Chapter Thirty
Thirty
Tegan
“Am I going to learn all of your deepest, darkest secrets tonight?” I asked Atlas.
He grimaced, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Knowing Fallon, probably.”
We were on our way to the highly anticipated game night with his friends. I’d already met Fallon, and I grew up with Kael, but Cyrus was who I was really looking forward to meeting.
Atlas pulled the truck into the parking lot of the Foundry. It was another product of the mayor’s revitalization initiative, an old manufacturing facility that was converted into a swanky apartment building last year.
“I didn’t know anyone actually lives here,” I said, remembering the decrepit building of my childhood.
“I think it’s Cyrus and Fallon and a few other big-city transplants.” He paused for a second, obviously thinking before he asked, “Does it ever bother you that more people are moving to Briar Glenn?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. It’s been good for business, and I love seeing new faces around town. In fact, there’s one face I particularly enjoy.”
He leaned over the center console, his lips twitching with a smile. “Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm,” I said, reaching out to him.
I ran my fingers through the soft fur on his face, giving it a gentle tug to pull him closer to me. The cool tip of his nose touched mine and we angled our faces, pressing our lips together in a series of slow kisses that made my heart pound in my ears.
“Tegan.” He said my name in a growl that rattled right through me.
I pulled away to stare into his full-moon eyes, placing a soft kiss on his nose before letting him go.
“Ready?” I asked, flipping down the visor to check my makeup.
“Well, I was,” he grumbled, shifting in his seat. “But we have to wait a few seconds now.”
That got my attention.
I flipped the visor back up, my gaze traveling down his body to the tented area of his gym shorts. “You’re going to have to wait until later for that.”
“Is that a promise?” he asked, ears perking up.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
Which was a code word for definitely.
While we were waiting for Atlas’s not-so-little problem to resolve itself, I peered out the window.
“It looks fancy,” I said, taking in the sleek black balconies enclosed with frosted glass and the sprawling sea of ivy creeping up the brick wall.
“Wait until you see the inside. It’s really nice.” Atlas shifted in his seat again. “All right, I think I’m good now.”
Before I even had my seat belt unbuckled, he was out of the truck and opening the passenger door, holding a massive hand out to me.
“You don’t need to keep doing this,” I said, grabbing hold of his hand, hopping out of the truck. “I’m perfectly capable of getting out myself.”
“I know you are, but I want to do this for you.” Still holding my hand, he tugged me to him, making my breath hitch. “So let me do it,” he whispered.
“Okay.” It came out soft and compliant, because that’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? Someone to take control. To do things for me without having to ask.
That was what I had with Atlas.
Staring down at me, he threaded his fingers through mine, bringing our joined hands to his lips.
Atlas gave me one last smile before leading me toward the entrance of the apartment building. He pressed a button on the intercom labeled Ridgewing/Jennings.
There was a beat of static before a high-pitched whistle sounded from the speaker.
“Who is this absolute cutie standing on my doorstep?” Fallon said.
Assuming he meant me, I looked up at the tiny camera next to the doorframe, giving it a friendly wave. “Hi, Fallon. How are you?”
“Better now,” he chirped. I laughed, imagining he was winking one of his beady bird eyes when he said it. He was over-the-top, corny, and bro-ish, but he was cute in a way. I’d never admit it to Atlas, though.
Speaking of Atlas. “Can you let us in already?” he growled.
“On it,” Fallon said.
A tiny beep sounded, followed by the whir of the automatic lock. Atlas opened the door and ushered us inside.
The interior of the building was just as nice as the outside, modern and industrial, with Edison bulbs and exposed ductwork. A brick wall ran along one side of the foyer, and an old-fashioned metal-frame freight elevator was on the other. It had to be original to the building.
“Maybe we should take the stairs—” I suggested. I wasn’t afraid of elevators, but this wasn’t a normal elevator.
“Come on,” Atlas said, softly tugging me along. “It’s refurbished. It’s safe.”
“You swear?” I asked skeptically.
“I swear. I would never let anything happen to you,” he whispered. He nuzzled my temple, placing a reassuring kiss there. “Do you want to press the button?” he asked like I was five.
“Yes,” I replied, because of course I wanted to push it.
I hit the P button and a second later the metal door clanked open.
I didn’t even have time to second-guess my life choices before Atlas pulled me inside. With one hand preoccupied with my death grip, he used the other to press the up button.
