Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ATLAS
Rune is quiet most of the day. Well, not exactly quiet, but not very chatty with me.
I do my best to stay out of his way, which isn’t easy in a cell that’s already barely big enough for the two of us, while he paces and mutters to himself under his breath.
Every so often he stops, kneels down, and writes something in the dirt of the floor with his finger before standing up and starting his pacing all over again.
I’m afraid to say anything and break his concentration, so I sit on his cot and watch him, like a goldfish swimming in circles in a too-small bowl.
I wish I could do something useful, but my primary skills are smashing shit and acting as a shield, and neither of those things are all that helpful in a magically reinforced prison.
And since there’s nothing to do but stare at Rune, I start to notice things about him, like the way his long hair cascades over his shoulders. Would he enjoy having it wrapped around my fist while he’s on his hands and knees getting pounded from behind by my massive gargoyle cock?
Heat stirs in my gut, and I try to push that inappropriate thought away.
Don’t think about his hair.
Okay, what else?
His face… It’s made up of sharp angles, with high cheekbones and pointed nose.
There’s an intensity in his eyes and a little snarl on his lips that give a “don’t fuck with me” vibe to the concentration furrowing his brow.
It shouldn’t be sexy, but it kind of is.
I can imagine that same snarl twisting his lips as he rides me, digging his fingernails into my skin as he throws his head back and moans my name…
Fuck, his face isn’t safe either.
Maybe I need to stop looking at him completely. Except, I’m not sure where else to look considering there’s nothing in here but stone walls and Rune. Maybe I should just shut my eyes. That seems like the safest option.
I settle against the wall and let my eyelids fall closed.
Perfect, now I can stop staring at him and imagining all kinds of lewd, horny scenarios.
Except having my eyes closed doesn’t stop me from smelling him or feeling the shift in the air every time he moves past me in his endless circles.
My cock stays all too alert, and my mind keeps reaching for fantasies that I continuously bat down.
We’re being held captive for gods know what reason. The last thing Rune wants or needs is to have me lusting after him.
A little flutter moves inside me, and my eyes jolt open.
“Did you just do something to me?” I ask, breaking the relative silence.
He stops pacing and looks at me, cocking his head.
“No, why?” Rune rakes his eyes over me like he’s expecting to see evidence of something.
I shake my head.
“Nothing, sorry. It was probably just indigestion or something.” I close my eyes again, and as soon as I do, the fluttering starts again.
I bolt upright and find Rune standing inches away, right next to the cot, staring at me.
“What just happened?”
I shake my head again, placing a hand in the center of my chest and rubbing it slowly.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was the magic thing? It felt different though.”
“Different how?” He sits down on the edge of the cot, and it groans under our combined weight.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but when I feel your magic, it feels like you somehow. Like a scent, kind of.”
He nods. “Yes, magic has a kind of fingerprint that’s specific to each magic user. So, you felt something and it didn’t feel like me? But you didn’t recognize it?”
I frown, trying to figure out what exactly it felt like.
“It didn’t really feel like magic. It felt…” I rub my chest again and try to remember the exact feeling. “Hold on, let me see if it happens again.”
I close my eyes for a third time, and for a long minute, nothing happens.
Maybe it really was just indigestion. Not that gargoyles typically get gastrointestinal issues, but you never know.
The heavy magic keeping us trapped here could be doing weird things to me.
But then it happens again, a weird little flutter that, now I’m paying attention to it, almost feels like someone poking me internally.
I gasp.
“It’s back. Right here.” I keep my eyes closed and tap on my sternum. “Like a strange prodding feeling.”
Rune’s touch is unexpected. His hand is warm as he places it flat against my chest. The prodding continues, but nothing else happens.
“Hold on, I think we need skin contact.” He pulls his hand away and then slides it under my shirt.
My cock jerks and a hot shudder moves beneath my skin as his fingertips ghost over it, not quite touching me fully, but somehow pulling all of my energy to the surface like a magnet.
When he places his hand against my sternum this time, a staticky feeling infuses my bones, pushing me down, down, down, like I’m floating away from my body into darkness.
“Atlas.” Drax’s voice fills the void, but it’s nothing like when I managed to communicate with Rune in my sleep. This is distant and difficult to fully make out. “Wh… are…”
“Drax?” I try to call back, but all that comes out is a whisper. “I can’t hear you.”
“Not strong… Magic block…”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m with Rune,” I say, but I’m not sure if he can even hear me. “I don’t know where. Maybe somewhere in New Orleans? It’s an old prison or something. Supposedly underground, but Rune says that’s impossible. We’re safe, but we can’t get out.”
It’s a long shot, but maybe he’ll be able to get some of that and it will at least give them a lead.
“Gods…” Drax growls in frustration. “Not working… keep trying…”
Just as quickly as I was pulled into the darkness, I’m slammed fully back into my body with a jarring thump. Rune is half on top of me, his hand still pressed to the center of my chest, his face only inches from mine.
“What happened?” he asks, his breath fluttering against my face.
“It was Drax trying to contact me. I don’t think he could hear me though, and I could barely hear him. He’s not the most powerful demon, so I don’t know if it was lack of skill or if he was being blocked by the magic that’s keeping us here.”
“He’s looking for you though. That’s something.”
“Yeah, it’s something,” I agree.
RUNE
I managed to work up quite an appetite with all that pacing and thinking today. My stomach growls when Elvira drops off dinner. A spicy smell permeates the small space and makes my mouth water.
“Gumbo,” I gasp. I didn’t seriously think…
Does that mean that Elvira told my captor I asked for it, or are they listening in?
