Page 6 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“Everyone,” Atlas ground out, then jerked his head toward one of the spiral staircases, roughing a hand over his face. “Let’s go to the Midnight Lounge. I find myself in want of a drink.”
They shuffled their way through the crowd and climbed the stairs. Atlas slid back into the reputation he’d created for himself, once again becoming the playboy prince. He winked and flashed his most charming smile, making sure his dimples were on full display. He kissed hands and wrists, letting his magic slip just a little so the females were damn near feral, and even some of the males were stunned into silence. His sexual appeal knew no bounds, he was in his element. Limitless.
Until he caught sight of his own reflection in the ornate mirror hanging just outside the door to the Midnight Lounge.
Unkempt dark blond hair that always looked messy. Strong jaw and high cheekbones. Eyes that were sometimes gold, then sometimes green. A smile that could win hearts and break them just as quickly. A prince who loathed his father and mourned his mother.
Atlas looked away then, refocusing his attention on the task at hand. He strode into the Midnight Lounge, the most exclusive area in the Grand Cru where only Prava’s wealthiest nobles and merchants could find a seat. The balcony was enclosed with reflective glass, so he could see out, but no one else couldsee inside. Here, the music wasn’t loud and pulse-pounding. It was smooth and sensual, a low hum that echoed through his bones. Sleek, black leather sofas were scattered about, with small granite tables for idle conversation, and dark corners for more intimate encounters. The lounge had its own private bar and bartender. All Atlas had to do was raise a hand and a server would instantly appear to answer his beck and call.
This time, he stalked right up to the bar, ordered two shots of honeyfire, and downed them both. The golden liquid tasted like sweetened smoke, though the burn down the back of his throat did little to ease the frustration coursing through him. Caedian’s brows narrowed slightly at the quick consumption, but he said nothing. He’d grown accustomed to his prince’s indulgences, even though he knew much of it was forced.
Atlas found an empty sofa near the balcony overlooking the dance floor, knowing he wouldn’t be alone for long. It was only a matter of time before some female charmed her way onto his lap. But for now, he had an excellent view, where he could see everyone and everything. Including a certain dark-haired faerie with stardust on her cheeks.
No matter how much Atlas tried to relax, no matter how much he wanted to drink and smoke as many stigs as possible, something else took up residence in his mind. Despite everything, he couldn’t shake the image of Everinne leaping from that chandelier, or the heart-stopping fear that pierced him when she fell.
Three
“Come on, Everinne.” Zoryana dragged her through the crowd, toward the exit of the Grand Cru.
But if Everinne was being completely honest, her knees were still trembling from that damn near disaster, and the heels she wore were making it far too difficult to walk.
She didn’t turn around to look at him again, but she’d already witnessed Atlas disappear into the Midnight Lounge, and she highly doubted he would come back out. Especially not to scold her. He probably already had some willing female straddling his lap with her breasts shoved up into his face while she was busy getting him off.
Everinne rolled her eyes, ignoring the wave of dizziness that swept through her.
Typical.
If Atlas hadn’t distracted her, she would’ve made that jump. Now, he looked like the hero and she looked like she’d fallen on purpose just so he would catch her.
He was infuriating.
Maddening.
“Everinne.” Zoryana’s soft voice jolted her from her spiraling thoughts, and Everinne blinked, refocusing on her friend.Zoryana’s jade green eyes clouded over and she laced their fingers together, pulling her closer. There was the faintest hint of sage and juniper as her magic coasted over Everinne, stealing away her anger. Goosebumps pebbled her flesh, and it was as though Zoryana wrapped the thread of wrath around her finger, then gently tugged, luring the aggressive emotion from out of Everinne’s heart.
“I’m fine.” Everinne loosed a shaky breath, calming herself. Her blood cooled, quieting the cruel monster she struggled to keep locked within its cage. And her magic—so violent in nature, it granted her the ability to inflict unimaginable pain—fell silent once more.
But Atlas’s words continued to haunt her.
Careful, Ever. Your magic is showing.
She’d almost slipped in front of him, had almost exposed that singular part of herself she hated more than anything. He knew, of course, what she was capable of doing. Just as he knew the kind of suffering she could inflict. Atlas was one of the few who could get under her skin, who could trigger her emotions enough to send her into a turbulent spiral. It was one of the main reasons she couldn’t stand to be around him. It was why Zoryana was the only friend she’d ever managed to keep. She’d witnessed the darkest parts of Everinne, all her jagged pieces, and she’d stayed by her side in spite of it all.
Because when Everinne lost control of her emotions, she also lost her restraint. Her vicious magic scraped its way to the surface, unleashing a swell of raging agony. Anyone who stood in her way would fall victim to her torment. She was powerful enough to break hearts and shatter minds, to hurt and wound beyond repair, leaving nothing more than a husk of a soul. The worst was when she killed someone.
It had only happened once, but the memory of it was marked upon her flesh. A tattoo had formed around her wrist in theshape of a vine, and from it, a flower appeared. A blood rose, with crimson petals tinged by black, because the bloom always looked as though it was weeping blood.
She stole a hasty glance down at her wrist. “I need another drink.”
“Absolutely not.” Zoryana shook her head and sent her rich brown spirals tumbling. “I told Prince Atlas I was getting you out of here.”
She tugged lightly but Everinne slipped free. Taking a step back, she fell into the outlying shadows of the Grand Cru, where the blinding dance lights didn’t quite reach. “I can’t go home, Zory. Not yet.”
She sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to understand.
If she went home now, to the deafening quiet of her apartment, it would only be a matter of time before she was consumed by the nightmares that plagued her. Either she drank herself into oblivion in an effort to fall unconscious, or she didn’t sleep at all. There was no in between.
Zoryana’s stern expression softened, but her kohl-lined gaze flicked to one of the balconies jutting out above them. “If he finds out you stayed, you know he’s going to tell Veros.”
