Chapter 4 #2
“P-put me d-down. Now.” Everinne’s harsh whisper echoed around them and she flicked his back. He barely felt it. “You’re acting l-like a j-jerk.”
He could almost hear her teeth chattering over the wind.
“And you’re acting like a petulant child.” He bit the words out, then plucked her off his shoulder and dumped her unceremoniously onto the backseat of his valade.
She sprawled across the smooth black leather, hissing through her teeth. Atlas slid in next to her, the door closing soundlessly behind him, and she scrambled over to the other side. Like she couldn’t stand to be near him. Good. He couldn’t stand her either, especially not when she was drunk.
Everinne refused to look at him. Instead, she fidgeted with the compartments along the interior of the vehicle, running her fingers along the glossy edges and curves.
For a moment, she stared at the reflective partition separating them from Atlas’s driver, but then her gaze drifted to the glass ceiling where the stars were hiding behind layers of clouds and Starysa’s bright city lights.
She wrapped her arms around herself, then snagged her bottom lip with her teeth, and reached down to touch her ankle.
Her fingers jerked away and even in the slash of dim light coming in through the car’s windows as they drove away from the Grand Cru, Atlas realized her ankle was already beginning to swell.
“Let me see it,” he demanded, his kindness having long ago evaporated. Along with his patience.
“No,” she snarled, crossing her arms.
Another tremble wrecked her, and Atlas reached over, tugging the silver fur blanket from the bench across from them. He tossed it on top of her and he tried again.
“Everinne.” He patted his thigh, meeting her glare with one of his own. “Give me your ankle.”
She huffed out a breath of annoyance, burying herself beneath the fur, wincing when she tried to adjust her position. “I said no.”
“Fine.” Atlas stretched his legs out, crossing one ankle over the other as the city passed by in a blur of colored lights and ornate buildings. “Let it swell, then you can hobble up seven flights of stairs by yourself because you’re too stubborn.”
She paled slightly, but a tiny line formed across her brow.
Sliding against the leather, she shifted, revealing the length of her leg from beneath the protection of the fur blanket.
Carefully, she propped her injured ankle upon his thigh.
It was quite possibly the most sensual thing he’d ever witnessed.
Atlas immediately shook the traitorous thought from his mind.
This was Everinne.
Veros’s sister.
Not only was she untouchable, but she was unpredictable. Risky. Venomous. The last thing he wanted to do was get tangled up in imagining what those smooth legs of hers might look like wrapped around— no.
Atlas blinked and stared down at her ankle resting upon his lap.
The skin was already mottled with splotches of bluish-purple.
Granted, it would heal in no time with her fae blood, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help speed up the process.
He pressed one of the gold buttons on the side of the door and the small compartment flipped open.
Hidden inside was a dagger with a golden wolf’s head carved into the hilt and fire rubies for eyes, a pack of stigs, a small box of matches since he couldn’t control fire, and a glass jar filled with a healing salve.
He pulled out one of the stigs—dried skullcap tightly wrapped in a passionflower stem, perfect for smoking—and pinched it between his lips.
Grabbing one of the matches, he struck it against the bottom of Everinne’s jeweled shoe.
She jerked, her turquoise gaze flaring in the faint glow of the tiny orange flame.
“The fuck,” she mumbled, but Atlas ignored her.
He lit the stig, inhaled deeply, then blew out a puff of floral, minty smoke. Almost instantly, his muscles relaxed, the tension crawling along the back of his neck and shoulders eased, and his mood mellowed.
“You shouldn’t smoke.” Everinne notched open one of the windows and a frigid gust of air fluttered the tendrils of dark hair curling at her neck.
When he refused to answer, she huffed in annoyance and tried to pull her leg back.
Atlas clamped one hand down on her knee, preventing her from moving.
She sighed dramatically, her bottom lip sticking out in what he assumed was supposed to be a snarl but looked like more of a pout. “It’s bad for you.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s bad for me.” Atlas rolled the stig to the corner of his mouth and grabbed the jar of salve. He twisted off the top, scooped out a small amount of the slightly yellow ointment, and carefully applied it to her swollen ankle.
Everinne’s head lolled back against the seat and her eyes fluttered closed, her wispy lashes casting indistinct shadows across the very top of her glitter-covered cheeks.
He continued to gently rub the salve into her skin until it dissolved completely and an almost imperceptible sound of pleasure escaped her.
