Somehow, some way, he can feel what Atticus desires and what he thinks. Whether that means he carries some bit of Atticus’s subconscious or he has some weird, psychic connection to him, he knows.
I guess he could be lying about it, but I don’t see why he would.
“He wants me too?” I ask, suddenly desperate for him to say yes. “Atticus wants me to come over?”
“Oh,sic,” My Atticus purrs. “He wants to see you so very badly. You must go.”
“O-okay,” I gasp, my balls drawing up at the mere mention of actually seeing him again. “I’ll go.”
“But,” he interjects, voice suddenly serious as he stops stroking me, holding me in a firm grip instead. “You will need to find the book.”
“The book?”
“TheNigrum Librum.TheBlack Book.It is in his room.”
“Why am I grabbing a suspicious book?” I ask, suddenly more aware of what he’s saying. “Does he want me to? What is it?”
A cruel, sadistic smile takes over his lips, and for the first time since that night he first came to my room, I’m a bit scared.
“He may not like this, butIwill,” he tells me.
“B-but—” My words die out, turning into a rough moan as My Atticus begins to stroke me again, bringing me to the edge with a skillful quickness.
“Listen. You listen so well,corculum.Get the book, and I will meet you in the room. If you do this, we can be like this forever.”
“Forever?” I mimic, tasting it on my tongue, loving the way it cradles me.
“Forever. You will never be alone again,” he promises.
And that’s all it takes. Surely this guy wouldn’t do anything to hurt the real Atticus, not when they’re clearly connected in some way, and the temptation is too much.
Having Atticus forever, even in this way? I would do anything.
After I come—my favorite part—I load up into my Mustang with My Atticus in the passenger seat. He looks uncomfortable, as if he’s never truly been in one before.
The roads are mostly dead for this time of night, and the closer I get to Chastain Castle, the more nervous I am.
Side-eyeing the mark on My Atticus’s wrist, I squirm in my seat.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask him.
“Sic.I am sure,” he answers confidently.
We’re silent for the rest of the drive. The rain beats down onto the windshield, the wind roaring above the soft playing of Metallica through the radio.
Once we arrive at the gates of Chastin Castle, My Atticus leans over me, enveloping me in his scent, the cool touch of him as he punches in a code.
“How…” But I don’t finish. In the grand scheme of things, his knowing the entry code doesn’t really matter.
I’m about to sneak inside and raid Atticus’s bedroom while he’s sleeping in bed. Fuck, am I committing a crime? Is he going to hate me again?
I have no time to debate. I switch off the headlights as we approach the estate, just as we did that night Cassie and I snuck in with Julian, and park the car by the large, gothic fountain.
“The front door is open,” My Atticus tells me, nodding toward the door.
“Y-you’re not coming?” I ask, freezing with my hand on the handle of my car. “I have to go alone?”
“I will meet in the room.”
