Chapter 6 #3
Atticus's gaze dropped to my left arm, where the swirling emerald tattoo was now etched into my skin.
Its vines coiled around my wrist and forearm, forming tiny symbols as they wove up my bicep.
It was strange seeing it, the mating bond.
As if it wasn't enough to be linked to this male, to feel his every emotion, to have another presence in my already crowded mind.
Did it also have to be branded onto me as a constant reminder?
Of the bond, of him. I scowled at it, sharing the sentiment with Atticus.
As I pulled my arm from his grasp, his hands slammed onto the armrests on either side of me, gripping tightly, a low rumble emanating from his lips.
“I didn’t like this plan.” He snarled, his voice deep, his eyes fixed on my tattoo.
“You’ll get over it,” I spat back. His silver eyes locked with mine, and I scoffed.
Did he expect an apology? All I wanted was some proper food.
Instead, I had to deal with the duke and now Atticus acting like some jealous boyfriend.
I shoved his arms to release my chair, but his grip only tightened, pulling me and the chair closer.
Atticus spun the chair with a loud screech, turning me to face him fully, his body caging mine.
“Atticus,” I warned, but he only smirked as his gaze slowly raked down my body. His eyes lingering on my breasts before gliding back up to stare at my lips.
“Zar,” he breathed, my name leaving his lips on a soft breath as he leaned forward, his face now only inches from mine.
Lust coiled within me at the heady way he’d said my name, and a shiver traced my spine as Atticus closed the distance.
He sucked my lower lip into his mouth, his teeth scraping my flesh as he released it again.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, raising a brow.
I leaned back slightly, a smirk playing on my lips as my gaze lowered to his. “I don’t remember.”
Atticus let out a breathy laugh and leaned in further, his stubble grazing my cheek, his hot breath a whisper against my ear.
“Seeing you with them was hard, baby,” he murmured, and I might have shivered, even felt something at his words, if I hadn’t noticed his hand palming his dick through his pants.
“Like I said,” I hissed, shoving him in the chest. “you’ll get over it.”
His back hit the chair as I rose to my feet. I was not something to be pissed on, like a dog marking its territory. He didn’t own me, and I certainly did not belong to him or owe him anything.
Atticus shot to his feet as well, a glower on his features as he grabbed my chin, his arm snaking around my waist as he pulled me into him. My palms slammed into his chest, but he ignored me as his silver eyes swirled hungrily.
“I'm not in the mood, Atticus,” I warned again, and he inhaled deeply, the scowl on his face deepening.
“You smell different,” he grunted. “We need to rectify that.”
His mouth immediately crashed onto mine, his lips pressing down hard and forcefully. A hot, boiling anger surged through my veins at his unwelcome kiss, and pain lanced through my left arm, making me wince.
Had the doors not burst open at that precise moment, I would have thrown him across the room.
But Atticus pulled back just as suddenly to see who had interrupted us, though he still held onto my chin possessively.
I wrenched my face from his grip and turned my head toward the door, surprised to see my father striding into the room.
Gormick’s heavy boots slapped against the stone as his angry blue eyes landed on Atticus. The pink, jagged scar only heightened his dark, shadowed features. A black cloak rested on his shoulders, and he snapped, “Why is it I am hunting you down, Atticus?”
Atticus straightened upon seeing my father, his hand dropping from around my waist.
The King’s voice echoed through the room as he boomed, “You were supposed to meet me ten minutes ago.”
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Atticus said, and he dipped into a deep bow before turning to face me again.
“I heard Zara was awake, and I wanted to see her before we left.” He lifted his hand and ran it through my hair, but I batted him away.
That seemed only to amuse him, and a feral smile stretched across his lips as he turned back to my father, who was now standing before us.
My father didn’t look at me, not even a glance as he bit out. “I don’t care. Go.”
Atticus had the good sense to look uneasy as he lowered his head and stepped around him towards the door. Atticus looked back only once, his dark curls falling over his chiseled features as he smirked at me before shutting the door behind him.
I glowered after him, and reluctantly turned my gaze to my father, who was still standing in front of me. His blue eyes met mine, and I could have sworn they softened slightly before he cleared his throat, tension returning to the air around us.
“Daughter.” His face was an icy mask of indifference, his tone formal and detached.
“Father,” I replied, and we held each other's gaze for a long moment. I expected him to say something else, but instead, he turned and followed after Atticus.
Well, that was heartwarming.