8. My Little Queen #2
The title echoed through my head long after he’d spoken it, settling into places I wasn’t prepared to examine too closely.
Atlas wasn’t a man who wasted words. He never had been.
Every promise, every threat, every declaration carried weight because he meant them.
And looking into his eyes now, seeing the certainty there, I knew this wasn’t some teasing remark thrown into the middle of an argument.
He meant it.
God help me, he actually meant it.
My pulse hammered against my ribs as I stared up at him, trying and failing to find some response that didn’t completely betray how thoroughly he’d just derailed every coherent thought in my head.
A few minutes ago, I’d been furious enough to throw him onto a marble floor.
Now I was sitting on his throne while he looked at me as though he could already see a future neither of us had dared speak aloud.
The worst part was that I wasn’t entirely sure I hated the idea, and that thought alone should have terrified me.
Atlas’s gaze never left mine. Something shifted in his expression as he watched the realization unfold across my face, and the frustration that had lingered there since the beginning of our argument finally seemed to disappear completely.
In its place came something softer, though no less intense, and somehow that proved far more dangerous.
I knew how to handle anger. Frustration, I could fight.
This?
This was unknown territory.
Slowly, his hand slid from my cheek into my hair, his fingers threading through the loose strands that had escaped during our chase.
The gesture was gentle, almost impossibly so for a man capable of tearing armies apart.
And yet there was still something possessive in it, something that made warmth spread through me.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as the man actually looked pleased with himself. He had every reason to be.
“You’re staring,” I stated, and I hated how breathless my voice sounded. As for Atlas, naturally, he looked entirely unapologetic.
“So are you,” he pointed out, and I opened my mouth to argue.
Nothing came out, and his smile widened.
Arrogant bastard.
A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest before he whispered my name over my lips, “My Alexandra.”
My breath caught as his hand tightened slightly in my hair, not enough to hurt, only enough to tilt my head back toward him, and suddenly all I could see was Atlas.
The gold in his eyes.
The shadow of stubble along his jaw.
The warmth in his expression existed for almost nobody else. Every instinct I possessed told me I should say something. Anything. A clever remark. An insult. A threat.
Something.
Instead, I sat there staring at him like an idiot, and Atlas seemed to find that deeply entertaining. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes, and whatever he saw there must have satisfied him because the last of his amusement softened into something far more tender.
Then he kissed me.
The contact was gentle. Not demanding or possessive, just warm.
A quiet apology for the misunderstanding and a promise that neither of us had to say aloud.
The tension that had been wound between us since Theron first entered the conversation seemed to unravel all at once, carrying away the anger and frustration until all that remained was relief.
Relief that he’d never thought that of me.
Relief that I’d finally listened long enough to understand what he’d actually meant.
Relief that despite everything we’d shouted at each other tonight, we’d somehow found our way back here.
When he finally pulled away, neither of us moved immediately. I remained seated on the throne, slightly breathless and entirely too aware of him, while Atlas rested his forehead briefly against mine.
“Feel better?” he murmured, and I narrowed my eyes.
“Ask me again after I’ve decided whether to forgive you.” I lied, and he knew it, as his laugh filled the throne room.
Jesus Christ, I loved that sound far more than was healthy, and it secretly bordered on obsession. And I swear he knew, as the smile lingering on his face was infuriatingly smug. But then he straightened and offered me his hand, looking altogether too satisfied with how this conversation had ended.
I should have known better, as the moment I placed my hand in his, Atlas’s eyes gleamed with a new idea, and I suddenly became very suspicious.
But that was to be my lesson learned, as I should have trusted my instincts. Because the moment that look appeared in his eyes, the one that always seemed to arrive shortly before he did something I was going to object to, I should have immediately started running again.
By the time I realized exactly what he was planning, it was already too late.
The hand still holding mine tightened slightly before Atlas gave a single tug, pulling me from the throne with enough force that I stumbled directly into him.
I barely had time to protest before one arm wrapped around my waist, and the floor abruptly disappeared beneath me.
“Atlas!” I cried out his name as my stomach dropped.
