Atlas
As I head out of Summer’s dorm, I turn my phone on and get flooded with more than thirty missed calls from the guys, our group chat blowing up with messages. They probably think I’m lying dead in a ditch.
There are places they’ve been checking off their list, looking for me, including Link and Dean paying a visit to my cousin.
Both my car and my last known location put me on campus, but thanks to Link disabling the Offline Finding feature on my phone, switching it off makes me untraceable.
The chat logs show they even checked the system’s dorm records for Summer Night.
But those are outdated. That’s why the guys couldn’t find her.
Or me. I owe them an explanation and an apology for keeping them up all night.
I’m okay. Will be back at the house in about forty minutes.
That’s what I type in the chat when messages start pouring in, and Link calls me.
“Where the fuck were you?” He sounds livid. “We’ve been up all night, combing CCTV footage, checking every place we thought of, since your phone was off.”
I used the back entrance of the dorms to avoid cameras. Who knew that would come back to bite me in the ass? And the phone . . . they’ll all want to beat the shit out of me when I tell them I’m the one who switched it off.
“I’ll tell you everything, but I need to make a quick stop before I get back to the house.”
Link curses on the other end of the line before disconnecting. Yeah, I get it. He’s furious. I would’ve lost my shit too.
Summer’s schedule shows she has ECON 101 with Mr. Akles.
I sneak into that class, locking onto my redheaded menace right away. Three steps in her direction, and Mr. Akles calls my name, pulling my attention away from her.
“Mr. Holt! Last I checked, you passed this class with flying colors. Did you love the subject so much that you’re drawn to my classroom again?”
Everyone turns to check who the professor is talking to, including my Succubus, her eyes wide in surprise.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not here out of love for your subject. Don’t mind me! I need a few minutes, and I’ll be on my way.”
Mr. Akles makes a gesture for me to take a seat, and I head straight for where Summer is. Seems her looks have attracted attention, because some dickweed is sitting right beside her. I settle in the row behind, and the guy next to her turns to look at me, his eyes snagging on my tattoos.
“Take your shit and get the fuck away from her.” I don’t need to raise my voice to sound threatening, and he doesn’t wait a second before snatching his stuff, scrambling a row down to the far end.
Ignoring my presence, Summer pretends to write notes on her laptop, aiming to irritate me with that indifference. I reach out, wrapping her mane around my fist, tugging back so she can hear what I have to say.
“Morning, baby,” she whispers when I level my face next to hers. “How did you sleep?”
She’s twisted to the core, this little demon of mine.
“That’s the best sleep I’ve ever had,” I say to vex her, show her she did nothing with her tricks, and partly because I indeed had a great sleep with her by my side.
“Does that mean I should be expecting you tonight? I have a whole pack of little blue pills ready for you.”
Summer low-key threatens me in a room full of people, and a smirk creeps onto her face. I don’t know anyone else capable of pulling that off.
“You’re the sweetest surprise ever, and I’m going to enjoy our game so much.”
I seal those words with a loud smooch to her cheek so everyone drops any idea of approaching what’s mine.
When I let the cold fire that is her hair slip through my fingers, she’s in no hurry to pull away from me, giving me the chance to rumble, “See you later, Succubus,” as a promise I intend to keep. Then, I stride for the exit.
Despite the night I’ve had, I’ve never felt more alive, more wired, knowing what kind of creature I’m hunting.
It’s no longer about the fuck. The stakes now are on a whole new level.
I want to catch her, to own her. But how do you do that with someone like her?
I guess I’ll figure it out while letting the game unfold.
It’s my turn to make a move.
Fortunately for her, I have business to take care of today. But before I even get to that, I need to face the guys.
Parking outside the house, I take a moment to brace myself before heading inside.
Sure enough, as soon as the door closes behind me, Link is in my face, punching my shoulder with full force.
“Fucking idiot! We thought someone offed you.”
“Where were you?” Connor shifts on his chair, staring inquisitively.
“A thousand bucks says he was with that redhead,” Dean chimes in.
“I’ll take the bet. He never sleeps over.” Carter enters the conversation with such conviction, but he’ll be down a grand once I open my mouth.
“You know I’d never pull shit like that on you, but I was . . .” I’m not sure how to explain the rest. “kinda tied up to a bed for the whole night.”
Connor’s grinning and bobbling his head at what he thinks the rest of the story holds. Should I just tell them a crazy chick got me tied down? I wouldn’t be lying after all.
“No, I did not get laid,” I admit, against my better judgment.
Everyone goes silent, staring at me like I have shit on my forehead.
“Color me confused,” Link says.
I brace myself for the embarrassing truth, which no amount of careful wording could cover. It’s like putting powdered sugar over a pile of stinking shit and calling it a cake.
“Summer knocked me unconscious when I broke into her room. I woke up tied to the bed, which, by the way, she had fuckin’ reinforced.
” I make sure to drive home the point so they, at the very least, won’t mock me for not getting free.