That can’t be true though, because if they were, they would know that Atlas is here.
Unless they just don’t care. It’s not like it changes much.
I’m still trapped, I’m still pissing in a bucket, my magic is still more or less useless.
Although, I did come up with some ideas today that I want to try. Food first though.
I pick up the bowl and carry it over to the cot where Atlas is still sitting, just like he has been most of the day, doing his best to stay out of my way while I wore a path in the floor trying to piece some things together.
I didn’t get far in regard to who might be behind all of this, but I do have some thoughts about my magic.
“Want some?” I offer, setting the bowl down between us, careful not to spill any.
He shakes his head. “I’m good. You should eat.”
I’m tempted to argue with him again, if for no other reason than because I don’t need anyone babying me.
But I am hungry, and he said he doesn’t need to eat much.
I’ll insist at the next meal, since I definitely don’t want him to become too weak to be useful to me.
It would be completely impractical to let him turn to stone just when I’m figuring out how to generate magic with him.
Plus… fine… he’s kind of sweet for a blockheaded dummy who let himself get trapped here right along with me.
I shovel a spoonful of gumbo into my mouth and force myself not to react to the delightfully spicy, savory flavors that burst on my tongue and warm my belly as they slide down my throat.
If my captor is somehow listening or watching, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction.
Gumbo and my favorite old t-shirt do not make up for the fact that they abducted me, bound my magic, and are making me piss in a goddamn bucket.
“Everything okay?” Atlas asks, studying my face with a frown as I keep a carefully neutral expression through another few bites of food.
I give a jerky nod and consider the possibility that we are being monitored.
If that’s true, then in order to test the feedback loop of my magic inside Atlas, we’re going to have to touch…
a lot. My captor will see that much, even if we’re careful not to let on what exactly is happening.
But perhaps if we made it look like we were touching for other reasons…
I finish my gumbo and just about restrain myself from licking the bowl like a ravenous animal before I set it on the ground next to my cot. I lick my lips and look at Atlas for a moment, the rest of my plan slipping into place. It’s safer, just in case they are watching.
I shift towards him on the rickety cot, then crook my finger to beckon him closer.
He frowns but doesn’t hesitate to lean forward.
I don’t have a supernatural sense of smell, but I still manage to catch the surprisingly pleasant scent of moss on his skin—fresh and green, like being in an old garden—as I bring my mouth close to his ear, so he’ll be able to hear my low whisper.
“I think they might be monitoring us,” I murmur as quietly as I can.
He grunts in response and tilts his ear closer, causing my lips to inadvertently brush his earlobe.
A warm tingle rushes through my body and another spark of my magic crackles between us at that brief touch.
“I want to test my magic to see if, by touching you, I can generate enough to create a low white noise that will keep us from being overheard.”
“What do you need?” His voice is deep and a little husky. If anyone heard that, it plays perfectly into my plan. I just hope he can be an adult about this.
“Pretend we’re lovers. I need to touch you without looking suspicious if they are watching.”
“What?” he chokes.
“Just a kiss, to see if that can create enough magic,” I assure him.
What I’m not ready to tell him is that all of my thinking and pacing today led me to one major epiphany: sex magic has a long history as one of the best ways for a mage to draw power.
If a kiss does end up giving me enough power to create a simple sound shield, then the possibilities with sex magic are practically endless.
I don’t want to scare him though, so one thing at a time.
He swallows hard and turns his face towards me.
Our noses bump and another little spark dances along my skin.
Anticipation buzzes in my gut, my body craving another hit of the magic that’s starting to feel like a missing limb at this point.
That’s why my lips are tingling and that strange place inside my chest where I can feel Atlas is starting to ache… I’m missing my magic.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Take whatever you need.”
Except once the words leave his lips, he doesn’t wait for me to take anything.
He’s the one who closes the last half an inch of space between our mouths, catching my bottom lip gently between his.
I gasp at the sudden rush of power that fills me, sizzling through my veins and flowing all the way to my fingertips in an instant.
It’s barely a wisp compared to the amount of power I’m used to, but right now it feels like a wildfire.
Atlas’s lips are soft and sweet, moving against mine tentatively, stealing the tiniest sips from my mouth and giving me quiet rumbling sounds in return.
The feeling that vibrates in my chest and spreads down into my gut doesn’t feel like the magic I’m used to at all. It feels like something else entirely.
I slide my fingers into his beard and deepen the kiss, parting his lips with my tongue so I can lick into the hot, wet depths of his mouth.
My cock stiffens and my heart thunders with the sensation of my magic pooling in my bones.
This swirling, tightening, thrilling feeling of his lips on mine makes my head spin.
Atlas’s hands roam over my back and down to cup my ass, and his kiss gets bolder and more demanding, his tongue meeting mine with hungry, desperate strokes.
He pulls me onto his lap and the cot groans underneath us again, but I barely notice it.
Who could notice anything with Atlas’s massive, throbbing cock pressed against the inside of their thigh?
I guess it’s true what they say about gargoyles…
He breaks the kiss with a heavy, panting breath. His eyelids flutter open and I notice a blue glow behind his irises—the same shade of blue my tattoos turn when I’m using my magic. I exhale and another flicker of magic dances on my lips, reminding me what the purpose of that kiss was to begin with.
I quietly whisper an incantation, and a soft whooshing sound fills the air, like the hum of an air conditioner—dull enough to go unnoticed, but enough to drown out anyone’s ability to listen in, even magically. They’ll think we’re being completely silent.
“Did it work?” Atlas asks.
I grin and nod. “It worked.”