Chapter 24 When All Control Is Lost
Ididn’t know what I expected would happen when I ran, but it wasn’t surprising when I heard the thundering of booted feet behind me. The sound was heavy and fast, the leather stretching around his larger form, yet it didn’t slow him down.
I snaked through the trees, dodging branches and low roots, desperate to get away, because I honestly didn’t know what he would do when he reached me.
Would there be enough of Atlas left inside the monster to remember why he had tuned into this uncontrollable rage to begin with?
Would he remember that the blood dripping down my neck was what had caused it?
I felt foolish for being the reason, and even more foolish knowing I might die because of it.
Hell, forget foolish… I was downright terrified.
If I thought I had reason to fear Atlas when he was just The General to me, before I knew he was King, then this was something else entirely, a whole new level of terror.
The pain at my neck pulsed gently, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream, that Atlas and I were still very much alive.
Branches clawed at my arms as I whipped past, thorns scraping my clothes and hair.
I tried to look ahead while glancing behind, the combination doing me no favors.
Though I had a small head start, I could see him gaining ground, and fast.
In the end, it didn’t matter. My boot caught on a raised root, and I went down hard, crashing over a fallen log. I barely had time to roll onto my back before the light between the trees vanished. Sunlight was swallowed by the shadow of his form as he landed on top of me.
The impact drove the breath from my lungs.
His body caged me in, trapping me beneath him as a deep, guttural snarl ripped from his chest. If I had thought my fight with the werewolf was bad, that was nothing compared to what now loomed above me.
The creature before me looked as though he could have torn that werewolf in two with his bare hands… no silver required.
His crimson stare held me captive. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, because I knew what else I would see if I allowed them to venture.
Protruding bone. Stone-like skin that was cracked and bleeding along the seams. As though a man still lived beneath, a body of flesh and bone trapped under the impenetrable shell his rage had forged.
His fangs gleamed in the dim light, sharp and hungry, ready to tear into my throat.
The bloodlust was there to see in his eyes.
I knew I only had one shot at this if I had any hope of bringing him back because clearly, running had been a mistake.
I should have known better. I should have shown strength, even if it was only a facade.
By running, I had given him the chase, made myself the prey, and him the hunter.
That primal instinct within him had clicked into place, leaving him no choice but to follow, no way to fight against what his nature demanded.
Now, if I wanted to survive, I had to do the opposite. I had to submit, to show him I was not a threat, to remind him that he was in control. I had to give myself willingly. I had to make a connection to show him that he would regret this, that I was not the enemy.
So, I did the only thing I could think of doing.
I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side, baring my wounded neck to him.
Then I held my breath, waiting, breathless with fear.
There were only two possible outcomes. He would either take this show of submission and find it enough to satisfy his instincts…
or he would tear out my throat. And if he did, I would not be able to fight him.
But there was a third outcome I hadn’t considered.
A low sound escaped him, half growl, half wounded groan, before he buried his face against my neck.
I flinched, bracing for pain that never came.
Instead, his breath came in deep, shuddering waves, drawing me in like he was trying to remember my scent.
To anchor himself to who he had been and not the monster he had become.
Another soft whine broke from him as he sniffed at my blood, before he then did the unthinkable. He licked a line clean across my cut skin, tasting my blood. What came next was even more shocking as a rumbling purr emanated from him.
He continued to do this as I held myself perfectly still, the pain of my wound easing with every swipe of his tongue, as if his saliva was healing me. This continued until he was satisfied, and it was only when he pulled back enough to look down at me that I dared to lift a trembling hand.
My fingers found the side of his face. A face I barely recognized anymore. The moment my skin touched his, I felt it ripple through him, like a wave of energy spreading beneath the surface. The hard, stone-like texture softened under my palm, his whole body trembling as if fighting itself.
I opened my eyes, and what I saw stole my breath.
Magic shimmered over him, a celestial light so bright I had to squint.
The harsh, monstrous edges of his features began to blur, reforming into something human again.
The cracks of granite faded into warm flesh, the red glow in his eyes dimming to molten gold before fading to the darkness I was used to.
And then, finally, the man I knew was looking down at me. The shock in his eyes was almost childlike, pure and raw, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
I would have asked why he looked so astonished, but before I could speak, he whispered, voice rough with awe,
“Never. Never before did I think it was possible. You calmed my rage. You brought me back… with just a touch.” The wonder in his tone made my throat tighten. I swallowed hard, lifting my other hand so that I could cradle his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.
“I’ll always bring you back. Always bring you back to me,” I whispered.
The confession of his love from earlier lingered unspoken between us, hovering like electricity in the air. And after the words I had just spoken, there was only one thing left in his mind. He lowered his head, eyes locked on mine, and then, finally…
The King sealed his promise with a kiss.
This time, when Atlas kissed me, it wasn’t like our first, a fleeting moment, the soft, tentative whisper of lips meeting for the first time. No, this time, it was explosive. It was raw, unrestrained, the kind of kiss that came from fire, and grief, and desire, all colliding into one.
He took my breath away, stole it completely, and the sound that left me came out as a cry caught between pleasure and disbelief.
One he swallowed like a promise. It felt as though the rage that had consumed him moments ago had been transformed into pure, undiluted lust. And I knew which of the two I preferred, because I felt the same.
Every piece of clothing became unbearable, too hot, too tight, too much.
I wanted to feel everything. The earth, the leaves, the press of his body against mine.
I didn’t care if twigs bit into my skin or if the forest floor scraped me raw.
If anything, it would have grounded me, anchored me to this wild, impossible moment that felt too vivid to belong to reality.
He kissed me like he wanted to brand his soul into mine, to memorize every nuance.
My taste, my breath, the tiny, unguarded sounds I made as he devoured my mouth.
Gone was the cool restraint, the royal composure, the slow deliberation.
There was only hunger now, deep and consuming.
Every kiss, every glide of his hands told me that control was now a forgotten concept.
His fingers fisted the fabric at my waist, tightening it against my body as if it offended him by existing.
In one swift, decisive movement, he tore my shirt upward over my head and threw it aside.
Before I could even gasp, the forest floor met my back, cool and solid, and his arms closed around me, pulling me flush against the hard planes of his chest.
“Gods,” he muttered against my mouth, his voice a rough prayer. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His words shuddered through me, his lips parting from mine just long enough for air to fill my lungs again.
Somehow, he seemed to know what my body needed before I did, guiding it with sure, deliberate touches. I was powerless to resist, not that I wanted to.
I could hardly believe it was happening. That, after everything, he still wanted me, needed me like this. But every time doubt whispered, his mouth found my neck, his breath hot against my skin, and all thought vanished. Nothing my imagination could have conjured compared to this.
There was something sacred about it, something symbolic.
Our first real moment together, raw, exposed, and unguarded.
All expressed in the heart of the wilderness.
The forest around us was both beautiful and dangerous, much like what lay between us.
And without Atlas to ground me, I knew I could lose myself completely.
I arched into him, instinctively reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck, but he had other ideas.
His hands slid up my naked sides, then caught my wrists, shackling them gently but firmly above my head.
I gasped as he held me there, pinned beneath him, his lips claiming mine again with renewed hunger.
It was strange, this feeling. To be both powerless and powerful, to crave what I didn’t fully understand, and to surrender to it completely. Because there was one thing that I had never told anybody, and up until this point, I hadn't really needed to.
I was still a virgin.