14. Fourteen
Turns out, a bath doesn”t help me relax at all because all I can think about is him.
And not just him, but his fire wielding parents. From what the brothers have told me, their parents live at the northern tip of the crescent and rarely make public appearances, especially once Rafe came home from the Great War with their Uncle Soren. They”re private and powerful and I will dread the day I”m told I will have to meet them.
A fire breather and an incinerator. How terrifying. It”s a true wonder they didn”t use their Transcendent states to escape execution when Soraya refused to marry the man her father handpicked. Then again, if they had used their magic against the king, it would have sealed their fates and forever labeled them as traitors to the crown. Soren would have had no choice but to execute them for their crimes.
I inhale deeply and slip my head beneath the warm bathwater. I miss the feeling of being submerged in a pool, wading through the water, letting myself sink to the bottom before kicking back up to the surface. Swimming in the pools at the Golden Palace were some of my most peaceful moments and yet, I”ve had zero desire to swim since being here. Maybe it”s because my schedule is already pretty full, or maybe it wasn”t because I enjoyed swimming. Maybe I craved the ache in my lungs and the muffled sounds. The idea that nothing really mattered in that moment except being in tune with myself.
I emerge from the water and wipe wet hair from my face, attempting to convince myself that I need to get out of this tub. I”ve been in here for at least an hour and should get some sleep, so I”m well rested and prepared for whatever Atlas throws at me tomorrow. Flutters of embarrassment constrict my chest. I groan, rubbing the heels of my palms against my eyes and shoo the deep-rooted cringe from my belly.
Even though I should practice compartmentalizing my feelings like Professor Riggs taught me, I”m alone in here and I”m too tired to care about my hands glowing. I rest my head back against the lip of the tub, close my eyes, and think of Atlas” soft lips pressed against mine. The hunger in his kiss as he swept his tongue inside my mouth leaving the taste of peppermint in his wake. I shudder at how his hands gripped my hips and thighs in such a possessive, almost desperate, nature. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him. What a dangerous position to be in.
I slide my hand between my thighs where I feel an insatiable ache. The sex books I stumbled upon in Calmara had plenty of pictures and descriptions of couples having sex, but there were also a few sketches of women pleasuring themselves. Maybe if I try it, I can get Atlas out of my head and purge these lustful thoughts and desires for him once and for all.
The pads of my fingertips find the swollen bundle of nerves at my center, and I start to circle my –
The door suddenly flies open and startles me. I throw my hands up and encapsulate myself with a golden shield, prepared for an attack, but my heartbeat returns to its normal rhythm when I see Atlas glaring at me. With another motion of my hands, I remove the sphere of protection, and make sure my chest is hidden behind bubbles. Thankfully, the suds floating on top of the water hide my nakedness and where my hand had just been. He stands in the doorframe, staring at me unabashedly. He doesn”t look angry, but he isn”t pleased either.
”What the hell do you think you”re doing?” I spit, tilting my chin up in challenge, even though he clearly has the upper hand.
”Me?” His tone is just as biting. ”What the hell do you think you are doing?”
”Isn”t it obvious? I”m bath -”
”No!” He cuts me off and steps inside, closing the door behind him, sealing us in together. ”I mean earlier at the school. One minute you”re fighting me like you want to kill me and the next you”re kissing me.”
”Am I not supposed to win duels by whatever means necessary?” It”s a flimsy comeback and we both know it.
The corner of his mouth ticks up. ”Do you plan on kissing all of your opponents?”
”That sounds like jealousy to me, Atlas.”
”Call it curiosity.”
I resettle in the warm water, acting unbothered by his presence, although my stomach is fluttering, and my heart is racing. ”Shouldn”t you be proud or something? Your pupil is learning quickly.”
”My pupil,” he says the word like it tastes bitter on his tongue, ”is quickly getting under my skin.”
”Oh please,” I wave him off as droplets of water skitter around the room. ”I”ve been under your skin since the day we met.”
”You would think after all this time I would have gotten used to you, and I wouldn”t have this undeniable urge to push you into the canal.”
