Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
“ A tlas.”
There was a tremor in Everinne’s voice, a waver that set Atlas’s nerves on edge, and then she did the unthinkable. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.
Atlas stilled.
His Everinne wasn’t soft. She wasn’t an abundance of spring flowers or afternoon garden walks.
She was wildfire, she was stolen kisses during the witching hour and dark satin sheets.
Yet in this moment, she was somehow delicate.
Like the fragile petals of a late blooming rose right before the first frost.
Atlas eased back, his wings vanishing, and he carefully stroked a hand down her hair.
“Hey,” he murmured when she didn’t lift her face to his. “What’s wrong? Why are you?—”
His question died on the tip of his tongue as the assault on his senses fully registered. The smell hit him first. Musty rot, stagnant air, the metallic tang of stale blood.
The dungeon.
Acid roiled in his stomach and his blood froze, stopping his heart as an all too familiar underlying stench taunted him. Sulfur and smoke. The reek of his father.
If that prick hurt her, if he touched her, if he even looked at her the wrong way, Atlas vowed right then and there that he would kill him. Blood or not.
Atlas grabbed Everinne’s shoulders, and this time her head fell back when she looked up at him.
He saw it in her eyes first, the shadowy threads of fear mixing with the pools of turquoise and ribbons of gold.
Her breathing was even, but there was the faintest hitch, as though she’d been trying to keep it under control.
And he didn’t miss the way she bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
“What did he do to you?” Atlas demanded, searching her face for the answers he sought.
Her eyes widened, the shadows in them expanding. “I…”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, and don’t you dare cover for that bastard.
” His hands skated up over her shoulders to her neck, where his thumbs gently grazed the smooth line of her perfect jaw.
“Traces of his stench linger in your hair. And I can smell the stink of the dungeon as well. So, I am going to ask one more time, what did he do to you?”
That bottom lip of hers quivered again, but the lie fell from her with ease. “Nothing.”
He inhaled slowly, stealing a calming breath, then reached for the bond between them.
He could envision the luminous thread, imagine how it moved like shimmery ribbons of silk between his fingers as he twirled it, wove it, gradually tugging her closer to him.
Everinne gasped then, barely even audible over the beating of her heart, but the sound of it caused his blood to hum.
She shivered against him while he soothed and caressed the strand of fate binding them, as he eased the haunting darkness from her eyes.
Her hands found his arms and held, lashes fluttering as her gaze fastened to his mouth.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
A tiny frown formed between her brows. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Atlas, you don’t understand.” She shook her head and tried to pull away from him, but he held her slender neck with both hands, and a sigh of frustration escaped her. “I can’t tell you. I can never tell you.”
His temper boiled, scalding him from the inside out. “Why the fuck not?”
He would not tolerate secrets between them.
Not if she was to be his wife, and certainly not since she’d acknowledged him as her mate.
If his snake of a father had anything to do with this, if he’d threatened Everinne or forced her into any kind of unjust bargain, Atlas would shove his finest blade down Oldrich’s throat.
Without warning, Everinne’s voice, sultry and pleading, infiltrated his thoughts.
“Because he’ll hurt you. He’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt Veros.” The promise of tears clung to her lower lashes, but they did not fall. She rubbed her lips together once, tightening her grip on his arms. “He will cause pain and suffering to everyone I love, and he’ll use me to do it.”
Love.
Atlas filed that word away for later.
He stared at her, absorbing her earnest expression, the way her plea for him to understand echoed through his mind.
He slid two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up just slightly, tracing the full curve of her lips with his eyes.
Her quick intake of breath was exactly what he’d been hoping to find.
“That’s why,” he muttered quietly. His other hand fell away from her neck, moving to her waist instead to pull her closer so every breath of space was occupied by the press of their bodies against one another.
“That’s why you refused me the night of the ball.
Why you so adamantly denied the bond even though you knew it to be true. ”
A single tear slipped free from the corner of her eye, proof of her reasoning.
Of course.
It was all so damn clear now, he’d been a fool not to realize it sooner.
