Atticus
“Nonsense.” I grin, taking his hand in mine. “How would I have explained to you all my late-night sneaking around?”
He doesn’t find the joke funny, only giving me a stern look. “Not funny. If I had seen it, I would have protected you.”
Our butler looks sad, genuinely guilty. And I can’t stand it.
“Truly, it’s not your fault. You deserved that break after helping Atlas how you did. Plus, wasn’t your wife sick?”
Oscar nods, squeezing my hand.
“Then, as I said, nonsense,” I continue. “And you’re here now, so if I somehow manage to make another deal with the devil, you can help then.”
“Not funny,” he repeats.
I laugh anyway. I can’t help it—in the past few days since my exorcism, my life has been so pleasant, so full, that I almost believe I’m dreaming.
Sure, I’m shacked up in the guestroom, which isn’t ideal, but everything else is wonderful.
Atlas hugs all over me, no longer afraid of walking in my direction; my body is completely in my control, and Father even said that at the end of the summer, I can start my employment with Portline Enterprises.
He’s finally going to train me to handle the business I’ll one day inherit.
Only three things are weighing on me now, and the first is Julian. I… I have to apologize to him. Not only did he literally jump from a cliff to save my baby brother—as I failed to—but he continues to protect him still. And me, surprisingly.
He’s done all of this, and I still treat him like shit. I’m pretty sure I even told him to die before I was officially taken over that night.
The second thing weighing on me? I’m having horrible nightmares. Nightmares in which I’m barehandedly slaughtering my entire family and the man I love. I’m not sure how to handle them, how to escape them, and I haven’t found the courage to ask for help.
I still… I’m still struggling with my previous loss of control, so I’m not really looking to give anyone any ammunition to use against me.
And finally, my only other worry these past few days has been Cameron. The man I love—the one who was willing to break into my home and make a deal with a demon just to keep me.
Cameron, who sat amongst a blazing fire to coax me from the edge of insanity.
When I first woke up post-exorcism, I asked him to never leave my side. And he promised he wouldn’t. Yet twice now he’s left and gone home for the night.
Checking on his mother, he says. Which would be understandable if he didn’t come back so dejected. At first I thought it had to do with work, as he does go every day, but he’ll chat about that all day long, about how useful he feels there.
So what is it? What at home is making him so sad?
I can remember several years ago, when Cassie mentioned that he needed to play basketball so that he could avoid his house. The implications, the weight of what he is keeping from me, are killing me.
And so is the realization that I’m the reason Cameron was involved in all of this craziness in the first place, adding to whatever burden he already carries.
Unlike Atlas, who was cursed and therefore at the hands of his incubus, who came to him at night, Cameron was a target.
A specific target for the demon I made a deal with, all because I wanted him so badly.
Because it knew it could use his love against me.
There’s nothing I can do about that, though. Other than apologizing—which I’ve done a lot of—I can’t go back in time and love him any less.
So, I focus on the other three overwhelming issues that stare me in the eyes, sharp and hot.
But I’m in control. I’m smart and methodical. So, one problem at a time. And when they’re all gone and resolved, I’m going to have Cameron all to myself.
Guilt be damned.
I’m going to marry him someday and make him Mr. Chastain, just as I am. One and the same, mine to cherish and protect and guide, an extension of me fully.
But first? Julian.
I say a few parting words to a still slightly guilty Oscar and head toward the west tower. Only as I pass the back door to the estate do I spot Atlas and Julian by the cliff’s edge, watching the water.
Atlas is sitting in his lap, letting Julian wrap his arms around his waist as they cuddle up and watch the setting sun. And it makes me smile.
I approach where they sit, not bothering with a jacket as the spring air heats daily.
“Afternoon,” I call out, and Atlas looks over his shoulder, grinning.
“Atticus! How are you feeling today?”
“I’m great, thank you. How are you?” I ask.
“I’m wonderful.” My brother sighs dreamily, shining just as brightly as he did before things fell apart again.
Visions of him choking and gasping, held in my grip as I stole his life, flash before my eyes, and I shake it off quickly.
Not now. Not ever.
“And you, Julian?”
Surprised at my words, Julian’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. “Uh, great. Thanks.”
I’ve genuinely never concerned myself with Julian’s daily happiness. His safety? Sure. Of course. I’m not a monster. But his happiness? I simply couldn’t be bothered.
Not anymore. I may not have to love him—he is stealing my brother after all—but I can respect him. I will respect him.
