Chapter 21
Istroked out an incredible orgasm with the thought of her touching herself and being angry about it. I left quite a mess when I was done, and ended up stripping the bed because of it.
It’s the next morning, and I’m standing outside Atlas’s door.
I’d knocked on Amarah’s first, but she told me—quite literally—to fuck off and that she’d meet me downstairs.
So, naturally, I came to retrieve my friend instead.
No point in being alone just because she woke up with a stick lodged somewhere unpleasant.
Leaning against the wall across from his room, I watch as Atlas steps out wearing jeans and a winter coat. I give him a lazy wave.
“Good morning, Atlas.”
“Oh boy.” His eyes dart down the hall as he shuts the door behind him. “You’re in a good mood. Where’s Amarah?”
My laugh echoes down the corridor. “Still getting ready. She told me to fuck off, so… here I am.”
He narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. “And what did you do to her?”
Pushing off the wall, I clap a hand onto his shoulder and steer him toward the stairs. “I didn’t do anything. Stop defending her.”
He clicks his tongue and pulls away. “You’re such a liar.”
I shrug, unbothered. I didn’t really do anything, unless forcing her to give me answers counts.
At this point, I’m not above flustering her to get what I want.
She hates the attention I give her, and I have a feeling that if I keep it up, she’ll spill every dirty little secret just to keep me out of her space.
Though, selfishly, I kind of hope she keeps fighting it. I’m enjoying this little push and pull far too much.
Downstairs, the free breakfast area reeks of overly greasy sausage and eggs that have definitely been sitting out too long. Atlas heads straight for the coffee machine, and I slide into a booth tucked off to the side, far from the morning crowd.
The space is basic. Bright blue carpet patterned with little gold stars every foot or so.
The walls are stark white, decorated only with a few sparse paintings of Ambarka: its lively downtown, the old coastal train cutting straight through it.
The furniture is all simple wood, maybe forty percent of it occupied.
Mostly families with loud kids shrieking at their parents for more syrup.
Atlas returns with a mug and slides into the booth across from me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhmm.” I lean back, draping my arm over the seat.
“Who are you trying to find?”
I sigh and wet my lips. “Someone important.”
He raises the mug, watching me over the rim, waiting.
“Does it matter who they are?” I continue. “Just that they’re extremely vital to me.”
One corner of his mouth curves up. “I suppose it doesn’t.” He takes a sip, settling deeper into his seat. “Did they die?”
I shake my head. “No… no, he didn’t.”
His brows jump at the pronoun. “Then why is he in the Beyond?”
“It’s… complicated,” I say, and this time the word feels too small.
“Too complicated for you to understand—not because you’re stupid.
That word has been pissing me off lately.
” He snorts at that, but I just roll my eyes and press on.
“I shouldn’t have waited this long to try to reach him.
No point beating myself up about it now. I’m going, and that’s what matters.”
Atlas nods, sips again, then sets his mug down. “Have you told Amarah?”
I give him a puzzled look. “No. Why would it matter?”
He shrugs, exaggerated, rolling his eyes away and letting out a low, theatrical whistle.
“Atlas,” I warn. “She won’t even tell me her side of the bargain. All I know is she wants someone dead and won’t tell me who. You think I’m going to tell her, ‘Hey, I’m trying to get my ex back from the Beyond because I let his ass disappear in the first place’? No. Absolutely not.”
“Seems petty.”
“It’s also none of her business. None of yours, either. Watch it.”
He gives me a mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t be keeping it from her for another reason, would you?”
“Alright, now you’re way out of line. I wouldn’t give a shit if she knew. Plus, why—no, I’m not going down that road.” I wave my hand and then pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Just saying, I can practically taste the tension between you two. If I had someone to bet with, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before you two fu—”
“No.”
“Don’t no me, Kayn. You were fucking jealous she was laying on me in the car for Vayl sakes.” He points a finger right at me. One if he isn’t careful with, I may snap off.
