Chapter 16
Sixteen
A tlas was lounging on the sofa in his study, his ankles kicked up on the table before him. He swirled the glass of honeyfire in his hand and stared at the cluttered mess of papers, pictures, and swatches of fabric strewn beneath his boots.
He was still stewing over everything that had happened the day before, his mood growing more bitter with each passing hour.
In his mind, he continued to replay the way Lord Tovian had kissed the inside of Everinne’s wrist and how she’d nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.
But worse was the image of her fighting to hold back her tears after he so callously insulted her.
Each time he closed his eyes, every time he blinked , all he saw was her face, and the pain he’d caused her.
Now, he was expected to sift through the preparations of hosting a ball.
He didn’t give a fuck what it looked like.
He didn’t care what kind of food was served, or what sort of flowers would be arranged.
It made no difference to him the songs that were played or if the theme was to his liking.
The entire ordeal felt less like a means of finding a wife and more like a march to his own death.
Without warning, the door of his study burst open, and Caedian darted into the room. His gray eyes were wild with a sheen of panic, but he snapped to attention immediately, tucking both of his hands behind his back.
Something about the look on his face set Atlas on edge, filled him with an unnatural sense of dread. He was on his feet in a second, his glass of honeyfire slipping from his grasp and shattering against the floor.
“What is it?”
“Your Imperial Highness, my soldiers have reported a disturbance at Everinne’s apartment. Her place is crawling with shadows.” Caedian’s throat bobbed and a tiny bead of sweat slid down his temple. “I think she’s in trouble.”
“Fuck.” Atlas swung his head towards the windows. The wind was fierce tonight, rattling the glass panes in their wooden sills. He could fly to her, but he’d be going against the currents. His wings would drag, and it would take longer to reach her apartment. “I’ll take the volt .”
Less than ten minutes later, the engine of his arcanic volt was revving through the streets of Starysa, spitting out flames of bright blue fire as he shifted the gears.
He gripped the handlebars, cutting smoothly around the corners while darting in and around other vehicles crowding the uneven road.
All the while, his thoughts ran through every possible worst-case scenario.
He never should’ve said such awful things to her.
He should’ve known it would send her into a spiral.
Atlas’s volt skidded to a stop in front of her apartment tower, the wheels shrieking against the rough stone.
He quickly shut it off and hopped down, powering up the steps to her apartment two at a time.
With every floor, the beating of his heart increased, anxiety rushing through him and flooding his veins with ice.
Fucking skies, it was taking forever to get to her.
He wrenched open her door with so much force, he nearly ripped it clean off the hinges, and drew up to a sudden halt.
Shock held him in place as he stared at the mass of power billowing within the walls of her home.
Silky black and shimmering violet shadows crawled over every surface in long, sinewy tendrils.
They moved like mist, slow and intentional, twisting and curling, making it nearly impossible to see.
The scent of her magic—midnight lilacs—permeated the air.
Lovely yet lethal. Wisps of black entwined with violet rose before him like a sheer barricade.
Some of the shadowy threads danced along his arm and cheek, as though inspecting him, then they gradually shifted to one side, allowing him to pass through.
Atlas took a cautious step into her kitchen. At least, he assumed it was still her kitchen.
“Everinne?” he called out softly so as to not startle her. “Everinne, where are you?”
He was met with no response.
Carefully, he closed the door behind him and ventured further into her home. He inhaled deeply, breathing through the heady fragrance of her magic, searching for the scent of her . He caught the faintest traces of warm caramel, rose, and black currant drifting from the back of the apartment.
Her room.
She was in her room.
Atlas moved carefully through her space, but in her bedroom, the strength of her magic seemed to magnify. He reached out blindly, feeling the cool touch of her power as it threaded between his fingers.
“Everinne?” He took another step when something purple glittered on the floorboards, catching his eye.
An amethyst ring.
Everinne’s amethyst ring.
The one she always wore, still on her limp, outstretched hand.
