Chapter 13 #2
After leaving Atlas to check us in, I move Amarah around the pool, which is barricaded behind a bright blue metal fence. The sun is setting now, casting a beautiful orange glow on the nasty green water sitting stagnant.
The motel is shaped like a large U, and when I glance up, the sign flickers, shifting to say No Vacancies beside the big Hillside Motel.
“Hopefully they don’t report Atlas,” she says, turning to face me, her chin tipping up to meet my gaze. “Could use him in situations like this. I can’t imagine our faces won’t be plastered everywhere shortly…”
When I meet her eyes, my heart slams right into my throat. It’s not the first time I’ve seen them, even this close. But when the setting sun hits them just right… they remind me of his.
“I’ve never met anyone with your colored eyes before, little deviant.”
“I wish you would stop calling me that… but I’m not surprised. Only pure-blooded Demons are blessed with purple eyes. Or someone’s been cursed with them.”
“Purple is too basic a color to describe what I see. They’re indigo, and I can’t explain it, but it feels like home.”
“K-Kayn. Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I can never be home to you…”
“Butcher?” Her voice ruptures my mind, and I shake my head clear of the memory of Lucifer.
“What?” Once I focus on her, her brows are pinched together, eyes bouncing between mine. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Nothing. You’re just staring.”
I’ve inadvertently stepped closer to her, putting her back against the metal fencing.
“Before you were hexed…” I grab one of the bars just above her head and tilt my head. Her lips slowly part, eyes widening in surprise. “What color were your eyes?”
When she swallows and diverts her gaze, I assume she won’t answer. So when she finally says “Gold” it catches me off guard.
“Gold. Like a light brown?”
The urge to grab her chin and make her look at me is so fucking strong, I tighten my grip on the bar just to stop myself from doing something stupid.
I like that her eyes remind me of Lucifer. Not that they’re attached to her.
She wets her lips and shakes her head. “My mother would say my eyes were made from the riches dragons would protect in stories. My dad would call them a solar flare… dangerous, but beautiful.” A soft smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, and with the fading light brushing over her skin, her dark freckles stand out starkly.
“Others would say… they were eyes of a destroyer.”
“Fitting.”
She hums. “Yeah…”
“They have two rooms.” Atlas’s voice cuts through whatever this is between us. He also snaps me back a step, and Amarah releases a heavy breath, clutching her bag of clothes tighter. “They aren’t close to one another.”
“I won’t run.” I’m not shocked she immediately defends herself—an action both Atlas and I were expecting.
I look at him, and he just crosses his arms over his bare chest. He managed to get cleaned up, but his pants are still soaked in blood. I really hope the attendant inside doesn’t call the authorities.
I’m starved and would like to get drunk off someone at the bar across the street.
“I’ll be able to find you anyhow, so I’m not worried.”
That’s a lie. I am concerned, but not about her running. I can’t trust her. And now that she’s channeled, the threat of… her feels much more real.
My friend hands her a key. “First room right there.” He points over her shoulder. “Bottom. We will be… I think six rooms down on the second floor.”
“Thanks,” she says, taking the key. She turns from us and stalks toward the room. The parking lot she crosses is full of cars, and I’m already thinking we’ll be carjacking one of them bright and early.
The moment I start to walk, Atlas grabs my arm to stop me. “Real quick.”
I hum. “What’s up?”
He releases a sigh. “I know you don’t have much of a choice, but are you sure she’s worth all this trouble? There has to be another way.”
“And what way is that?”
He runs his fingers up and through his short blond hair. “Point taken. But can you really trust her? Fucking Vayl above, she shredded through that Werewolf without breaking a sweat—and did it injured. Shit, she’s on the verge of passing out now and still walks like… nothing’s wrong.”
“She’s good at concealing, which only makes me trust her that much less than I already do. I can snap her neck if she gets out of line. I won’t give her the girth to channel and take my head.”
He slaps my arm. “Good. While I’m having a hard time trusting her, I kind of like her.”
Groaning, I scoff, “Of course you do.”
I start to head toward our room when he says, “Wait, that isn’t all.”
Without slowing, I watch as Amarah reaches her door and opens it. She checks over her shoulder, then slips inside, shutting it softly behind her.
“What else is there?”
Atlas gets to my side quickly. “By chance… have you seen her back?”
“That’s fucking random. Like, bare?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“No. But why would I have?”
His lips purse outward as he takes a deep breath. “Don’t know, maybe you caught it in the few days you were together before I showed up.”
I narrow my eyes at him as my steps slow. “Why do you ask, Atlas?”
A weary expression overtakes his usually stoic one, and I’m not entirely sure why, but my stomach knots at whatever he might tell me next.