Page 53 of Filthy Little Witch
“Atlas, what if the demon got her? What if…what if…” I couldn’t think straight.
“Listen, your abuelita has been a powerful witch longer than either of us has been alive. If anyone could take that bastard on, it’s her.”
His words registered, but my emotional mind couldn’t latch onto them. All I could focus on was how that evil monster could be ripping her apart at this very moment, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. In fact, I’d caused it.
“Look at me,” he said. “Marta, Goddamn it, look at me.”
With tears making my vision blurry, I glanced at him, focusing on his concerned emerald gaze. “Breathe with me.”
He took a deep inhale, and a steady wave of relaxation and calm washed out of him and into me. I sensed his steadiness, the weight of his hands on my shoulders, the feel of the air sliding down the back of my throat and into my lungs.
“Exhale,” he said, blowing it out slowly.
Together, we inhaled and exhaled until my blood pressure returned to normal and the terrified side of me retreated into the background, leaving someone much more logical and levelheaded.
Atlas, of course, was correct. Tita was powerful, and her house was warded. After my disappearance, she would have strengthened those protections.
She can handle it. Whatever happens, she can handle it.
“We can’t do anything to help her from here,” Atlas said. “We have to keep our shit tight so we can get out, okay?”
I nodded and gripped his shirt, fisting the material between my fingers so hard, I dug my nails into the skin on his shoulders. He wiped the tears from my cheeks and nodded. His eyes were so green and comforting, his lips inches from mine. His hot, hard body was suddenly so close and enticing. I remembered how he tasted during the ritual, how it felt with his hands tangled in my hair, how his tongue had wrenched an orgasm out of me.
Atlas was infuriating and irritating, and he lived to argue with me, but I had to admit I didn’t hate him anymore. In that moment, I thought he was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen.
I want him…so bad.
I didn’t know my emotions could swing so quickly from one to the other. All I knew was that if I didn’t have him right then and there, I would die. Simply waste away.
Perhaps he read this in my gaze, or maybe felt it stir in my body, because he looked between my eyes and licked his lips, and that was it.
I pounced on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and slamming my lips against his. He moaned and sank into the contact, grabbing the back of my legs to lift me so I could connect my ankles behind his back. He carried me over to the sofa and sat down so I straddled his thighs, my knees near his hips.
His tongue wrestled into my mouth, and I sucked on it, remembering how decadent this experience had been last night in the woods. It had been a week with nothing more than heated glances and innuendos wrought with sexual tension, but none of that mattered. I needed this connection in a way I’d never known before, especially with him.
But fuck it. What happened in the liminal, right?
I went for his belt, ripping it open so I could get to the button and zipper on his jeans. He likewise worked on mine, but when that proved to be too much of a struggle, he grabbed the knife from his holster and flicked it open, slicing down my denim with expert precision. It should have scared me to have a blade so close to my cunt, but the sight of his impatience to get in my pants had me groaning with arousal.
Heat flooded my lower stomach, sinking between my legs, and once I freed his magnificent cock from his pants, he grabbed my wrists to stop me.
“Wait,” he said, clenching his eyes shut as he shook his head.
“What?” My heart clenched. “What for?”
“Marta.” His pained voice had me searching for a cut. Had he hurt himself? “Look at me.”
I glanced up to meet his gaze with a widened one of my own. He cupped my cheeks and held my head in place, glancing between my eyes.
“How are you feeling right now?” His cock twitched against my bare cunt, indicating the insatiable desire I felt brewing in his sternum. I wanted him. He wanted me.
“Can’t you tell?” What kind of stupid question was that? We were blood-bonded. He could sense the inferno inside me.
“I think…” He cleared his throat and closed his eyes again like he was trying to shove away a round of dizziness. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…”
I whimpered in disappointment, twisting my fingers around his shirt like I meant to pull it over his head.
Under normal circumstances, I would never lower myself to beg a man for his attention. But this was one of my warriors…my Atlas… Mine.