I close my eyes, resting my neck against the lip of the copper tub once more. ”You”ll miss me when I”m gone.”
When I”m met with silence, I open my eyes, expecting Atlas to be gone, but instead, he”s staring at me with sorrow in his eyes.
”Why do you say things like that?” he asks.
”What do you mean?”
”About missing you, if you were gone.”
”It”s a joke,” I fidget beneath the water. ”I”m sure you”ve been counting down the days until you”ll finally be free of me.”
”What if I don”t want to be free of you?”
My throat bobs, suddenly dry. ”I suppose that kiss really messed with your head then,” I tease, trying to lighten the tension between us.
Atlas pushes up from his rooted position against the door and stalks toward the tub. He kneels so we”re eye level, draping his arms over the lip of the tub. ”When I kissed you in Bava, it was to evade capture. When you kissed me today, it was to get a rise out of me. The next time we kiss, it will mean something.”
”If we kiss again,” I whisper defiantly.
He smiles and it sets my soul on fire. ”It”s only a matter of time before one of us falls prey to the other, Princess.”
The way he looks at me has my lower belly aching. I have half a mind to pull him in the tub with me, but my intrusive thoughts are squashed when he stands up.
”By the way, Strenlys,” he says flippantly, casting me a wicked look over his shoulder as he heads for the door, ”the bubbles don”t hide everything.”
My eyes widen and I throw a bar of soap at him, but he evades injury when he slips through the door, once again leaving me to myself.
Shit.
He”s infuriating and arousing all at the same time. Thankfully, he either didn”t notice my hands were glowing when he first barged in on me or he didn”t care enough to make a comment. The thought of him walking in on me while pleasuring myself, picturing him being the one with his hand between my legs heats my cheeks. Oh, stars! What if he”d waited just a few more minutes and found me as I …
I refuse to finish that mortifying thought.
But is it mortifying? What would he have done, if he had walked in on me and figured out exactly what I was doing? Would he have watched me? Would he have offered to do it for me?
My heart flutters and the ache of wanting his hands inside me sends my mind sputtering.
No. I can”t do this.
It”s late and I”m exhausted, turned on, and most definitely irritated. I need to get dressed and lay down.
Hauling myself out of the tub, I quickly pat myself dry, brush my hair, and get dressed in a comfortable tank and shorts before I slip out of the bathroom and stare at Atlas”s bedroom door. I should just walk to the staircase and go down one floor to my quarters. Call it stubbornness, but I can”t let his smug comments go unquestioned. I realize I”m no longer tired. Instead, I feel like fighting.
Not giving myself a second to think my next actions through, I burst into his room, pointing an accusatory finger at him, but my angry insults die on the tip of my tongue when I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, arms crossed over his chest. He”s positioned himself in front of the door, as if he was expecting me to barge in for round two.
”I hate you,” I seethe.
Amusement flashes in his green eyes. ”Do you?”
”I hate your smirk. I hate your smug comments. I hate when your flirtations get a rise out of me. And I especially hate how you seem to see right through me.”
”Is that all?”
”No.” I ball my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms.
One of his eyebrows arches as he stands to his feet. Approaching me, raking a hand through his disheveled locks, he fills the doorway with his looming figure and grips the frame on either side. ”Tell me, Princess, what else do you hate about me?”
I tilt my head up, our faces within inches of one another. My breathing is ragged, and I can”t tell if it”s from deep-rooted rage or irrefutable attraction.
”I hate that I don”t actually hate you,” I say softly. ”It would make everything so much easier if I did.”
”Easy doesn”t seem to suit us.” He lowers his head toward me and whispers, ”Why are you really here?”
”I think you know why.”
”I need to hear you say it.”
”Kiss me,” I demand with a surprising hunger. ”Kiss me like it means something.”
For a brief second, he hesitates, and the air is sucked out of the room. But then his hands slip on either side of my jaw and his mouth is firmly rooted to mine. His hands slide down my arms, waist, hips, and settle underneath the backs of my thighs to scoop me up. I twist my legs around his torso and scratch my nails through his hair. I”ve been wanting to play with his hair for weeks and now, I can finally have my way with him.