It’s a nice balance, and it keeps my days from becoming boring and repetitive.
So, as she parts for the day, ready for dinner with her family and then her night routine with Theodora, I feel a little sad.
That is, until I remember what the end of the day means.
Some time later, after eating, showering, and waiting for the house and its occupants to settle for the night, I make my move.
The castle is eerie and creaks ominously as I sneak up the west staircase. I pay heavy attention to the air around me, having connected the temperature of each room I enter to the presence of that monster. I’m very confident in that theory.
But Hall W4 is cool and quiet as I creep toward the door of the west tower, my bare feet moving soundlessly.
I turn the knob, slipping inside and quickly ascending the steep steps. The door at the top is unlocked tonight.
With the second knob in hand, turned tightly, I take a deep breath.
I plan to walk in and confront Atlas—to ask him if he needs… assistance. But what if I’m wrong about the temperature theory, and the incubus thing is insideright now? What if it hurts me again?
I brush the scab on one cheek with my free hand. It’s mostly healed in the past two days, but it’s still visible. A constant reminder of what the thing is capable of; of what could happen to me at any moment.
But my desire to help, totouch, outweighs my fear in this moment. So, I push the door open just enough to slip inside and close it softly.
Atlas is sitting on his bed, staring straight at me. He does not appear to have been sleeping, his hair neat and soft, and his silky pajamas smooth and uncreased. The bed is made beneath him as he sits in the center, his feet crossed under himself.
“Hey,” I whisper, taking a singular step forward.
His big blue eyes watch me carefully, shyly, as if I hadn't been pressed against the length of him just last night. As if I wasn’tjustconfessing how badly I want to fuck him.
“Hi,” he whispers back.
The tension in the room is so thick, so overwhelming that I can practically taste it: the taste of seawater, sweet sugar, and something smoky and rich.
My heart is beating so angrily that I can feel it pounding against my sternum, and although the room is only mildly warm, my entire body feels hot. I’m burning up in his space, even without the presence of something sinister.
Atlas’s aura still feels threatening and tempting, as if he’ll lean forward and swallow my soul at any moment—only now I know that at his core, he is nothing if not a soft, sweet little thing who so desperately needs reassurance.
I wonder where I feel this insidious feeling from; could it be a lingering effect of the incubus? Or is Atlas just incredibly good at hiding his true nature behind this innocent façade?
Is he truly my little bunny, or a snake in disguise?
I want to rip him apart, piece by piece, and find out.
“Before—” Atlas pauses, shuddering at whatever it is he’ll say next, “We do anything…more, we need to talk.”
“Okay,” I draw slowly, moving until I’m sitting at the foot of his bed, facing him.
Atlas studies my face again, observing me as he gathers himself. He seems serious; I find myself growing anxious about whatever it is he thinks we need to discuss.
Has he changed his mind? Will henotlet me help him?
“You should know what you’re getting yourself into. You should knowexactlywho you’re touching.” The way he says it, Atlas sounds as if he’s disgusted with himself.
“Then tell me,” I demand, “exactly who I’ll be touching.”
He swallows thickly, his throat working in the dim light of the moon coming in from the window on his ceiling.
Atlas’s eyes fall to his own hands for a moment, where they fiddle in his lap, before he takes on a look of pained determination and stares at me head-on.
“I know you saw it once… what the incubus does. But did you understand it? I mean… you want to touch a man who’sbeen defiled by a demon? You would willingly taint yourself that way?”