“She teased me and left me with a raging hard-on, gagged with her panties and her—completely naked—sleeping next to me for the whole night.” I didn’t mean to blurt it all out, but summarizing the highlights of the evening might give them a taste of what kind of woman I’m dealing with.
“Do you believe me now when I say she’s a fuckin’ demon? ”
Count to three, and everyone bursts out laughing, and I have zero desire to stay back and listen to their jokes on my behalf.
“Fuck you all!” I bark, heading for the stairs.
“I’m sure you want to after the night you’ve had.” Carter snorts.
“You’re officially off the hook, given you were . . . tied up,” Link shouts after me, keeping their laughter alive.
“I’m taking a shower, and we’re heading for Warehouse 4, and then the gallery. I don’t want to hear any more jokes about how I spent my night!” I yell from upstairs, but that does nothing to interrupt their howling, my bark at them lost like a whisper in the wind.
After a long shower, doing what I couldn’t do all night, I can confirm Summer made a serial masturbator out of me.
My hopes of going downstairs and no longer being mocked are quixotic dreams, because the moment I’m there, Carter takes a few hits at me.
Seems I’m the inspiration for his sense of humor to grace the house again, and Connor is right there laughing along with his brother.
I want them on better terms, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to be their entertainment topic.
I try to shut them down, but every time I cut one head off, figuratively, they are like a fuckin’ hydra. Two more pop up.
They roast me at the house, in the car, with Carter even calling me while driving right behind me just to keep it going. They don’t stop once we get to the warehouse, waiting for Barry to show up. This is not ending any time soon.
The tirade only hits pause once Barry arrives. I point to the backroom, and he doesn’t ask any questions before getting inside. Carter and Link opt to wait outside, making sure the task of distributing the art to different warehouses is promptly executed in multiple shipments.
“Here’s the list.” I approach the boy, noticing how he’s afraid to make eye contact but forces himself. He knows what happens when he doesn’t. “You know what to do, right?”
“Yes, sir.” No stutter. Just a shaky voice.
“Don’t screw this up! I’d hate to have to come for you,” Dean adds, and the way Barry’s whole body shudders gives the impression he’s a little bit damaged, after all.
“Do you have anything else for me?”
“No, sir. Mr. Holt . . . I mean, the other Mr. Holt hasn’t contacted me yet. I’m supposed to give him the list next Monday.”
“And about the girl? Do you have a name, or do you know if he still follows her?”
“I was with my friend this morning when Mr. Holt told him his services are no longer required, because her boyfriend paid her a visit in class. Her name is Summer. That’s as much as I could overhear from the conversation.”
Balling my hands into fists until my knuckles turn white prompts Barry to take a step back. Then he takes another one. Did my face just go apoplectic?
The desire to bury my cousin has never been stronger than at this moment, as a blood-red haze swallows my vision. Because of him, my Succubus was stalked by someone . . . other than me.
Dean’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I realize I’ve gone too far, traumatizing the boy in the room with my maddened expression, when the one man who’s always unbothered by how insane I get actually reacts.
I force myself into steady breaths to look less homicidal.
“Go! The guys outside will pay you half now, half when you complete the job,” I grit, jutting my head for the door, before Barry bolts out of the room.
“Her boyfriend . . .” Connor blurts derisively, eyes crinkled with amusement.
He was never good at gauging the mood, unable to recognize when joking is not on the table.
When the room reeks of violence, which I radiate plenty of at the moment, that’s when the real fun begins for him.
“Did you hold hands and exchange sweet kisses, boyfriend?”
That’s the last straw. I kick his chair, and he falls to the ground laughing.
“Or maybe you braided her hair?”
The urge to kick him again is subtly pushed aside by the desire to laugh at my own misery that a single redhead is causing me. I offer a hand to help him stand up, but right when I’m about to pull him up, he does it again—
“No, wait! Maybe you unbraided her hair.”
That’s it! I let go, but my friend—falling on his ass—only amplifies his laughter.
Connor knows I’d rather be caught dead than being labeled someone’s boyfriend, but why does it feel like I’m some twisted version of exactly that?
When it comes to Summer, I want everyone to know she’s only mine to play with.
An hour later, as soon as we get to the gallery, I’m served with the news that I’ll have to offer a bigger commission to buy off one of the art critics.
That’s what Paolo Villarte—the curator handling the venue—informs me, and I can’t say I’m happy about the news.
But I need this thing with Felicity Stone to work out, so I ask close to zero questions on the matter before agreeing to his demands.
Link makes sure to cover the tracks of a wire transfer, while Dean deals with Stone, leaving Carter and Connor to check a couple of names Villarte suggested.
All in all, it takes two hours to be done with work, leaving us time to get back and catch a class or two.
The moment my foot steps on campus territory, I have my phone in hand, checking my personal night-terror’s location.
To my surprise, she seems to have dragged her sexy ass to the theater in the middle of the day.
Looks like I’ve got a movie date to attend. I’m certain she’ll be over the moon to have me join her uninvited.