The idiot just chuckled as he threw me over his shoulder. The world tilted alarmingly as I found myself staring at the floor, my hair tumbling around my face while Atlas adjusted his hold on me. As though carrying furious women around the palace was something he did every day as standard.
Outrage immediately replaced surprise.
“Put me down right now!” I demanded, and yet Atlas started walking.
“Atlas. I mean it!”
Nothing.
“Atlas. Damn it!”
The man had the audacity to ignore me completely.
I twisted, attempting to free myself, but his arm merely tightened around the backs of my legs, securing me against his shoulder with infuriating ease.
Being carried like this should have been humiliating.
It probably was humiliating. The problem was that Atlas seemed entirely unaffected by my indignation, continuing across the throne room.
Then down the corridor with the relaxed confidence of a man who had already decided the outcome of this situation and saw no reason to discuss it further.
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” I complained.
“Mm,” he muttered, and I swear my left eye started twitching.
“That wasn’t an agreement,” I pointed out.
“It wasn’t intended to be,” he replied with infuriating calm. One that came from a King who could do whatever he wished with me. The one he had claimed as his queen… Jesus, I was fucked!
I made an incoherent noise of frustration and smacked his back, yet Atlas didn’t even flinch. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely convinced he felt pain anymore.
“Seriously, come on, put me down.” I tried again, opting for calm this time.
“No. I think not.”
I scoffed incredulously before arguing, “You can’t just kidnap me.”
“I’m king.” Was his dirty response to this, making me frown down at the floor.
“That isn’t how laws work.”
“It is when you’re the one making them.”
Well damn, he had me there, and he knew it, as he laughed.
The sound only made him more unbearable.
But determined not to surrender with what little dignity I still possessed, I shifted again, attempting to wriggle free.
It was a terrible decision. The movement earned me a sharp swat on the backside that echoed through the corridor, immediately freezing every coherent thought in my head.
My mouth literally fell open…. like a guppy. A very pissed-off, shocked guppy. Because seriously, the nerve of this man!
I lifted myself up slightly, pushing against his lower back to glare at him upside down.
“Did you seriously just smack my ass?”
“Why? Did you enjoy it, little bird?”
He looked down to his side, where my face dangled, and I made a strange, strangled noise that was anything but dignified.
“So, what exactly is your plan here? What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what I should have done from the beginning.”
The smug satisfaction in his voice was enough to make me seriously consider throwing him onto the floor for a second time, only this time onto a bed of nails, because surely someone had one in this kingdom.
“Again, I hate you.”
“And once again, no, you don’t.” Was his quick, amused reply.
“Fine, I don’t, I love you, but that doesn’t mean I like you right now,” I said, repeating my previous statement, and he laughed.
“Then, lucky for you, I know just how to change that.”
The smug bastard sounded far too certain of that fact, and I wasn’t surprised, as he could feel for himself how much it made me squirm over his shoulder.
The corridor stretched ahead of us as Atlas continued walking, seemingly unconcerned by my threats and complaints, or my repeated attempts to convince him that carrying me around like a sack of potatoes was deeply inappropriate royal behavior.
Every now and then, a servant would appear in the distance, take one look at the scene unfolding before them, and immediately decide they had somewhere else to be.
Honestly, I couldn’t blame them.
Eventually, I huffed out an annoyed breath and let my head hang slightly.
“Okay, so where exactly are you taking me, oh mighty king?”
Atlas’s hand adjusted fractionally against the backs of my legs as he continued walking without breaking stride. The movement was almost absent-minded, yet strangely careful all the same, and for a moment I wondered if he’d even answer.
Then his voice drifted down to me.
“Where I’ve wanted to take you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
The words sent an entirely different kind of awareness through me, and I swear my stomach performed an alarming little flip.
Slowly, I lifted my head.
“And… erm… Where’s that?” I stammered out.
A smile appeared in Atlas’s voice before it ever reached his face.
When he finally glanced back over his shoulder, the expression waiting there was equal parts victorious, amused, and entirely too handsome for his own good.
Especially when he said…
“My bedchamber.”