“I’m not jealous,” I nearly huff, but I reign it in. I’m not jealous… I’m not! Atlas gets close to people, too much so, and it can mess with his judgement. That’s all.
That is all.
“Uh-huh. I think you aren’t telling her because you think she’d be upset you’re going after your ex, aka, not being over him.”
“I said… I don’t care—”
“Good morning, Atlas.”
My damn heart leaps straight into my throat at the sound of Amarah’s voice.
She walks right past my side of the booth and squeezes in beside Atlas. He shifts over to make room, and she settles in without hesitation. Then she immediately reaches for his coffee, lifts it to her lips, and takes a drink.
Her eyes rise over the rim, and when she spots me, as though she genuinely hadn’t expected I’d be sitting there, one eyebrow lifts.
Atlas holds his breath, and the beating of his heart I know is making it difficult for him to do.
“Oh. Morning, Butcher. Didn’t see you there.”
The silence that follows is suffocating—thick enough to smother a flame. If someone dropped a pin in the next city over, I’d probably hear it clearer than either of them breathing.
She shifts, turning slightly toward Atlas, confusion etched in her expression. For a heartbeat, I wonder if maybe she didn’t overhear what he’d implied earlier. Gods, I hope not.
“You make your coffee how I like it,” she says simply, taking another sip before leaning back in the booth, perfectly relaxed.
“I-I can go get you your own cup.”
She shrugs. “We’re friends. Friends share drinks…” Her eyes cut back to me, sharp enough to draw blood. “Though maybe go easier on the ChapStick, Atlas. You really don’t need it.”
Heat spikes up my spine, white-hot and instant.
“Your lips look moisturized enough,” she adds, taking another slow sip. Not once breaking eye contact.
“Oh—uh—well, thank you,” Atlas stammers. He sounds petrified, but I don’t bother looking at him. My attention is locked on her. “I can make us a to-go cup—”
The sound that leaves my throat is feral enough to make him choke on his own words.
“—two. Two to-go cups. Separately. Obviously. Heh.”
“Thanks, Atlas. Appreciate it.”
She hands him the mug, but before he can grab it, I dart my hand across the table and snatch it, covering the top so it doesn’t splash her. The hot liquid rolls across my palm, the heat not registering because I’m already burning.
“Karma’s funny, isn’t it, Butcher?” she murmurs, her voice sliding through the bond like a blade. “I’ll never forgive you for last night.”
My nose twitches as a slow, smug smile curls my lips. “For making you wet, or for leaving you with a mess you had to take care of yourself?”
Her mouth twitches with a ghost of a smile.
“I actually went to sleep. I’ve no interest in touching myself while thinking of you.”
“Filthy… little… liar.”
“Plus—” She wets her lips. “I’m all good this morning. You seem to be the one wound up.”
I’m going to fuck that word ‘good’ out of her system, I swear to the Gods.
“Alright, well I’m still here,” Atlas says, nervous as Beyond.
I blink, and suddenly the sounds of the breakfast area rush back in—kids yelling, plates clattering, machines hissing. Noise I’d tuned out completely.
Amarah looks at him, all innocence.
“Sorry. We’ll get those to-go cups, since someone doesn’t believe in sharing.”
How painfully ironic that statement is.
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling at her. The one she gives right back is genuine.
Godsdamn it. Even that, something so small, makes irritation claw up my spine. Am I actually jealous?
“Anyway,” Atlas continues, “about our next step. How do you plan on opening the gates?”
She sighs, and whatever sharp, chaotic energy she’d had moments ago—the teasing, the provocation, the fire—drains out of her. She reverts right back into herself: Reserved, controlled, and distant.
And as much as that little stunt of hers pissed me off, I can’t lie… it was fun. The spark in her. The bite. Even that tight, polite smile she gives Atlas now, it’s still nice to see.
She is beautiful.
Godsdamn these tug-of-war feelings.
Then it happens—so quickly it’s almost imperceptible. Her lips press together, chin dipping as she lets out a soft, quiet giggle.