“Shit!” Atlas rushed to her side, dropping onto his knees next to her. “Ever? Can you hear me?”
He smoothed back some strands of tangled hair from her face, cupping her cheeks with both of his hands, and turned her head toward him.
Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted, but he thanked the gods that her skin was still warm to the touch.
He watched as her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths, felt the steady beating of her pulse in his own veins.
“Everinne, wake up.” He brushed his thumb lightly back and forth across her jaw. “I need you to wake up now.”
Still, she remained motionless.
Atlas raked a hand through his hair as uncertainty edged him toward desperation. There was only one thing he could do and know without a doubt it would work. He could only hope she’d be able to forgive him.
Gathering her into his arms, he gently nudged her sweater out of the way and placed his palm over her heart.
He calmed his mind and summoned his magic, closing his eyes as it flowed from him and into her.
Warmth ebbed and flowed between them, like the lulling waves of the sea always returning to kiss the shore.
His blood heated as his magic tenderly caressed her soul, seeking the source of her power. Of her pain.
On a sharp inhale, he ventured into her mind, sliding into her dreams.
It was far quieter than he expected. There were no chaotic thoughts or broken sobs of anguish.
Instead, he was greeted with a kind of melancholy, an almost unnatural stillness.
But it was dark, a vast swath of endless pitch.
Her magic pressed in on his own, surrounding him, almost curious in nature.
Ribbons of midnight and violet twirled around fibers of emerald and gold—the origin of his power—weaving an intricate tapestry of pleasure and pain.
Through the delicate balance, a pair of turquoise eyes found his own.
Relief flooded him when he saw her, his breath catching as her fingers softly grazed the blend of colors and magic spanning between them.
“There you are.” He took one guarded step toward her.
“Atlas?” Everinne’s voice was almost ethereal, his name a song that fell from her lips. “What are you doing here?”
He kept his movements slow and methodical. He couldn’t risk scaring her, not when he almost had her within his reach. “I came for you.”
She stared at him, lightly brushing the fibers of his power between her thumb and forefinger.
He shuddered in spite of himself.
When she didn’t respond, he took another step. Close. He was so close to her now. “I’m here to bring you back.”
“Back,” she repeated, her forehead scrunching as though she didn’t understand his intent.
“Yes.” One more step. One more breath. “To bring you back home. With me.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Atlas. It’s dangerous.” Everinne shook her head, her dark brown waves tumbling around her bare shoulders. Sadness haunted her gaze and she sighed. “I’m dangerous.”
No.
No, no.
He refused to leave her in the deepest recesses of her own mind, when he knew she wouldn’t be able to find her way back by herself.
“I’m not afraid of you.” He glanced around the lengthening shadows. “Or your magic.”
She blinked in surprise. “You’re not?”
“No, Everinne. I’m not.” Atlas raised his arm, uncurling his fingers one at a time. “Take my hand.”
She hesitated, scraping her teeth along her bottom lip. Her gaze remained focused on his outstretched hand and when she lifted her eyes to meet his, those captivating pools of turquoise ringed with gold held him spellbound. And he knew then he would go to the ends of the world for her.
“Come back, Wildheart.”
Her hand reached for his own, hovering above his open palm.
“Come back with me.” To me, he wanted to say.
Everinne placed her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together, and Atlas didn’t waste a second. He pulled her flush against him, withdrawing his magic and bringing Everinne back with him.
She was still in his lap on the floor of her room, and he quickly moved his hand from her heart to her shoulder.
The looming black and violet shadows receded, vanishing from sight as her power waned.
He continued to stare down at her, holding his breath, silently counting each second until her lashes fluttered open.
She looked up at him with sleepy, hooded eyes. “Atlas?”
“Yes, Wildheart?”
“Thank you for coming to get me.” Everinne relaxed against him, her body going pliant in his arms.
“You’re welcome.” His fingers idly toyed with a few fallen strands of her hair.
Her full lips pursed to one side. “I’m still mad at you.”
