9. To Burn and Ache #2
“You’ll be losing something very soon,” I promised confidently.
“Oh, really… what’s that I wonder?” The question was little more than a murmur between us.
I smiled, leaning up so I could whisper over his lips. “Control.”
Atlas’s laugh was low and warm, but there was something dangerous beneath it. Something that made awareness dance across my skin as his gaze travelled over my face.
A slow smile spread across his face as he looked down at me, and immediately, I became suspicious. It was the sort of smile that usually appeared moments before he said something insufferably arrogant and judging by the amusement already dancing in his eyes, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Control?” he repeated, one dark brow lifting. The challenge in his voice only made me smile back.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, and Atlas’s grin widened.
“I think we’ve already established which one of us ended up being carried here,” he pointed out, and I let out a scoff. The audacity of this man.
“That proves nothing,” I argued, despite knowing I had already lost. Something he confirmed when the laugh that escaped him was low and warm, his chest vibrating beneath where I was pressed against him.
“It proves quite a lot.”
“No,” I argued immediately, shaking my head. “It only proves that you’re bossy.”
“Kingly,” Atlas corrected without missing a beat, and my lips twitched as I fought a smile, rolling my eyes instead.
“Bossy,” I whispered over his lips, and this time I felt them as he fought his own grin.
“Kingly,” he whispered back, and I had to say, the game we played only made me hotter. Plus, the fact that he looked so pleased with himself only strengthened my argument… kind of.
“Definitely bossy.”
Atlas laughed again, entirely unbothered by the accusation.
“You’re adorable when you’re wrong,” he chuckled, and all I could do in response was stare at him.
Not only had he somehow appointed himself winner of the argument, but he was looking entirely too satisfied about it.
Worse still, he knew exactly what effect he was having on me.
I could see it in the smug glint in his eyes, in the way his smile kept threatening to spread wider every time I glared at him.
Before I could stop myself, I lifted a hand with every intention of swatting him for the comment. But Atlas saw the movement coming long before I reached him. His hand shot out and caught my wrist effortlessly, his fingers wrapping around it before I could make contact.
“Tut tut, little bird, did you already forget what happens when you fight me?”
“You find yourself on your ass,” I reminded him. Then, because clearly, I learned nothing from previous mistakes, I tried again with my other hand, only to have Atlas catch that one, too. Damn him and his superhuman reflexes.
“Hey!” The protest escaped me instantly as both wrists were suddenly held captive, and Atlas looked entirely unapologetic as he raised them up above my head and pinned them there.
Something that quickly made me breathless and forget what our banter had been about.
The movement was quick enough to surprise me, yet gentle enough that it never felt like restraint.
He then transferred them into one palm, held there with one hand, his expression growing increasingly smug as I immediately tested his grip.
“You were saying, little fighter?” He hummed with satisfaction.
“Oh, I have a lot to say, you bossy king,” I growled at him, but neither of us took it seriously. But the smile tugging at Atlas’s mouth immediately made me suspicious.
“You see?” he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“There it is.”
I frowned and walked straight into another trap by asking, “What?”
“That look,” he replied, and my eyes narrowed automatically before I feigned ignorance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leaned down closer, keeping most of his weight off me with his free hand by my head.
“The one that appears right before you make a terrible decision,” Atlas whispered in my ear, and an outraged scoff escaped me.
“I make excellent decisions, thank you very much.”
The laugh that answered me was low and warm, and completely as addictive as the rest of them.
“You threw a king onto the floor,” he reminded me, making me smile at the memory.
“You deserved it.”
The fact that he wasn’t even attempting to deny it made me instantly suspicious again. Then his smile widened.
“I probably did.”
The admission caught me off guard long enough that I forgot to argue back.
This was for two reasons, the first was the moment his mouth found my throat.
He lingered there, his teeth grazing the tender skin before closing just enough to send a shiver through me, the gesture feeling less like a bite and more like a warning.
The second was when something started to stir beneath my skin, and my breath caught.
The sensation was familiar now, yet no less startling. A warmth spread through the marks on my wrists, not painful, not overwhelming, but alive somehow. It felt like standing in sunlight after weeks of rain, like recognition and comfort and home woven together into something impossible to explain.
Atlas felt it too.
His amusement faded as they seemed to link directly to him. No longer just a key to open the Rift, but something more profound.
A tether that anchored him to me.
Slowly, his gaze dropped to where his hand held my wrists, witnessing for himself the way my scars had begun to glow under his palm.
Softly at first.
Then brighter, as if reaching out to him.
Silver light traced the familiar patterns etched into my skin, pulsing gently beneath his touch, responding to his presence. The room seemed to fall away around us as we watched the marks awaken, answering something ancient and unseen that existed between us.
Atlas’s eyes darkened before gold flickered through them. It wasn’t the sharp burn of anger or power; it was something deeper.
Something hungry.
Heated.
His thumb brushed lightly across one of the glowing lines, and another pulse of warmth spread through me. His gaze lifted to mine, and the look on his face made me forget to breathe.
There was wonder there.
Possession. Absolution. Relief.
A thousand unspoken emotions tangled together beneath the surface before he then whispered, “My anchor.”
The words settled deep within me as his eyes moved over my face as though he was searching for something he had waited a lifetime to find. Then his forehead lowered to mine before gentle words followed.
“There she is.”
The tenderness in his voice undid me far more effectively than any teasing remark ever could.
Then, with the distance between us now eliminated, his lips finally met mine.
A kiss that felt less like surrender and more like coming home.
I let out a breathy sigh of pleasure as I arched into him.
My hands put pressure on his hold, telling him silently to release me.
The desperate need to touch him had me fighting for freedom, and he quickly got the hint.
As soon as my hands were free, they immediately sought him out. The second my palms touched his bare skin, I felt the reaction ripple through him, a subtle tightening beneath my fingertips. A shudder that seemed to travel the length of his body before every muscle became taut.
His strength had always fascinated me, but now, feeling it beneath my hands, knowing he was reacting to me just as strongly as I was reacting to him, sent another wave of heat spiraling through my chest.
Atlas lifted his head slightly, studying me with an expression that was becoming increasingly difficult to think around. There was satisfaction there, but beneath it lingered something that made me feel seen in a way I still hadn’t entirely grown used to.
Which was why my hands wandered lower, skimming down his sides before hooking into the waistband of his trousers, my intentions becoming considerably less subtle.
“Are you being impatient again?” he asked, the amusement in his voice made me narrow my eyes.
“I don’t know. Are you being ridiculously slow?” I countered, and he lifted a dark brow.
“You mean taking my time?” His answer only made me groan.