Page 53 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
“The same thing I used to do when I frequented the place for a good time.” Her gaze darkened and he smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Sit in my suite with a carton of buttered rum popcorn and watch the show.”
Everinne crossed her arms in a silent challenge. “Fine.”
“Fine.” He smiled again. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Lovely,” she muttered, stomping over to her closet and rummaging through it.
She pulled the door wide so it concealed her from view, and the next thing he saw was the sweater she wore flying across the room. It missed the bed, landing on the floor near his feet, and Atlas bit the inside of his cheek. She draped a cropped black leather coat over her arm, then slowly eased back, peeking at him from the other side of the open door. All he could see were glimpses of bare skin and the tingling sensation of desire rippled through him.
“Atlas?”
He kicked one ankle over the other as he watched her study him. “Yes, Wildheart?”
She rubbed her lips together, then glanced hastily about her bedroom. Her gaze landed on the floor where she’d been unconscious in his arms only minutes before. “Are you going to tell Veros about…the nightmare?”
“No.”
“You answered so fast this time.” Everinne’s lips curved, and she stepped out from behind the closet door in a pair of leggings and shiny red top covered in gold beads that showed off her toned stomach and the fullness of her breasts. She pulled on a thick coat, it stopped just below her waist, and then slipped her hands into the pockets. “Maybe you’re getting good at keeping secrets after all.”
Atlas nodded. “Maybe.”
But this particular secret would be one he took to his grave. Because there had only been one possible explanation for Atlas to be able to slip into her mind, there was only one reason he could hear her thoughts and join her dreams. It was something he had suspected for a while now, something he’d known but had refused to admit, even to himself.
Everinne Auvyre was his mate.
Seventeen
Everinne stared at thearcanic volt, her lips tugging to one side.
She’d seen dozens of them zipping through the city, and she’d seen Atlas ride his own a handful of times, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach at the thought of riding one with him. The rider and passenger seats were black leather, and given their size, she would be pressed incredibly close to Atlas. Which was fine. Completely fine. One headlight in the front flashed bright silver while the one in the back burned red. A curved sheet of shiny black metal glowed where the arcane magic hummed, powering the two-wheeled vehicle to life. Small pegs stuck out from either side, where she assumed she was supposed to put her feet, and sparks of blue arcane fire shot from a cylinder tube in the rear.
It was fascinating yet oddly terrifying.
“Take this.” Atlas glamoured her a helmet that matched the one he yanked on over his head. Whereas his was a matte black, hers was the color of crushed amethysts.
Everinne grasped the helmet with both hands, then crinkled her nose. “It’ll ruin my hair.”
Atlas glanced over at her, the helmet and visor concealing his face so only the tips of his ears were visible. “Just put it on, Ever.”
She sighed, more dramatically than was necessary, but tugged the helmet on over her head. The visor covering her eyes tinted the world in a vibrant purple hue. Fussing with her hair, she attempted to adjust it and shove it back behind her ears, but the snug helmet made it impossible. Two straps dangled beneath her chin, and though she tried to clip them together, she couldn’t quite line them up on her own.
“Here, let me help you.” Collecting the straps from her, Atlas expertly snapped them in place, securing them for a perfect fit.
She stared up at him, silently longing to flip up his visor to catch a glimpse of his eyes. His knuckles grazed the underside of her jaw, and a heady zing of desire speared right through her. There was something devastatingly attractive about him and that damn helmet.
“There.” He stepped back and slung one leg over thevolt, then held out his hand to her. “Climb on.”
“I’ve never ridden on one before.” Everinne grasped his hand, carefully situating herself behind him.
She was absolutely right.
There was no shred of space between them, no clear definition of where he began and where she ended.
“It’s easy.” He raised his voice and revved thevolt, the hum of it reverberating all the way to her bones. “Just hold on to me and you’ll be fine.”
Everinne did as she was instructed and wrapped both of her arms around Atlas’s waist. The thrumming intensified, and when Atlas kicked up the stand with the back of his heel, she held onto him even tighter. In the next second, thevoltdarted forward and she squealed in delight.
Starysa became a dizzying blur of dazzling lights and beautiful colors, a painting smeared by the hands of motion. She stole quick glances, left and right, desperately trying to take it all in. The buildings and shops whirred past them, a late-night wonderland come to life, and she’d never witnessed anything more thrilling. The pulsing district of parlors and bars illuminated the streets in washes of vivid colors, and through the chaotic clusters of people and pounding music, Everinne spotted the Grand Cru.