“Good. Could I… could I speak to you for a moment? Alone?” My voice is low, almost embarrassed, as Julian nods quickly.
“I’ll just grab us some tea, then,” Atlas offers, his smile gleaming in the setting sun as he leaves a kiss on both of our cheeks before slipping inside.
“Uh, is everything okay?” Julian asks, sitting up straight in his chair. “Is it Cameron?”
The fact that he immediately assumes there is a problem for me to be talking to him like this makes me feel like a horrible person.
“No, nothing like that,” I assure him.
“Atlas, then?” Julian’s eyes grow dark, his hands gripping the handles of the chair until his knuckles turn white.
A small chuckle leaves me. “No, Julian. I’ve just come to talk.”
“Oh. Talk,” he repeats. “Uh, about what?”
Well, here it goes. Time to swallow my pride.
“I need to apologize to you. For what has happened. What I said—”
Julian waves me off, interrupting me. “Don’t worry about it, man. You weren’t in your right mind.”
I clench my jaw. His interrupting me and calling me man isn’t helping my desire to make peace here.
“It’s just that,” I grit out. “I… I haven’t been particularly kind to you. Even before the demon.”
“The incubus,” Julian corrects.
Asshole.
“Same thing,” I answer defensively. “Will you let me speak?”
With a grin, Julian imitates the motion of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. I wish.
“As I was saying, you’ve taken good care of my brother and my family. Me included. I should be a bit nicer to you. I don’t think you should die, and I no longer believe you should get out of my house.”
“You believed I should move out?” Julian asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“What did I just say?” I snap. “God, you’re impossible!”
The man just laughs, standing from his chair before pulling me into a very uncomfortable, nonconsensual hug.
“Don’t worry, Atticus. I forgive you.”
“Young Master Atticus,” I correct.
“Nah, I’m way past that. If you have a problem with it, take it up with my boss.” Julian pulls away, winking at me.
The issue is, Father would definitely side with him on this one. And even though he annoys me beyond belief, I find myself smiling.
He’s really wiggled his way into my world, hasn’t he?
“Aw, you even smile for me now!” Julian coos.
My smile shifts into a sneer, and I push past him and head for the door. “Enough. I’ve said my piece.”
Julian cackles, yelling after me, “I love you too, brother!”
I’m still glaring as I step inside, immediately running into Atlas.
“Oh no,” he says, his smile falling away. “Are you fighting with Julian again?”
I soothe my brother’s hair, kissing his forehead. “Why don’t you ask him and his unstoppable mouth?”
“Unstoppable indeed, isn’t that right, little bunny?” Julian asks, suddenly right on my heels.
“Julie!” Atlas screams.
At the same time, I say, “Oh, god. I’m leaving.”
Heading upstairs and to the guestroom, I let out a relieved sigh. One problem down.
And as I hear a familiar Mustang pull into our circular, gravel drive, I grin. Time to fix something a bit more exciting.
It takes Cameron all of two minutes to reach my new quarters, bursting through the door. His blond hair is matted with sweat, his work uniform dirty, and the smell of motor oil lingering on his skin.
God, I’m so in love.
“Hey,” he breathes, walking toward where I sit on the edge of the bed. “How are your wounds?”
I take his hips in my hands, overwhelmed immediately by the feel of him as I situate him between my thighs.
“I feel great,” I tell him. “Better now.”
Cameron flushes, the bright pink making the stormy gray of his eyes vivid, a depth so deep I could happily drown in them.
“Okay,” he whispers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“How was work?”
“Ugh.” Cameron rolls his eyes, his smile dropping away as he melts in my hands. “So long. The whole day I could barely concentrate; I just kept thinking about how lonely it was to sleep in my own bed again last night.”
And this is the perfect segue. What a perfect man.
“Speaking of that,” I start, tightening my grip on his hips. Cameron freezes, his eyes rounding as he looks down at me hesitantly. “I want to come next time.”
“W-what?”
“Yeah. I said you’re never leaving my side, so if you need to go home, I’ll go too.”
“No.”
The answer is so short, so final, that my eyes narrow at him.
“No?” I repeat, and he can sense the dangerous edge to it, shrinking in on himself.
“Uh, yeah. No.” He clears his throat. “It’s just not… not the right time?” Cameron’s tone rises in pitch, making his statement more of a question.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I press.
He seems to steel himself—squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath. “It means you can’t come to my house.”
“I’ve been at your house,” I counter.