Page 98 of Filthy Little Witch
“A favor?” I barked an incredulous sound. “Look at you!” I waved a hand at his general appearance. “How do you think Marta’s been doing, huh? Better yet, how do you think I’ve been doing?”
“I can’t care about that,” he said. “I have to protect you.”
“By running away.” I rolled my eyes. “Typical.”
He squared his jaw, his gaze turning fiery and defiant as the insult landed somewhere around his ego.
Finally. The reaction I wanted.
“This isn’t college all over again,” he said. “We’re not kids anymore, Atlas.”
“You’re Goddamned right.” I stood and stalked closer to him. “We’re adults. So it’s time you start acting like it.”
“A warrior protects his witch,” he said. “This is me protecting her…protecting you…from what’s inside me.”
I leaned in close, bringing my face inches from his. “And what makes you think it’s not already in both of us, too?”
That surprised him. He blinked, and his mouth fell open as he reeled back from me. “What?”
“That’s right, brother,” I said. “Blood bound. Flesh bound. And whatever the fuck that was in that Goddamned church. Marta’s a mess, has been for weeks. And me?” I blew out a sarcastic breath. “It’s taking everything in me not to drag you out to the car by the scruff of your neck.”
Wes winced and looked to the ground again. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care about your apologies,” I snarled. “I don’t want to hear them.”
“Then what do you want?” His voice came out small and timid, reminding me of all the times Dad had reprimanded him as a child, and he’d have to eat crow to get back in the bastard’s good graces.
But despite it all, despite the rage and the uncontrollable wrath scalding my veins, I still wanted him. He was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and I’d probably go to my grave yearning for the taste of his lips on mine.
“So many things,” I whispered.
“Atlas, I…” He was suddenly so unsure of himself. Perhaps I hated that the most. That I’d made him like this. That we’d done it to each other.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders. The touch coasted through my body like a live wire, and when I slid them up his collarbones to his neck, the feel of his skin made me want to forgo my plans altogether. But no. I had to stay strong. I had to earn this, to prove to him I wanted him, that he was better off with us than he was out here, wasting away in some shit-hole town in the middle of nowhere. “We’re going to fight for it.”
He furrowed his brows and pulled his lips between his teeth.
“If I win, and I’m going to, I get to do whatever I want with you. Up to and including dragging your sorry ass back to Asheville. If you win, I’ll leave you to your misery.”
He sighed, the weight of this confrontation melting from his bones. He wanted to give in, I could feel it. But he also didn’t want to come back and face the music. He couldn’t accept that we’d love him despite whatever this was, that he deserved us and we thought he was worthy of that. My brother was always his own worst enemy.
“Just like old times, huh? Wrestling over the last cookie in the pack?” He smirked and shook his head, trying to look away again.
I held his jaw firm, forcing him to meet my stare, keeping him in place so he could see how serious I was. “I’d say our witch is a far better prize than a fucking cookie.”
At the mention of our witch, something switched in his gaze, something softening and heating at the same time. He darted his tongue out to wet his lips, but my focus dropped to that movement, my mind going to the last time that perfect mouth was wrapped around my cock. Long gone were the shame and guilt of feeling this way about him. Society’s rules didn’t matter in the liminal, and now that we were back, it seemed that they didn’t matter in the real world, either.
A heartbeat passed between us, one where I silently asked if he was ready, and he silently accepted the challenge. Then he shoved me back as hard as he could and took off into the night.
I righted myself and raced after him. He was taller, but I was faster, and I always had been. But where would be the fun in catching him right away? He headed for the tree line, launching over a fallen log before disappearing into the forest cover. Heart pumping, legs scrambling, I vaulted over the same obstacle and scrambled through the undergrowth. Leaves crunched under me as my panting drowned out the chorus of the night.
He hit the gas pedal as he dodged between trees, and I sprinted to keep up with him, finally catching him around the hips and tackling him to the ground. But he was quick on the defense, elbowing me in the ribs as we fell. I grunted and curled to the side, but it was enough for him to bolt to his feet and take off again.
Motherfucker.
I bit back the torment of the hit and pushed upright. It had cost me, and he was further ahead this time. But my time in the gym had done me good, and I made up the lost ground. He pivoted to the left, and I anticipated the move, catching him around the waist this time, so we fell to the side.
“Oh, little brother,” I teased. “So predictable.”