She smothers it immediately, forcing her expression back to neutral.
Did she hear my thoughts? I didn’t send anything through the—
“Stop thinking.”
Her voice snaps through the bond, before she switches smoothly to speaking aloud, directing her next words to Atlas, not me.
“I want to confirm something before making a rushed decision. You know there are certain places with higher energy concentrations across the continent, right? They’re called Vortices.
Mundanes use them for healing and self-exploration, but for us Yldarwrights, they help us connect to Vendra directly.
I checked online for the closest one before I came to find you both. ”
“And where is that?” I ask.
“Northwest of here. There’s a famous waterfall at the furthest tip of Alameris and Nevadia. A natural hot spring formed in the mountainside on the other side of it, and it has a high energy circulation. At least, that’s what the website said.”
Groaning, I drag my fingers through my hair. I wanted to stay as far away from the west as possible. “Is there no other one going east?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “They’ll have less energy because they’re closer to Old Hearth. We could go south, but it would take longer, and… I feel like we’ve already wasted a lot of time.”
Movement flickers at the edge of my vision. People inside the dining area are suddenly rushing, attention shifting toward the mounted television. The volume spiking around us.
“It’s fine to backtrack, I think,” Atlas chimes in, but I’m already turning toward the TV.
“—Firefighter crews are on scene now trying to put out the flames.”
The camera pans from the newscaster toward a thick column of black smoke. I don’t recognize the town, the angle, anything. Just destruction. “Ma’am! Ma’am!” The reporter rushes to a blonde woman covered in ash. “Were you in the train? Did you see what happened?”
“It happened so fast! I think we crashed into something, and—”
The explosion cuts the feed, the shock wave rattling our table.
I whip my head toward Amarah, just in time to see her shove to her feet and bolt.
“Wait!” I lunge for her arm, but she sidesteps cleanly and is gone, sprinting out of the dining area.
Getting to her is easy; she isn’t faster than any Mundane, but her stubbornness may as well be on the level of Xeraphine.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You don’t feel that?”
“I did. It was like a mini earthquake.”
We reach the front doors of the hotel. The automated panels slide open, and the moment we step outside, I see the column of black smoke.
“No.” She bolts into the parking lot, heading straight toward the plume. “A fucking gate.”
I glance at Atlas. “Get the car.” He pivots toward the lot. “Be careful, and meet us there.”
Then I pick up my pace, scoop her up without breaking stride, and race toward the accident.
“Kayn,” she whispers. I look down. Terror floods her widened eyes. “There are Pyrehounds… I can feel them too.”
I don’t give a damn about those things—but hearing her say my first name hits me in a place I don’t want to acknowledge. It’s now I understand what she meant. The power of a name.
“Alright. Can you tell if the gate’s still open?
” I shift my focus forward, weaving through halted traffic as we approach a slight incline leading toward a bridge.
Beyond it, the smoke climbs in a thick, suffocating pillar.
I can make out the rear cars of the train, but the front—no matter how hard I focus—is swallowed by the darkness.
“It feels closed, but there’s too much activity for me to be certain…” She pauses, then adds, “Don’t let them bite you. And remember not to touch them.”
People are sprinting away from the carnage, and I’m forced to slow as we hit the bridge. A river rushes beneath us, and I hesitate.
“I can’t run on water.”
“Put me down. We’ll run through the crowd at a Mundane speed.”
I set her on her feet, and she immediately grabs my wrist.
“Promise not to touch them, okay? Remember, I can’t carry your big ass, and there are still people after me. I need you… not to be incapacitated.”
I give her a slow nod, choosing to ignore the last part of her final sentence. “And you listen to me. If I say you need to run, you—”
“Uh, yeah, no. You won’t be treating me like I’m some weak woman.” She releases me and spins on her heel. “I can already feel Vendra. She wants to use me to help them. I’ll be fine.”
Then… she’s gone, running through the people. Her long white hair like silk as it bounces off her back.
She can feel Vendra… She wants her to help them? What?