His gut seized.
“What is that stuff?” she asked. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing was becoming deeper.
“It’s a healing salve.” Atlas closed the jar and returned it to the compartment, clicking it shut. “A friend of mine picked it up during his travels.”
“Which friend?”
“You don’t know him.”
She made a noncommittal noise of disinterest and a few moments of silence passed between them until she said, “Atlas?”
“Hm?” He took another drag of the stig, his hand still casually placed on top of her knee.
“Don’t tell Veros about…” She yawned, stretching and drawing her other leg up onto the seat, stretching it out across him. “Skulls.”
Skulls? What the fuck was—oh. The demon summoner. Because she didn’t know his name.
“I don’t keep secrets, Everinne.” His blood simmered and he studied the burning tip of the stig, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Especially not when they involve your safety.”
“You kept one,” she whispered.
Right. Her secret.
The fact that she harbored a dangerous magic very few even knew existed.
“That’s different.” Atlas slung one arm around the back of the seat, keeping his gaze focused on the reflective panel in front of him. They were almost to her apartment.
“Of course.” Everinne snuggled into the blanket. “It’s always different.”
His valade pulled to a stop in front of a building in the shopping district.
The outside was made to look like the townhomes on either side of it, complete with pale blue shutters outlining each window and bronze balconies barely large enough for two people.
But instead of housing one family, it was made of seven apartments, each one stacked on top of the other, and Everinne was on the seventh floor with only the gilded rooftop above her.
Atlas snuffed out his stig, then reached over and gathered Everinne, blanket and all, into his arms. His driver opened the door, and he stepped out, carrying her against his chest.
“Do you need any assistance, Your Imperial Highness?” His driver asked, bowing.
“No, I’ve got her.” His gaze slid to the vehicle that had been trailing them the entire time, and he nodded once to Caedian in the passenger seat. “I’m going to take her upstairs and I’ll be right back down.”
“Of course, Your Imperial Highness.”
Atlas could’ve taken the lift up to the top floor of Everinne’s apartment, but instead he climbed all seven floors to her level. Her head rolled against his shoulder, her breathing even and deep, and he shifted her into one arm to grab the door handle.
Not at all surprised to find it unlocked.
Her place was spacious and tidy, but in a chaotic kind of way.
Dozens of half-melted candles flickered to life with faerie light the moment he walked in, illuminating the space with a soft glow.
The walls were all painted varying shades of purple and gray, and there was a large onyx bookshelf positioned against one wall that was completely devoid of any reading material.
Instead, it was overflowing with different types of crystals—selenite, amethyst, aura quartz, and citrine.
Some of them Atlas recognized, but there were a few others he’d never seen before.
Bundles of dried sage lined the windowsill in her kitchen, looking out over the city that had not yet gone to sleep.
Three empty wineglasses were sitting in the sink, each one of the rims marked by her lipstick, and there was a half-full bottle of sparkling wine sitting on the counter.
Her balcony was just off her kitchen, where an oversized crimson sweater was tossed over one chair, like she’d simply forgotten about it.
Or perhaps she spent a lot of time out there. By herself.
Atlas carried her farther, noting the strangely personal art lining the halls in silver frames.
Vibrant landscapes, golden splashes representing Starysa, and abstract images, all dark and moody.
But there wasn’t a single mirror to be found.
He almost tripped over a pair of shoes on the wooden floor and gripped her tighter as she mumbled something into his chest.
Her unintelligible words seared through the fabric of his shirt, warming his skin.
He blew out a breath, finally finding her bedroom, and nudged the door open.
Everinne’s scent assaulted him. Not the scent of her magic, but of her. Warm caramel beneath layers of rose and blackcurrant.
It was entirely too tempting.
He needed to leave before his thoughts betrayed him again.
Atlas laid her down on a plush silk comforter, then covered her with the fur blanket from his valade .
He turned to go, when something sparkly strewn over the bedpost caught his eye.
It was a piece of black lace fabric, studded with little diamonds, likely what she’d considered wearing beneath that dress before deciding not to wear anything at all.
He swallowed a curse before glancing back at her sleeping form one more time.
Not one to linger, Atlas stared at her a minute longer, then shook his head, shoving a hand through his unkempt hair. “Sleep without dreams, Ever.”
Then he left, locking her apartment behind him, and wondering why Veros never used his magic to heal his sister’s broken soul.