“You don’t want him to know.” Atlas’s hand cupped the side of her face, and he lowered his head so his nose grazed her ear where the amethyst studs sparkled. He feathered a few kisses along her ear, all the way to the tip, and she melted into him. “Were you trying to protect me, Wildheart?”
She huffed in annoyance and he grinned. “I was trying to protect everyone. Not just you.”
“But maybe especially me?” he countered smoothly.
“Atlas.” Everinne smacked him soundly on the chest, rearing back. “This isn’t a game. It’s more dangerous than you could ever think.”
His smile vanished. “Ask me if I care.”
She crossed her arms, a line of concern wedging its way across her brow, and her eyes flashed in agitation. That plump bottom lip stuck out again, and she wet it. Her sulking was definitely not having the desired effect.
“If he hurts you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“And if he hurts you,” Atlas growled, snaring her pouty lip with his teeth until she yelped, arching into him, “I’ll end his fucking life.”
His mouth slashed across hers in a hungry kiss, his tongue seeking entry along the seam of her lips.
She opened for him willingly, let him taste and explore and claim.
Everinne went pliant in his arms, her lush body molding against his like she was made for him, like she’d been crafted from the very temptation of nightfall itself.
She was the blur between worlds, when the sun was at its weakest but the moon was not yet high, she was the rise of dusk. The twilight hour.
She sighed into his mouth, filling his lungs with warm caramel, dark roses, and blackcurrant. Her scent teased his tongue, and he wanted to unravel every layer of her.
“I need your help,” she murmured, breaking their kiss.
“Anything.” Atlas would give her the world. “Whatever you need.”
She met his gaze and held. “My friend is in the dungeon. I need to get her out.”
“Okay.” He’d already decided right then he would never deny her, he would give until his heart gave out, bleed for her until all that remained of him was bones and ash. No matter what she asked of him, he would oblige, and she would always know she could depend on him.
Everinne blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. “You didn’t even think about it.”
The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “I didn’t have to, I will never refuse you.”
Whatever concern or wariness still warring inside her faded away. Her features softened, and the bond warmed, securing snugly around his heart.
“You must understand,” Everinne said quietly, a glimmer of hope rising in her voice, “we’re not just freeing her from the dungeon, but the Mystic Obscura as well.”
A needle of apprehension prodded at Atlas’s spine. Blood magic was tricky, it could be tracked and traced. “If she’s given Reine a drop of her blood, there is nowhere we can take her that she will be safe.”
Everinne’s brow arched, her mouth tugged to one side in a smart little smirk, and her eyes glittered with mischief.
That look. Atlas had seen that look a thousand times before.
Wild and spirited, it was the same one she wore whenever she indulged in reckless decisions, when all warning of caution and care were lost to her.
“There’s one place she can go.” Everinne held up her finger like she was about to spill a coveted secret. “But we’ll need Veros’s help.”
The Astralplane.
Veros was the only one who could access the magical plane between worlds, he was the only one who could walk between space and time.
It was guarded by wards that had been in place since the fall of the Ancient Ones, its archaic charms some of the most complex.
And Veros alone could move through them.
Atlas captured Everinne’s chin. “I have a mind to leave you there as well until all of this is over.”
She rolled her sparkling eyes. “As if I would listen to you.”
Atlas couldn’t help it, he kissed her soundly on the mouth once more.
Her fingers fisted into his shirt, and she reluctantly pulled away. “So, you’ll help me get her out?”
“Of course.” His gaze slid to the glass doors leading out to the verandah where the snow continued to fall. “We’ll miss the lighting of the bonfire.”
They both knew what it might mean if they failed to make an appearance at the Zemni Boheme.
“It’s worth the risk.” Everinne shrugged then, but there was tension in her movements, and her back pulled taut against his palm. “Perhaps your father will forgive us if he thinks you were putting your talents to good use.”
Atlas bent down and nipped her ear. “I have other talents.”
“Oh, really?” She drew the last syllable out so it thrummed in her throat and he pressed his mouth to her pulse, pleased when it jumped against his touch.
“Yes. Perhaps I’ll show you sometime.” He grabbed her hand and kissed each one of her knuckles. “Let’s go find Veros. Then we can save your friend.”
Everinne rose on her toes and Atlas sealed his promise with a kiss.