word a lot tonight.” Everinne tilted her head, eyed him coolly. Now that she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on him, she was quite certain she could play his stupid little games.
“And yet, you never listen.”
Beats of painful silence passed between them as they stared at each other. Watching, waiting to see what the other would do.
Everinne’s gaze darted to his mouth, to the wolf tattooed across half of his chest, to where his dark gold locks fell around his pointed ears. All the while, his enchanting eyes trailed over every inch of her, igniting her like a flame without a spark.
Then suddenly, Atlas bent down, and she thought for sure he would kiss her. He was impossibly close, and even though she loathed him with every fiber of her being, she knew that if his lips touched hers…she would kiss him back. Her lashes fluttered, her breath hitched.
But instead, he tucked a strand of her dark hair back behind her ear, his mouth gently grazing the sensitive flesh of its tip.
She almost came undone, would’ve peeled out of her dress on the spot for him.
Goosebumps riddled her flesh.
He reached up, his fingers gently playing with the dagger earring dangling from her ear.
“Be careful, Everinne,” he whispered. “Immortals are disappearing.”
Disappointment snapped through her and she straightened, locking her knees, and silently vowing to never fall under his spell again.
“Aw,” she sneered, shoving the pain splintering through her back into her pit of a soul where it belonged. “Are you worried about me?”
Atlas shook his head, and the rest of her candles flared to life, illuminating the kitchen. He snatched his black helmet off the table, then headed for the door. She watched him leave, prayed to the gods he’d never return, but then he stopped. Tossing a glance at her from over his shoulder, he muttered, “I always worry about you.”
In the next moment, Atlas was gone.
And she was alone. Again.
Everinne stalked over to her near-empty cupboard and grabbed what remained of her honeyfire. She downed all of it, reveling in the burn, the way the sweetened smokey alcohol scoured her stomach. She told herself it was to keep the nightmares away, to temper the foul magic that tainted her blood. But this time, it was to numb the memories of her past. The ones she kept locked away in the icy fortress of her heart, from when she fancied herself in love with the Imperial Prince of Prava.
Twelve
Everinne’s blood was an aphrodisiac on the tip of Atlas’s tongue. Dark and sinful, just like her.
