Page 56 of Lore of the Wicked Wood
Everinne couldn’t fault her. Working in a place like the Mystic Obscura, where exotic nights blurred into forgotten days, it seemed only natural that someone would simply lose track of time.
She switched out of her clothing and slipped into the bodysuit. It crushed her breasts, shoving them upward, but the satin straps offered her security and would keep them in place while she was on the hoops. The lower half of the suit cut high up her thighs, and dozens of misshaped diamonds fell like fringe, tinkling with every movement. Again, Aisling worked her own kind of magic, fanning out the liner across the tops of Everinne’s eyes and painting her lips a deep, cherry red. Everinne strapped on a pair of heels that looped around her ankles, and then her new friend was hustling her out the door, warning her not to be late.
She stepped out into the hall, glancing long enough behind her to catch Reine shuffling into one of the rooms further down the dimly lit corridor.
That was fine, Everinne had a better sense of direction now, and made her way back up the winding staircase to the grand stage easily enough. Except when she arrived, Reine was there waiting for her.
Everinne almost lost her footing and threw one arm out, grasping the railing for support. She looked behind her, back the way she came, then back up at Reine. “How did you…”
“How did I what?” Reine asked, tilting her head so that her pin straight hair fell like a curtain of rich brown silk.
Everinne blinked, shaking off the confusion. “I could’ve sworn I just saw you go into one of the rooms below the menagerie.”
Reine laughed, and the golden spirals hanging from her ears slithered like tiny snakes. She placed one hand on her hip, then leaned against the bronze railing. “I wish I could be in two places at once. Sometimes I feel like I’m running around in circles here.”
She clicked her tongue, her hooded eyes sliding to the vast audience. “Someone is always needing something.”
“Running the Mystic Obscura must take a lot of effort.” Everinne climbed the last few steps, preparing to go on stage. “I’m sure it’s exhausting.”
“You have no idea.” Reine gestured to the stage, and the swath of glamour enveloped them both. “You remember the word?”
“Yes.” Everinne nodded, catching sight of a smudge of red on the back of Reine’s hand. “You’ve got something on your hand. Just there.”
Reine glanced down sharply and sighed, smearing the streak of crimson away with her thumb. “Lipstick,” she muttered. “Unfortunately, not all of my performers are as talented with makeup application as Aisling.”
Then she slid past Everinne, the train of her black velvet gown pooling around her like a midnight lake. A warm smile lifted her lips, and she nodded in encouragement. “You’re up, Everinne.”
The same solid gold hoop appeared before Everinne and she reached out, gripping it tightly with one hand. Magic coated her skin, a soothing comfort as the glamour rippled around the outer edges of the stage, waiting patiently for her.
“Trivno.”
At once, the hoop lifted into the air, suspending her high above the rows of balconies where the audience fixated upon whatever wonder awaited them beyond the shimmering veil of the stage. Somewhere out there, watching and seated upon a chair like a throne, was Atlas.
Nervous energy crackled through Everinne.
Just for tonight, she would dance for him.
Eighteen
Atlas sat in his suite, his fingers tapping a haphazard rhythm against the glass of honeyfire, his gaze focused on the stage before him. At some point, a servant had entered with a container full of his favorite popcorn, but he’d left it on the side table, discarded and untouched. The warm lights of the chandelier dimmed, shrouding the balcony in darkness, and a singular beam of silver light reflected off the gossamer curtains of glamour. They shimmered as the first chords of music resonated through the Mystic Obscura, and then the magic fell away.
A golden hoop hovered from a dizzying height, and perched along its bottom curve was Everinne.
Atlas’s heart stopped.
Fucking gods, she was beautiful.
Her outfit was as blue as the deepest part of the ocean, the tiny straps on her shoulders hardly looked strong enough to hold the bodice in place. It cinched her waist, cut incredibly high to reveal her shapely hips, and hundreds of diamonds spilled over her thighs. Waves of dark hair tumbled down her back with ribbons of sapphire satin twisted throughout. Thick liner fanned out from the corner of her eyes, giving them a smoky look,and her lips…damn, those lips. His thoughts were an incoherent mess, and he found himself debating whether he should remain in his suite or toss her over his shoulder and haul her to his bed. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more magnetizing, more spellbinding, until she started to dance.
Everinne spun and twirled on the hoop like a ballerina waltzing on air. She was fluid and graceful, performing the splits and bending her body with subtle elegance. Her flexibility left Atlas’s mouth dry, and he swallowed a gulp of honeyfire, wincing as the heat of it stole down the back of his throat. She hooked her knees onto the hoop and bent backwards, releasing it and stretching out her arms wide as though she was an offering. A gift to the gods.
If she could move like that on a hoop, there was no telling what she was capable of in the bedroom.
His cock thickened at the thought.
Atlas leaned forward, propping his elbows on the balcony’s smooth ledge, slowly swirling his glass of honeyfire.
Dipping back, she gradually dragged one leg off the hoop, lengthening it in front of her. Gasps and murmurs of appreciation echoed through the audience, and when Everinne smiled, her turquoise eyes were on him.
