Atticus
SEVERAL MEN ARE BUSTLING through Chastain Castle as if they own the place. Streamers have been hung all around the drawing room, and a big banner reading Happy Birthday, Atlas! is hanging above the front doors.
A table has been constructed in the back corner of said drawing room, covered with various snacks and bottles of liquor. A punch bowl has been set up, filled with some pink concoction that Julian calls jungle juice.
And as I watch the men work, lining up extra chairs and assembling a photo board of all of Atlas’s best angles, I sneer and mutter curses under my breath.
On one hand, I’m sad that my baby brother is growing so quickly. On the other hand, I’m irritated that these men are browsing my home, preparing it for guests I want nothing to do with.
The impending arrival of Cameron is a consistent weight on my chest, one I cannot shake.
“Excuse me,” one of the men says, brushing past me on his way out the door to grab more decorations.
“Watch it,” I hiss, glaring at his retreating back.
“What’s the matter, son?” Father asks from where he’s supervising next to Julian, the two of them standing side-by-side with their arms crossed like two different sides of the same coin.
Two men utterly obsessed with Atlas and prepared to do anything to make this party a success.
“Nothing,” I mumble. There is no way in hell I’m about to admit to my father that I’m on the verge of a mental freakout.
Julian gives me a curious look but says nothing. Instead, he turns to my father and laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be in town by now with Missus Abigail and Lady Theodora?”
“Yes, yes,” Father answers dismissively. “But I have to ensure success here first.”
“I think I have it handled, sir,” Julian insists.
Father sighs. “Alright. If you’re certain.”
With that, Father pats Julian on the back, ruffles my hair, and leaves the room.
Julian smiles at me, like he’s done me a great favor.
“Not looking forward to tonight?” he presses.
“Not in the slightest.”
I think Julian might know more than he lets on, but I’m trying not to let it bother me. I know the man has good intentions; I just can’t shake my irritation with him.
“Don’t worry. It will be great, and maybe this is a good time to mend old—”
“Stop,” I snap. “I know what you’re going to say, and you need to mind your business.”
Julian gives me a hard look, his smile falling away faster than I’ve ever seen it. But he doesn’t speak; instead, he levels me with that glare and turns on his heel, fussing with the placement of the food on the snack table.
I know I’m probably being a jerk to someone who doesn’t deserve it, but I’m too high-strung right now. What I need is a distraction.
“I’m going to check on Atlas,” I mumble, leaving the drawing room to climb my way to the top of the west tower.
Unlike so many months ago, the hallway is not sweltering, and there is no lock on the door that leads into Atlas’s quarters.
Sometimes I wonder if he still resents me for locking him away, but it was the only way I could ensure his safety. I was freaking out; we were on the verge of losing him.
As I push the door open, I spot Atlas in front of his standing mirror immediately. He’s dressed in slacks colored a soft blue and a white long-sleeve blouse that has a plunging neckline and is made completely of floral lace.
His black leather Toe Derbies are shining in the setting sun as it drifts in through the skylight, and his soft brown curls appear silky even after the product he uses to style them.
Atlas looks stunning, so pure and absolutely glowing before me. Sometimes I seem to forget that he was always like this, until the curse.
And now, every time I see him, I’m overcome with an affection that suffocates me.
I remember my baby brother, toddling around in his sleep clothes as he followed me to bed, unwilling to sleep in his own quarters.
I see him at fourteen, blooming so beautifully and telling me all about his future, where he’d plant flowers and sing songs to his children.
Now he’s in university and stronger than any one man should be, having gone through what he has. Yet still so, so pretty.
“Darling,” I murmur, entering his room fully to shut the door behind myself.
Atlas lifts his gaze, finding me in the mirror. “Atticus! How do I look? Is it too much?”
I can see his nerves, his anxiety, and his excitement. Tonight is clearly a big deal for Atlas, and I feel some semblance of guilt that I’m making it mentally all about me.
“You look amazing,” I tell him.
Atlas beams, his big blue eyes shimmering as his lips quirk into a small, shy smile. “Thank you.”
“Julian is downstairs watching party preparations like a guard dog,” I add, only half joking.
“Oh, lord.” Atlas laughs. “I’m going to have to tighten my leash if he doesn’t hurry up and get dressed. The party starts soon.”
I make a hum of agreement, sitting on the edge of his bed as he fiddles with his blouse.
“Atticus,” he starts. “Can I ask you a question?”