As the metal doors clinked shut, he pulled me in front of him, wrapping his arms around me tight. “Feel any safer?” he asked, his breath tickling the shell of my ear as he curled himself around me.
“A lot, actually.” I gripped his forearms, grounding myself with his touch. It was like being wrapped in a weighted blanket—a giant, furry weighted blanket.
“Good.” The word rumbled out of his chest and into mine, distracting me from the fact that we were riding an antiquated deathtrap to the top floor of the apartment building. Correction—almost distracting me.
The elevator lurched to a stop, the doors clanking open.
“We made it out alive,” Atlas said, leading me off the elevator.
“This time,” I grumbled.
It was obvious that Cyrus and Fallon had some sort of penthouse, because there was only one door on this floor. Without knocking, Atlas walked inside the apartment, and I followed behind him.
Just like Atlas said, the apartment was gorgeous. Bright and modern with an exposed brick wall on one side—just like the foyer. Several paintings hung in the hallway, breathtaking landscapes that transported you right into the scene.
Atlas noticed me staring at them. “Do you like the paintings?” he asked.
“Yes. They’re gorgeous.”
“Cyrus painted those.”
“All of them?” I asked.
“All of them.”
“He’s really talented.” One painting in particular caught my eye.
It was a lighthouse on a craggy cliff weathering a dark storm.
Painted with rough, textured strokes, the foamy waves almost leapt off the canvas.
I fought the urge to reach out and run my fingers over them.
Touching ridiculously expensive paintings was probably frowned upon.
Not exactly the type of first impression I wanted to make.
“Was really talented,” a suave British accent chimed in from the end of the hall. “I’ve been experiencing a bit of a creative block as of late.”
“This is Cyrus,” Atlas said, gesturing to his friend.
Cyrus shuffled down the hall toward us, his tentacles sucking and popping as they propelled him across the tile floor.
His muscular chest was uncovered, tapering to a waist of six tentacles.
Eight, if I counted the ones wrapped around his arms. His head was long and pointed—almost like a squid’s—and delicate translucent fins lined both sides of his neck.
He was a beautiful light blue color, with darker blue-green tiger stripes running across his body and his tentacles.
I did my best not to stare, but Cyrus was the first kraken I’d ever met.
In a society where monsters and humans were the norm, there were still certain species that were rare. Krakens were one of them.
Cyrus blinked his wide alien eyes and smiled, showing off two perfect rows of piranha-sharp teeth. “Lovely to meet you, Tegan,” he said, extending a webbed hand out to me.
I took it, giving it a gentle shake. His palm was soft and cool, not at all like what I expected.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, grinning at him.
We followed Cyrus down the hall to the open kitchen and living area. Wide windows stretched across the walls, giving us a beautiful view of the sun setting over Briar Glenn.
Fallon and Kael were in the living room, sitting in plush recliners on either side of the sectional couch. In front of them was the biggest TV I’d ever seen.
“You already know Fallon and Kael,” Atlas said.
“Hey, Tegan,” Kael said, tipping his head.
He was a big orc, tall and muscular just like Atlas. It made sense that he’d work out at a place like Leviathan Fitness. I’d known Kael since we were kids, and while we weren’t exactly close, we hung around with the same crowd back in high school.
“Tegan!” Fallon hopped out of his chair, wrapping me in a friendly hug. “Thank you so much for coming over.” His lionlike tail flicked back and forth excitedly. It was cute, but not nearly as cute as Atlas’s tail wags.
“Thank you for having me!”
“It’s our pleasure,” Cyrus said. “Have a seat.”
Atlas, Cyrus, and I sat on the couch while Fallon plucked through a stack of video game cases sitting on the TV stand.
“Tegan said she’s not very good at video games, so I was thinking we could start out with something beginner friendly like Mario Kart,” Fallon suggested.
Kael opened his mouth to say something, but I shot him a look.
He knew my secret, and until I had a little fun, I wanted to keep it that way.
When I told Fallon I wasn’t good at video games, I meant first-person shooters, or whatever it was that people played these days. I was not referring to Mario Kart.
I’d cut my teeth on Mario Kart 64, spending my summers locked in front of the TV, racing my brother and his friends. Kael had seen me come in first place race after race, year after year. It got to a point with our friend group where I wouldn’t be acknowledged as the winner, second place was.
But these guys had no idea what they were in for.