Page 53 of Atlas and the Traitor

Robin brought their lips back together, bruising and soft. Balanced. “And mine to yours.”

The only fight after that was over where to fuck: against the windows—too distracting; on the couch—too soft; in the bedroom—way too far away. They settled on the living room floor, with Atlas astride his lap, riding his cock, while Robin stroked Atlas’s length with his spit-slick fist. Getting them off together just as the fog rolled back from the shore, giving way to the bright midday sun that streamed in through the windows and painted a sweaty head-thrown-back Atlas in shades of orange and gold.

On fire, with no shield between them to stop the smell of spring from filling the air around them, from filling their souls.

Robin would fight anyone to protect this connection, this mate he’d never wanted and now couldn’t imagine his life without. And when it was all over, he couldn’t wait to run with Atlas out there in the sun.

Thirty-Five

“Evan wants us to think tomorrow night’s spell will take place at the altar in the Canyon Lands.” Robin rested his forearms against the back of the chair at the head of the cellar tasting table, next to where Atlas sat, as far away from Mary and Icarus at the other end as possible. The warlock might understand why Mary had killed his older brother, but he wasn’t ready to forgive her yet. Robin couldn’t blame him.

“Where’s it going down for real?” Jason asked from Atlas’s other side.

“La Purisima.”

Icarus dropped the sweater he was panic crocheting, the metal hooks clattering to the table, his forehead following suit as he thunked it against the weathered wood. “Fuck me.”

“Home sweet home,” Atlas singsonged, and Robin bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a grin. It was a cheap shot, but Atlas’s haughty poking at Icarus felt like the most normal thing in the world right then.

“But LP is full of humans,” Paris said, dampening the admittedly ill-timed humor. The medium was no doubt already contemplating the cleanup work, assuming they survived. He, Mac, and Liam would be busy for days.

“Like picking sacrifices off a tree,” Adam correctly assessed.

“It’s risky,” Abigail said. “The humans could turn on them.”

“Or on us,” Robin added.

“What happens when you don’t show up with Pati and Pax?” Jenn asked from Robin’s other side.

“We’ll call Evan and tell him I killed them.” Robin took the stack of printouts Atlas handed him and tossed them onto the table. Photos of a staged massacre. “I’ll tell Evan what he thinks he already knows. That I’m a traitor.”

“Why would Evan believe you?” Adam asked.

“Because Deborah betrayed him already,” Atlas said. “She was supposed to be his mate, and she chose David and you over him.”

A wide-eyed Adam propped his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands. Robin felt for his friend. Been there, done that, got the head spinning. Icarus coasted a hand over his shoulder while Mac picked up the interrogation.

“He’ll have a backup plan,” the raven said to Atlas. “It won’t be as powerful as Pati and Pax would’ve been, but he’ll be ready.”

“Good thing we have the last barrier between him and Chaos.”

Gazes drifted toward Mary until Robin straightened. “Not her, me.”

Icarus whipped his head up, ginger brows racing north. “You?”

“Evan wants Chaos. I’m ready to take them both. Like my mother did. Like Deborah and I were supposed to do together.”

Multiple gasps of “What?” echoed around the table, except from the green-haired pixie at the other end.

“I thought it was me and Evan,” Atlas explained. “That we were supposed to hold Nature and Chaos together, with Robin and Deborah as our anchors, but Evan’s unanchored and only interested in Chaos. If he succeeded in bringing Chaos through, I was going to channel them both into me and balance the ends, with Robin as my anchor, but it was never me.” He glanced up at Robin, the confidence in his gaze making Robin stand that much taller. “I’m the anchor, he’s the vessel.”

Questions erupted.

“What’s that mean?” from Jason.

“What’s he have to do?” from Paris.

“Will he make it?” from Jenn, her voice rough as she turned in her chair toward Atlas. “I can’t lose any more family.”

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