Page 80 of A Ballad of Beasts and Brothers

I turn toward Atlas, "Do you want to dance?"

His molten eyes want something from me, but dancing isn't it. "I'll watch."

Before I can protest, Nyx and Ronan drag me to the scuffed-up dance floor. More people are joining the small space, loving the upbeat music the three-man band is playing. The tempo, the rhythm, the sensuality of it, reminds me so much of Bava. Atlas watched me then, too. Leaning against a building with his eyes fixated on me. I made sure to give him a good show then, and I plan to do the same thing tonight. The thought of us pawing at one another, kissing, teasing, touching in his bedroom weeks ago bubbles within me. I want him to pin me against one of the walls in here and claim me for himself.

I know when I used to drink wine in Midori, if I had too much, my inhibitions would be lowered, and I'd sometimes do or say something that had my parents glaring daggers my way. But they aren't here. And the beer has given me enough liquid courage to spin, so I can meet Atlas' ever watchful gaze and swivel my hips, roll my belly and give him a tantalizing show. I want him and I know he wants me, too. I don't know what's holding him back from just taking me. From his own mouth he confessed he wasn't seeing anyone in any kingdom and before the other two showed up I could have sworn he was going to tell me how he felt about me.

Maybe I'm way off, but I don't think I am.

Those green eyes I've come to find great comfort in, slowly fade to violet, but I don't see his shadows anywhere. He must be fighting with great difficulty to keep the shadowy tendrils hidden, but I've come to realize that whenever he's trying to restrain himself from touching me, his shadows unleash to do the touching for him. I flash him a sultry smile and let my hands drag up and down my body. Slowly, I rotate my hips as I lower myself to the floor before I rise just as unhurried. His grip on his stein tightens to the point I think he's going to break the glass handle off.

Beside me, Nyx and Ronan are moving their bodies in rhythm with the beat, but they aren't alone anymore. Two women have slipped into their grasps and my desire for Atlas to hold me the way they're holding those women consumes me.

Suddenly, I feel lightheaded, and I close my eyes to regain my bearings. When I open my eyes again, Atlas is in front of me, slipping his arms around my waist and drawing me close. He drops his mouth to my ear and instead of saying something sensual that would make my toes curl, he whispers, "I think I should get you back to the house."

I stare up at him, brow furrowed. "Why?"

"You look like you're about to pass out. You might have had too much to drink."

I know he's probably right. Until tonight, I'd never had a beer, and I certainly hadn't chugged one before. The dizziness intensifies and I stumble a step, but I don't fall because Atlas' firm grip on me keeps me upright.

"Let's get you home. I'll draw you a warm bath."

I nod in agreement. A nice warm bath sounds perfect, and I really don't need to make a fool of myself in front of all of these people.

Atlas says something to the other two about us leaving, before helping me to the back door of the bar. "We'll avoid everyone by going out the back way."

I welcome the blast of cold air that consumes me the second we step outside. I hadn't realized how humid it was inside, but breathing in some fresh air is just what I needed for the nausea I was feeling to go away.

Slipping his hand in mine, Atlas tugs me down the dark alley toward the main street. "Let's get you home, Prin – "

Without thinking, I push him against the bricks of the rowhouse beside the bar and press my body against his. I kiss his neck and slip my hand lower, lower, lower but I'm stopped short of my intended target when he grabs my wrists. Twisting us, I'm now the one pinned against the wall with my wrists held above my head, but instead of his lips crashing against mine, he just stares at me.

"Why won't you kiss me?" I whine.

"Believe me, I want to, but you've had too much to drink, and your inhibitions are lowered. You'll do things you'll regret tomorrow."

"I won't regret this," I try pushing against him, but he has me firmly pinned.

"We should get you home, so you can sleep this off." He releases my wrists and retreats a step.

I slide down the wall, embarrassed and angry and horny. Rubbing the heels of my palms against my reddening face, I shake my head in frustration. "I'm obviously making a fool of myself," I scoff. "I don't know why I thought you were attracted to me in the first place. We've kissed a couple times but that doesn't mean anything –"

Atlas crouches in front of me and snatches my hands from my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Of course I want you, woman. I find you so attractive it's maddening."

"Then why won't you kiss me now?"

Like he always does before saying something of importance, he takes a second to choose his words. With an almost defeated sigh, he admits, "I can't do what I really want with you while you're still engaged to another man. You're already dealing with enough. I won't cloud your mind with mixed feelings about me when there's a good chance you might not stay."

"And if I stay?" I ask, my selfish desire to have him bed me is my only true motivation right now. I can't guarantee I'll stay with him, but I would like to think there's a greater purpose for us. Our Tethering will always connect us. It's then I realize I haven't talked to him about the Tethering or our Transcendent states since our excursion to Kazamere and I certainly haven't confessed that my intentions of marrying Bastian have changed. I'm ready to blurt everything out but stop short when his voice rings out.

"When I claim you, there will be no doubt in your mind that you love me, that you're mine and mine alone. I won't share you with another," he says darkly, "even if he is hundreds of miles away. And I certainly won't have you in this dark alley where I can't fully see or enjoy you. That's why I won't let this happen tonight."

"Atlas, I – "

He slips his hands around my waist and hoists me up into his arms and carries me toward the street. Neither one of us says another word on the walk home and quite frankly, I don't remember making it to the Harland House or being tucked into my bed. But I'll never forget how my name sounded coming from his lips, and how I desperately want to hear him say it again.

Twenty-Three

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