Finally, Atlas grinned, pulling her into a sitting position. He pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead. “I know.”
A deep, almost devastating sigh escaped her.
“Zoryana told me she can’t be seen with me anymore.
She said she has to go into hiding and made it sound like she was going to leave the city.
Perhaps even leave Prava.” She dropped her head onto his shoulder.
“I’m assuming it has to do with what you told me the other night, about immortals disappearing. ”
“It’s likely,” Atlas agreed. Zoryana was a notorious witch with the ability to absorb and harbor the emotions of those around her.
Not only that, but her coven was one of the most powerful within Prava’s borders.
It would stand to reason that they would conceal themselves and seek refuge elsewhere, especially if the situation became more out of hand.
“One of the vampires from Morvayne has gone missing, as well as a few other immortals. I’m afraid it’s becoming a more serious matter than I originally thought and the kralv refuses to do anything about it. ”
Everinne sat up then, moving away so she faced him fully. Her sweater dipped low but he ignored it, forcing himself to look into her eyes instead.
“Should I be worried?”
“No. I—Veros and I won’t let anything happen to you.” Atlas ran his hand along the back of his neck, hoping she wouldn’t implode with his next suggestion. “That being said, I know I can’t change your mind about working at the Mystic Obscura…”
She instantly stiffened, planting both hands behind her on the hardwood floor. Her brows narrowed, but he continued before she could interject.
“But,” he added quickly, “would you at least consider finding another form of employment? Preferably in a place not hidden away by a veil of glamour?”
Her nails tapped against the flooring, and she tilted her head so a tumble of dark waves fell around her.
“I’ll think about it. But the pay is good, and I need this job.
Besides, I’ve only worked there one night.
I need to stay for a few months to start.
It won’t look good if I bounce between jobs every couple of weeks. ”
Atlas didn’t even care, a win was a win. “So, you’ll consider it.”
“I’ll consider it.” She pushed up from the ground and planted her hands on her hips. She peered out the window of her bedroom where twilight was bleeding across the sky like spilled ink. “But I have to get ready or I’m going to be late.”
“Alright.” Atlas stood, dusting his hands on his pants. “But I’m going with you.”
She groaned then, rolling her eyes before pinning him with a hard stare. “And what will you do while I’m working?”
“The same thing I used to do when I frequented the place for a good time.” Her gaze darkened and he smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Sit in my suite with a carton of buttered rum popcorn and watch the show.”
Everinne crossed her arms in a silent challenge. “Fine.”
“Fine.” He smiled again. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Lovely,” she muttered, stomping over to her closet and rummaging through it.
She pulled the door wide so it concealed her from view, and the next thing he saw was the sweater she wore flying across the room.
It missed the bed, landing on the floor near his feet, and Atlas bit the inside of his cheek.
She draped a cropped black leather coat over her arm, then slowly eased back, peeking at him from the other side of the open door.
All he could see were glimpses of bare skin and the tingling sensation of desire rippled through him.
“Atlas?”
He kicked one ankle over the other as he watched her study him. “Yes, Wildheart?”
She rubbed her lips together, then glanced hastily about her bedroom. Her gaze landed on the floor where she’d been unconscious in his arms only minutes before. “Are you going to tell Veros about…the nightmare?”
“No.”
“You answered so fast this time.” Everinne’s lips curved, and she stepped out from behind the closet door in a pair of leggings and shiny red top covered in gold beads that showed off her toned stomach and the fullness of her breasts.
She pulled on a thick coat, it stopped just below her waist, and then slipped her hands into the pockets.
“Maybe you’re getting good at keeping secrets after all. ”
Atlas nodded. “Maybe.”
But this particular secret would be one he took to his grave.
Because there had only been one possible explanation for Atlas to be able to slip into her mind, there was only one reason he could hear her thoughts and join her dreams. It was something he had suspected for a while now, something he’d known but had refused to admit, even to himself.
Everinne Auvyre was his mate.