Chapter 2 #2
She was quite possibly the only female in the realm who could ever get away with demanding anything from him. And it was strictly because he’d known her for a miserable eighty-seven years.
“Why?” he sneered, daring an inch closer. “So you can keep ruining your life?”
Everinne bristled. He could hear the racing of her heart, sense the pounding of her blood. Her cheeks flushed. Not with embarrassment, with anger. She was furious. She was never good at concealing her emotions.
“Well, considering you already did that for me once, I don’t see the harm in doing it again.”
The scent of her magic slammed into him—blooming midnight lilacs. He was careful not to inhale too deeply.
“Careful, Ever.” Atlas leaned forward, until his mouth was barely a breath from her ear. The purple studs lining their smooth points twinkled. “Your magic is showing.”
She went rigid in his grip, and he released her.
Zoryana appeared then, quietly taking Everinne’s hand in her own. Instantly, Everinne relaxed. Her shoulders slumped, her breathing evened.
“Apologies, Your Highness.” Zoryana dipped into a curtsy, shielding Everinne from him. “We were just leaving.”
“See that you do.” His words were clipped. Cold and unkind. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to direct his anger at Zoryana, who was merely trying to save her friend from imminent disaster. Either way, his tone had the desired effect.
Zoryana nodded quickly and draped one arm around Everinne’s shoulders, guiding her in the opposite direction.
He watched them walk away, and when Everinne tossed one final look back at him, those turquoise eyes with center rings of gold were filled with enough fire to turn him to ash and dust.
Too bad something so beautiful could be so dangerous.
Atlas sensed his Captain of the Guard before he appeared beside him.
Caedian Trivaris rocked back onto his heels and let out a low whistle. “Damn. No wonder Veros doesn’t bring her around the palace much.”
Atlas’s blood simmered. No. It boiled. He fisted his hands by his sides until his nails bit into his palms. Any deeper and he would draw blood. “She’s off limits.”
Caedian cocked a mocking brow. “For who?”
“Everyone,” Atlas ground out, then jerked his head toward one of the spiral staircases, roughing a hand over his face. “Let’s go to the Midnight Lounge. I find myself in want of a drink.”
They shuffled their way through the crowd and climbed the stairs.
Atlas slid back into the reputation he’d created for himself, once again becoming the playboy prince.
He winked and flashed his most charming smile, making sure his dimples were on full display.
He kissed hands and wrists, letting his magic slip just a little so the females were damn near feral, and even some of the males were stunned into silence.
His sexual appeal knew no bounds, he was in his element. Limitless.
Until he caught sight of his own reflection in the ornate mirror hanging just outside the door to the Midnight Lounge.
Unkempt dark blond hair that always looked messy. Strong jaw and high cheekbones. Eyes that were sometimes gold, then sometimes green. A smile that could win hearts and break them just as quickly. A prince who loathed his father and mourned his mother.
Atlas looked away then, refocusing his attention on the task at hand.
He strode into the Midnight Lounge, the most exclusive area in the Grand Cru where only Prava’s wealthiest nobles and merchants could find a seat.
The balcony was enclosed with reflective glass, so he could see out, but no one else could see inside.
Here, the music wasn’t loud and pulse-pounding.
It was smooth and sensual, a low hum that echoed through his bones.
Sleek, black leather sofas were scattered about, with small granite tables for idle conversation, and dark corners for more intimate encounters.
The lounge had its own private bar and bartender.
All Atlas had to do was raise a hand and a server would instantly appear to answer his beck and call.
This time, he stalked right up to the bar, ordered two shots of honeyfire, and downed them both.
The golden liquid tasted like sweetened smoke, though the burn down the back of his throat did little to ease the frustration coursing through him.
Caedian’s brows narrowed slightly at the quick consumption, but he said nothing.
He’d grown accustomed to his prince’s indulgences, even though he knew much of it was forced.
Atlas found an empty sofa near the balcony overlooking the dance floor, knowing he wouldn’t be alone for long.
It was only a matter of time before some female charmed her way onto his lap.
But for now, he had an excellent view, where he could see everyone and everything.
Including a certain dark-haired faerie with stardust on her cheeks.
No matter how much Atlas tried to relax, no matter how much he wanted to drink and smoke as many stigs as possible, something else took up residence in his mind.
Despite everything, he couldn’t shake the image of Everinne leaping from that chandelier, or the heart-stopping fear that pierced him when she fell.