Page 81 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Atlas stomped toward the double doors of his bedroom and threw them open so the etched glass panels shattered.
Following in his stormy wake, she leapt over the shards of broken glass littering the ground and tiptoed into his room. He disappeared into the bathing suite and she inhaled, only to be greeted by the overwhelming scent of him, of fresh cedar, mouthwatering neroli, and tempting spice. Her lungs ached and her heart thundered as his volatile emotions crashed down the bond, wrecking her.
He emerged a moment later and threw a towel in her direction.
She barely caught it before it hit the ground.
Atlas’s face was a mask of utter calm, devoid of any emotion. He rolled his shoulders back, his chest expanding with deep, measured breaths, and the bond fell silent.
His cold gaze flicked to the door leading to one of the halls. “Get out.”
Frozen in place by fear or dread, she couldn’t be sure, but Everinne didn’t move.
“I am not asking.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Get. Out.”
She ducked her head, clutching the towel to her. Oh gods, it smelled just like him, too. Something inside of her snapped, breaking her. “Yes, Your Imperial Highness.”
Everinne bolted from Atlas’s quarters, unable to look at him as tears slid freely down her cheeks. All the emotions she hated, the ones she couldn’t control, slammed into her. One after another. She felt herself slipping off the ledge as she sprinteddown the dimly lit corridors, passing snickering servants and whispering halls. Panic. Heartbreak. Fear. They were all a violent landslide, careening toward her with unfathomable speed, ready to smother her into a suffocating abyss.
Broken sobs escaped her as she muffled her face with the towel, as the dark magic inside her yawned, awakening once more. Welcoming her despair.
No, no, no.
Her body convulsed as she fumbled blindly toward the bedroom the kralv kept for her, her vision blurring as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She swiped at them hastily, her fingertips coming away smeared with kohl and stardust, a stark reminder she’d brokentwohearts tonight. Remorse sank its claws into her, pierced her until the stab of its agony met bone, until she thought she would die from the emotional pain she’d inflicted upon Lord Tovian and Atlas. She’d hurt them both, cut them deeply, and this time, she had only herself to blame.
Not her magic.
Two guards were positioned outside of her bedroom, but neither of them spared her a glance as she approached. They did not look at her, did not speak to her, no doubt they were only there to ensure she followed Kralv Oldrich’s explicit demands. They simply opened the door, let her stagger into the dimly lit room, then shut it soundly behind her.
Everinne dropped the towel.
She peeled out of her still dripping dress, letting it crumple to the ground at her feet in a heap of sodden material. Shadowy wisps of pitch black and deep violet slipped from her fingers, and she curled her hands into fists, pleading with the chaotic magic to stay silent. Kicking off her shoes, she trudged over to the glowing hearth, but each time her bare feet met the plush carpet, the steps felt like a steady march to her own death.
Naked and shivering, she stood before the fire in an attempt to warm her frozen body. But not even the heat of the flames could offer her any kind of comfort. Her chest rose and fell in uneven intervals as the darkness within her magnified, preying upon the weakness of her mind.
Please, she begged before turning away from the hearth and walking numbly over to the bed.
Not tonight.
She crawled on top of the velvet comforter, drawing her knees to her chest, curling into herself.
“Just for tonight,” she whispered out loud and squeezed her eyes shut, the silent tears still spilling down her cheeks. “Please, leave me alone.”
Everinne ran her thumb along the band of the engagement ring on her hand and waited.
Tendrils of her power cocooned around her, blanketing her in a swath of shadowy magic. And for the first time, the harrowing beast inside of her fell blessedly silent.
Twenty-Six
Atlas slammed his fist into the wall.
He stared at the crumbling hole of smooth stone, flicking a glance at his bloodied knuckles. The pain was fleeting. He didn’t even feel it.
Anger flowed through his veins, drawing upon a well of rage that continued to fill, a fathomless pit of darkness that only served to stoke his fury.
Damn Everinne. And damn her for denying him.
I reject the bond. I reject you.
