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“No touching. Got it.”
When we’d settled in, a pillow between us, his breathing slowed, and I thought maybe he’d already fallen asleep until he whispered, “You never accepted my apology.” I turned to face him, and he slid the pillow down, so he could look at me. “Will you forgive me?”
“I guess. And I’m half sorry I took most of your clothes off.”
He chuckled, looking back at the massive moon we lay beneath. “I’m going to disappoint you by the end of this. Maybe I should apologize for that now, too.”
“You could choose not to,” I whispered, nearly holding my breath.
His pillow crinkled as he shook his head. “The way I feel is not a choice. No matter what your Goddess or anyone else says. And I don’t reject women. I’m not afraid of anything. Least of all that. I just like my life the way it is.”
I couldn’t respond. I’d hoped that something might have been cracking within him. But I wouldn’t have been there if it were that easy. So, I rolled away, letting the exhaustion take me.
His whisper pulled me from the cusp of sleep. “Do you think they’ll come again tonight?”
I yawned. “I hope not.”
He reached over and took my hand, squeezing. “Me, too.”
* * *
The season seemed to change overnight, though I refused to open my eyes. The Spirits didn’t come, but I was certain we were being cooked alive within our bubble. Until I twisted and realized it was not, in fact, the change of a season, but a massive man wrapped around me, his hot, slow breaths warming my neck.
It was wrong to want to stay there, and I knew it. Of all the men in the world, this one, specifically, would lead to certain heartache. I needed to harden my feelings and keep him at a distance, but that was a difficult admission. Especially when I remembered what he’d looked like half-naked last night. Freezing cold and steaming mad. Staring at me like he either wanted to end me or ruin me in all the best ways.
The mental image of laying here with him now stirred something within me. I swore I had self-control, but the pillow between us had long gone, and something else rested in its place, pushing firmly against my ass. Even as I tried to talk myself into restraint, I wiggled backward. Not to stir the beast, but only to feel him. To satisfy a craving wrapped in curiosity.
His arm tightened around me, those slow breaths rapidly increasing as he stirred awake, though he did not move away. Feeling his heartbeat against my back, I could tell the second his thoughts changed to mirror mine. I stayed perfectly still, barely chancing a breath as his hand moved from my shoulder, lower and lower, until that massive palm rested at the top of my waistband. He waited, wordless, breathless, for me to urge him forward or make him back off. Together, we danced on the edge of a steep cliff. Though there were no words, I knew this game.
I had no coherent thoughts as I anticipated him going further. Sliding those fingers over me. Into me. He inched closer, dipping below the waistband. My eyes fell shut. Eagerness filled me until I could have melted into a puddle as he moved the tiniest bit.
“You have to say you want it, Frostbite,” he rumbled into my ear, the early morning turning his voice into something feral.
I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t. Goddess, did I want it. Want him. The pulse between my legs was practically screaming for him to move three inches lower and feel how badly I wanted him. Needed him.
He pressed his lips to the back of my ear and growled, sending a wave of heat down my spine. I had seconds to decide. But my brain and body were at war with each other. And that’s how I knew I couldn’t follow through. If both parts of me were not willing, then I needed to say no. But damn, did I hate myself for it.
I twisted, turning to face him. Staring into those tired, icy blue eyes. He did not fault me for one second.
Instead, he leaned forward, kissed me on the nose, and said, “Good morning, asshole.”
I couldn’t help the laughter. I couldn’t even help the way that beautiful, lopsided grin felt like the best thing in the world to wake up to. And that was the problem. In days, this would all be over. And while Atlas’ heart wasn’t ready for me, I thought mine was ready for him. That was a dangerous trail of thoughts that would only lead to heartache.
He stood, blocking himself with the pillow as he adjusted, then immediately folded the blankets as if nothing happened. He waved a hand, and the door appeared in the dome.
“I’ve got to, uh… take care of some stuff. Give me ten minutes?”
I smirked. “What kind of stuff?”
His grin widened. “Well, Marley… you see when a man wakes up—”
“No. Stop.” I buried my head under my pillow. “Just go. I’ll be here when you’re done playing with yourself.”
“It’s more fun when two people play,” he said, leaving me to my second bout of laughter.
The road to my childhood home was fairly smooth. It came with its own set of reservations, though. And as we crossed back into the Fire Coven, keeping south until we neared the Storm Coven border, the conversation between Atlas and I became non-existent. With the clouds gathering in the distance, the promise of a blizzard on the horizon, I felt that familiar pressing fear. Levin Riverden knew where I once lived. He’d made it his business to know everything there was to possibly know.
I watched the tree line, holding my breath with every sign of movement. I tried not to look back, fearful of alarming Atlas. But by late morning, he pulled the reins to the side and stopped the horses. He stared straight ahead for several seconds before facing me, the scar on his face skewing as he lifted his eyebrow in question.
