Chapter 14
Fourteen
“ A tlas!” Everinne shouted, squirming in his hold. If she wasn’t careful, she’d slip from his grip completely. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down right now!”
He ignored her and tightened his grasp on her waist, pressing her into the heat of his body.
“ATLAS!”
“That’s right, Ever,” he whispered into her ear, his lips moving lightly across the amethyst studs piercing the pretty little pointed tip. “Scream my name again.”
She fell silent and still, her lips parting slightly as she stared at him with those mesmerizing eyes.
He’d shocked her. Good.
At least that would shut her up for a minute.
His wings rippled and shifted through the stiff breeze as he flew with her over Starysa.
Everinne had one arm around his neck while her other hand was fisted into the front of his shirt.
Gray winter clouds sifted past them, the stiff breeze sending her dark hair fluttering in every direction.
Her pale blue sweater slipped dangerously low down her shoulder, revealing the perfect swell of lightly tanned flesh hidden just beneath.
Atlas focused on catching the currents, instead of the way her body felt crushed against his own.
“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked.
“Home.”
She huffed, her warm breath tickling the underside of his chin. “I could’ve gotten a ride myself.”
“And I could’ve let you.”
But fuck if his raging jealousy hadn’t gotten the better of him. He had no idea why he went after her once she fled the dining hall. All he knew was that if Lord Tovian touched or kissed her one more time, he would set fire to the whole of his city.
“So, you chose to scoop me up into the air and fly me back so I could freeze to death?” Everinne snuggled closer, burying her face in his chest. “Sounds noble of you.”
Atlas inhaled sharply, regretting his decision in the next moment.
The delicious scent of her, warm caramel layered between rose and black currant, enveloped him.
Heat spread through him, pinpricks of desire chasing the sensation.
His jaw locked into place. This was Everinne.
She was maddening. Infuriating. After that one fateful night where he’d humiliated her beyond all repair, he’d spent years avoiding her, frequenting parlors and venues where he knew she wouldn’t dare step foot in the door.
Only to have her in his arms two days in a fucking row.
Mother Goddess…curse him now.
“Do you really have to get married?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
Regret gnawed at him. “Yes.”
“Mm.” She peered up at him. “Pity that.”
Annoyance fired through him, and he swooped down through the clouds until the rooftop of her apartment came into view. “It’s not my choice.”
He was being bent to his father’s will. Again.
“I’m sure it’s not.”
Her fake smile caused his teeth to grind.
“I wouldn’t imagine the prince of pleasure would be too happy about having to give up his most favorite activity.”
Atlas grabbed her chin, forcing her face upward, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He wouldn’t dare tell Everinne about the first time he took a lover, he wouldn’t mention how that female was the one who snuck away from his bed before dawn broke.
She told anyone who would listen about the size of his cock, the skill of his tongue, and how his magic rendered her useless after a night of seemingly endless orgasms. The next thing Atlas knew, females from all over the city were flocking to him like bees to honey, desperate for a chance to share his bed.
At first he was cocky, thinking his looks and charm had something to do with their sudden interest. But what he thought was flattery soon became gross obsession coupled with vile lies.
It was then his reputation had branded him.
It was then he realized he would have to discard females before they could discard him.
“Oh, really?” Everinne jerked away from his grasp, her eyes full of turquoise fire, the gold in them sparking like flames. “So, you don’t seek out a new female every week?”
He glared at her. “More like every night.”
Her lips curled in disgust. “How lucky for them.”
Now it was Atlas’s turn to smile. “You sound jealous, Wildheart.”
“Not as jealous as you when Lord Tovian took an interest in me,” she spat, fueling his anger.
“Yeah, and you crawled toward his affection like a cat in heat,” Atlas snapped. “Next time, just ask him to bend you over the table. It’d be far less shameful.”
The sting of her hand against his cheek hit so hard, he almost dropped her.
She yanked her arm from around his neck, then bunched both of her hands into fists against his chest. “You fucking bastard.”
“No.” Atlas shook his head and dove between two buildings toward her apartment. “You don’t get to act like your feelings are hurt. You don’t get to call me a whore, then not expect any kind of backlash for your own behavior.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Everinne muttered.
