Page 45 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
She huffed, her warm breath tickling the underside of his chin. “I could’ve gotten a ride myself.”
“And I could’ve let you.”
But fuck if his raging jealousy hadn’t gotten the better of him. He had no idea why he went after her once she fled the dining hall. All he knew was that if Lord Tovian touched or kissed her one more time, he would set fire to the whole of his city.
“So, you chose to scoop me up into the air and fly me back so I could freeze to death?” Everinne snuggled closer, burying her face in his chest. “Sounds noble of you.”
Atlas inhaled sharply, regretting his decision in the next moment. The delicious scent of her, warm caramel layered between rose and black currant, enveloped him. Heat spread through him, pinpricks of desire chasing the sensation. His jaw locked into place. This was Everinne. She was maddening. Infuriating. After that one fateful night where he’d humiliated her beyond all repair, he’d spent years avoiding her, frequenting parlors and venues where he knew she wouldn’t dare step foot in the door. Only to have her in his arms two days in a fucking row.
Mother Goddess…curse him now.
“Do you really have to get married?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
Regret gnawed at him. “Yes.”
“Mm.” She peered up at him. “Pity that.”
Annoyance fired through him, and he swooped down through the clouds until the rooftop of her apartment came into view. “It’s not my choice.”
He was being bent to his father’s will. Again.
“I’m sure it’s not.”
Her fake smile caused his teeth to grind.
“I wouldn’t imagine the prince of pleasure would be too happy about having to give up his most favorite activity.”
Atlas grabbed her chin, forcing her face upward, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He wouldn’t dare tell Everinne about the first time he took a lover, he wouldn’t mention how that female was the one who snuck away from his bed before dawn broke. She told anyone who would listen about the size of his cock, the skill of his tongue, and how his magic rendered her useless after a night of seemingly endless orgasms. The next thing Atlas knew, females from all over the city were flocking to him like bees to honey, desperate for a chance to share his bed. At first he was cocky, thinking his looks and charm had something to do with their sudden interest. But what he thought was flattery soon became gross obsession coupled with vile lies. It was then his reputation had branded him. It was then he realized he would have to discard females before they could discard him.
“Oh, really?” Everinne jerked away from his grasp, her eyes full of turquoise fire, the gold in them sparking like flames. “So, you don’t seek out a new female every week?”
He glared at her. “More like every night.”
Her lips curled in disgust. “How lucky for them.”
Now it was Atlas’s turn to smile. “You sound jealous, Wildheart.”
“Not as jealous as you when Lord Tovian took an interest in me,” she spat, fueling his anger.
“Yeah, and you crawled toward his affection like a cat in heat,” Atlas snapped. “Next time, just ask him to bend you over the table. It’d be far less shameful.”
The sting of her hand against his cheek hit so hard, he almost dropped her.
She yanked her arm from around his neck, then bunched both of her hands into fists against his chest. “You fucking bastard.”
“No.” Atlas shook his head and dove between two buildings toward her apartment. “You don’t get to act like your feelings are hurt. You don’t get to call me a whore, then not expect any kind of backlash for your own behavior.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Everinne muttered.
“And what’s that?” he asked, more annoyed than he cared to admit.
But when she looked up at him again, there was an unfamiliar sheen in her eyes.
Fuck.
She was going to cry.
