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“It’s divine, isn’t it?” Keon says, licking his lips. “It means she’s healthy, amorous. She wants to be fucked.”
I wish he wasn’t right, but I would let either one of these men do terribly dirty things to me. Even if Atlas just wanted to watch at first, I would be fine with it.
“Is that true?” Atlas asks, his voice still quiet. His eyes are hooded when he looks back at me, and my lips part at the expression on his face. Before, he wasn’t giving me anything, but a combination of scarlet and violet now swirls in his irises. “You want to be fucked, Penelope?”
I nod, my voice a whisper. “Yes.”
The room has gone silent again, the partygoers hanging on my every word. I see Corvus out of the corner of my eye, his irises burning gold. The only person who seems less than rattled is Keon, but I assume he gets as much ass as he wants.
This is nothing new for him.
Atlas puts down his drink on a table beside him, stepping forward until he’s just a foot away. For a breathless, aching moment, I think that he might just fuck me in front of all these people–because I don’t know how the Aelyds do things, and we’re already talking about it. But he stops short, his thumb twirling that ruby ring on his index finger.
“I will give you what your scent demands,” Atlas says. “But I want to get to know you first.”
Okay—that, I’m not expecting. When I got my debrief with First Wave before leaving Earth, I was told the families tend to treat our women like livestock. I came into this thinking I would be used and bred—and I wasn’t totally averse to the idea, as long as I got the job done and had my pleasure along the way.
But Atlas en’Ganivet wants to get to know me first.
And that just makes me even hornier for him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
?
PENN
“Come here,” Atlas says, gesturing at a chair opposite his. It’s smaller, like it was made for me. “Speak with me. I’ll pour you a drink.”
I don’t know where this change of attitude came from, but I appreciate it. I glance over at Keon, and he gives me an encouraging smile before flicking his eyes toward the window. Atlas is already pouring another glass of lavender booze in another tumbler, fully expecting me to join him. The guards step aside, too, gesturing me into his inner circle.
Not to touch, I don’t think. I’m pretty sure someone would chop my hands off if I reached for him, and he definitely has a forcefield on—emanating from his wristwatch, maybe. But at least he’s already invited me to talk to him, and that alone is progress.
I take an uneasy seat in the other chair, realizing that my skirt is short enough to ride up my thighs. When he sits down, he’ll be able to see black lace underneath. I welcome him taking in the view by crossing my legs loosely, leaving a gap.
This is how the seduction begins. It might be slow, but I need to eliminate Atlas en’Ganivet if I want to save my best friend.
He turns around and puts my drink down on the table beside me, not offering it by hand. So he doesn’t intend on touching me—not here and now, at least. I pick it up and swirl it in the glass before bringing it to my lips, inhaling a distinctly botanical scent.
“What is it?” I say.
Atlas takes a heavy, deliberate seat in the chair opposite me, picking up his own glass. “Incarnet. It’s fermented from a flower in the Ganivet Valley,” he says. “Sweet, with a musky aftertaste. Try it.”
I take a cautious sip, and groan slightly at the flavor. It’s delicious, like elderflower with a hint of lavender. “I like it,” I say, my voice huskier than I intend.
Well, I’m not going to have to pretend to be attracted to him. Apparently that’ll be entirely natural.
“Good,” Atlas says, his deep voice rumbling in my bones. He sips his drink and lowers his eyes down my body, his gaze lingering on my breasts before moving to my hips. He licks his lips and breathes deeply when he sees that peek of lace, and I know he’s hooked. “So, Penelope. Tell me about yourself.”
What’s there to tell?I played lacrosse in high school, got a scholarship for it in college. You don’t know what that is. Oh, also, I’m an assassin with an all-woman spy organization!
I don’t say that.
“I can’t think of anything you would find interesting,” I say.
“You spoke your mind a few minutes ago,” he says. “I already find you interesting.”
Sothat’swhat brought him over to my side. He liked it when I stood up for myself. I don’t know if that’s because he wants to respect me, or because he likes his women a bit bratty. Maybe both.