“And what’s that?” he asked, more annoyed than he cared to admit.
But when she looked up at him again, there was an unfamiliar sheen in her eyes.
Fuck.
She was going to cry.
“I know you’re not a whore, Atlas. Do you think I’m blind?
Do you think I’m stupid? I know the reason you act the way you do, and it has nothing to do with your magic and everything to do with how your father, and everyone else for that matter, treats you.
” She bit her bottom lip, blinking hastily.
“I said those things because I knew you could take it. Because that’s what we do.
I tease you about your sexual encounters and you scorn me about my rash and sometimes questionable decisions. ”
Her breath hitched, and by the time he landed on her balcony, she was scrambling to get out of his arms.
“But you…” She shook her head, tucking some dark, fallen waves behind one ear. “You wanted to hurt me. You intentionally wanted to make me feel devalued and worthless. So, congratulations, Your Imperial Highness. You succeeded.”
Somehow, hearing his proper title instead of the more annoying one she gave him hurt more than any insult tossed his way. “Everinne, I?—”
She held up one hand, backing away from him. Never before had she looked at him with such hate. Such contempt. “Don’t waste your breath on me.”
“Ever, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“Save your apologies for someone who cares.” Then she disappeared into her apartment and slammed the glass door behind her so soundly that it rattled.
“Great work, Skye,” Atlas mumbled to himself, his wings catching the breeze to take him back to the palace. “Now you’re the prince of fuckups as well.”
He landed in the gardens, preferring to avoid having a conversation with anyone, which made no difference to Caedian, who leaned against the far wall, watching him from beneath an overhang of frostbitten trees.
Furious with himself, Atlas stalked through the gardens, kicking loose stones and mumbling any number of vulgar obscenities.
It was probably best for Everinne to continue to hate him, for them to despise the presence of one another.
Anything else was far too complicated. Eventually, his pace slowed and his frustration ebbed, so he found himself wandering near the pond where bushes of wild roses bloomed.
For as long as he could remember, they’d always been his mother’s favorite.
The petals changed with the seasons—soft pink in spring, vibrant turquoise in the summer, deep red in the autumn, and snowy white in the winter.
Their scent was sweet, lightly floral and enchanting.
Such a beautiful flower for such a beautiful soul.
He lowered himself onto one of the large gray stones near the water’s edge and pulled the crumpled pack of stigs from his pocket. Sticking one between his lips, he sought his lighter next, and the blue flame flared to life.
Atlas inhaled, then blew out a puff of smoke. The smell of skullcap and passionflower floated around him, before it was replaced by the scent of inky papers, earth, and leather.
He took another drag of his stig, then asked, “What do you want, Auvyre?”
Veros strolled out from behind a row of evergreen bushes. “Care to tell me what all that was about?”
Atlas only stared at him in return.
“You know, the part where you were seething with jealousy because some fae lord swept my sister off her feet?” Veros reached up, plucking an evergreen leaf off one of the nearby trees.
He twirled the tiny stem between his fingers, then let it fall to the ground.
“And then when she left, you proceeded to go after her?”
Atlas took another drag of his stig, wishing the pounding ache between his temples would go away.
His head was throbbing—he should’ve known better than to drink so early in the day.
But he was definitely going to need a shot of honeyfire if he stood any chance of making it through this conversation.
“I’m pretty sure you were in the same room as me,” he answered, unable to hide the bitterness seeping into his tone. “She practically threw herself at him.”
Veros straightened, rolling his shoulders back. He adjusted the sleeves of his coat, flicking both of his wrists in unison. His tone was cooler than normal as he said, “With all due respect, Your Imperial Highness, my sister’s behavior is none of your concern.”
“It is when she’s inside the walls of my palace,” Atlas countered, pinching his stig between his thumb and forefinger, flicking away the ash.
Veros watched him with measured indifference, his face a mask of his emotions. The master of the hour was always calm. Always collected. “Eventually, Everinne will find a husband. And when she does, he’ll be the one to take care of her and protect her.”