The tone of his voice has suddenly turned serious, his eyes darting nervously between me and his mirror.
“Of course.”
“I just… I was wondering if you think it’s weird that I’ve stopped going to the chapel so much?” he asks.
Ever since the curse was broken, Atlas has returned to only attending occasional Sunday services when the family convenes. He no longer makes it a habit, and it is something I noticed, but it’s nothing I perceived as weird.
I would be a hypocrite if I did, considering I don’t even attend the family services anymore. Not now that I’ve sold ten years of my life to a demon.
“No,” I answer gently. “I don’t believe it’s weird. Before, you were trying to work through a very difficult situation, praying for answers revolving around your curse. Now you’re a normal guy.”
Atlas nods, but the expression on his face tells me he thinks it’s more than that, though he doesn’t elaborate on it.
Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “Did something happen to you? That night in my room, when you said you’d cured me… I heard a scream. Has something… weird happened?”
Fuck. I should say yes; I should probably tell somebody what I did. But the dark spell didn’t work; it didn’t save him, and his knowing I lost a decade in my attempt will only harm him in the end. He’ll blame himself.
So, I reply, “No. Don’t worry about it, darling.”
With a frown, he directs his attention back to his birthday outfit.
Then, from downstairs, we hear Julian yell, “Guests are arriving!”
“Alright!” With a clap of his hands, Atlas turns on his heel, and his bright smile returns. “It’s time to party!”
The drawing room is becoming more packed by the second with various familiar and unfamiliar faces. Several people are lingering in the center of the room, talking or dancing, and one is lounging on the chaise with a cup full of jungle juice in his hand.
I make a mental note that if it’s stained in the morning, I’ll be demanding that the cost be taken out of Julian’s paycheck.
Why? Because he’s currently grinding on my little brother by the snack table, kissing his mouth like a starving man and unbothered by the current company getting an eyeful.
I’m also slightly irritated because on our way downstairs, Atlas told me that on Monday—his actual birthday—he’ll be flying to California with Julian so that he can see Julian’s hometown. Which, of course, means I won’t get to see him on such a special day.
Plus, why would Atlas request that as his birthday present? Odd.
Unless he’s unconditionally in love with the attendee, and things like his hometown and his childhood matter. Oh, god, that’s what it is, isn’t it?
Atlas’s sweet laughter penetrates the loud pop music, and my eyes return to where he and Julian are standing.
Julian has an arm snugly wrapped around my brother’s waist, his hand gently grazing Atlas’s flushed cheek. Julian is whispering something to him, something that’s making him laugh and blush and swoon, and the moment is far too intimate, too sweet, for me to see.
Not without feeling that stab of loneliness, the reminder of the things I’ve lost. So I do what I do best: I leave.
Slipping out of the drawing room, I head downstairs and out into the backyard. I can use some fresh air, some moonlight to hide in.
Between Julian and Atlas acting disgustingly lovey and the impending arrival of Cameron and Cassie, I’m feeling exhausted already. A nice walk around the gardens should help me relax.
Or, at least I thought it was going to—until I hear voices.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he says, and I’m trying to pin the person behind the sound because it sounds kind of familiar, but I’m failing.
“I do, actually. Clever, and handsome, and witty,” Barfred responds. I could pick out his voice from a lineup, with how often I hear it.
“Fuck you,” the other man seethes.
“Oh, you’d liked that, wouldn’t you? You’re such a desperate, wicked little thing that I bet you dream of it daily.
” Barfred sounds angry, something I hardly ever experience from him.
“Hm? Am I right? Are you sitting around your little condo, hand in your pants, imagining all the ways I might break you some day? Imagining me defiling you?”
My heart seizes in my chest. My hands shake where they hang at my sides. What the hell is going on out here?
“Nathaniel,” the unknown voice grits out. “I would rather take a hot poker up my ass than be left unsatisfied by you.”
“That’s not what you said the last time you were sat on my dick, Landon. That’s not how you were acting when I had my fingers buried in your—”
“Enough!”
It seems they’re fighting, and Barfred is the only one mostly composed. This Landon character is slowly being ripped apart, right in my backyard.
“Get your hands off of me,” Landon hisses, and I can hear rustling, struggling.
I’ve taken two steps before I can stop myself. Am I going to rescue some guy I don’t know? Am I going to interrupt?
But a second later, I realize he doesn’t need rescuing.