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"What do you want me to say, Shaye?" A flash of frustration erupts across his face.
"Maybe, don't marry Thrane? Or don't give into fulfilling some warped sense of duty to a dusty old man?"
"And if I said all of those things, would it even matter?" He squares his shoulders to mine; tension tightens in his frame. "How long would it take for you to resent me? How long would it take for you to hate me for pushing you into abandoning what you've been denied your entire life? A day, a month, a year?"
"I would expect the man whose fingers have been curled inside me to at the very least pretend to put up a fight for my hand" – I eye him up and down with viciousness – "but I suppose I have no one to blame but myself for blind stupidity."
I storm off, denying him the chance to respond, but Atlas isn't going to give up easily. I can hear him chasing after me, weaving in and out of the crowded ballroom. I lose him when a group of giggling Frost Elves pass in front of him, and I slip into the hallway. I'm done with dances, done with making small talk with people I don't know, done with pretending to be alright. I stomp down the corridor, passing couples kissing in the shadows, until I find my bedroom. I fling the door open and slam it behind me, but the loud crash of it closing doesn't sound. I spin around only to find Atlas standing in the threshold, anger marring his features, his hair disheveled.
"We aren't done here." He steps inside and shuts the door behind him.
Thirty-Eight
Atlas
"There's nothing left to say," she snarls at me, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think you made yourself abundantly clear back there."
"Do you want to see me beg? Because I will. Do you want me to lose all sense of control and snap the necks of any man who comes within an arm's length of you? If that's what you want, I'll fucking do it." I stalk toward her, and to her credit, she doesn't back down. "At the end of the day, you have to make the decision that's best for you. I won't be the one to dictate your fate. I'm not Bastian. I'm not your parents. I'll accept whatever choice you make. It doesn't mean I have to like it."
Her face softens, but in a flash her mask is firmly back in place.
"What?" I challenge. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I never said you were like Bastian or my parents, but would it kill you to show me you're worth giving all this up for?"
"When have I not shown you how much I care?" I take another heavy step toward her. "Tell me. What else do I need to do to prove to you that you're all that consumes my thoughts? You're the reason I even wake up in the morning. I've broken all my rules for you. Torn down all my walls and confessed you're the only woman I want. What else do I need to say?"
When she doesn't say anything, I throw my hands up, at my wits end. "You are without a doubt the most infuriating woman!"
"Me!?' she shouts.
"Yes, you!"
She stomps toward me, pointing an accusatory finger into my chest. "I can't believe out of all the men in the Six Kingdoms of Dalerin, I had to fall in love with you!"
My breath is stolen, and words suddenly fail me. I stare at her in bewilderment, but she doesn't seem to realize what she's just confessed.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" She slams her hands on her hips, furrowing her brow.
"What did you just say?" My voice is hoarse, as if I've been screaming for hours.
It's then she seems to register what she said. Fear and embarrassment flickers in her eyes and she opens her mouth, only to immediately slam it shut. By the look on her face, it's apparent she's uttered a phrase she didn't intend to, though I know she means it. Every bit of me is on fire. Her eyes are glued to mine and all I see is hopeful expectation, but before I can say anything, she beelines for the door. She doesn't make it, because I grab her forearm and spin her around, pinning her back against the wall.
"Say it again," I whisper.
Our faces are so close I can smell the jasmine in her hair and the wine on her tongue.
"Shaye?" I plead, like a dying man begging for a sip of water. "Say it again."
My heart feels as if its lodged inside of my throat and I can see her vacillating with telling me the truth or making something up.
"Atlas," she says softly as I plant my hands against the wall I pinned her to, inching closer.
"Say it, Shaye." I press my forehead against hers. "I like how it sounds."
"I love you," she admits, her cheeks blushing. That's all I need to hear before I slams my lips against hers, a dam broken.
Tongue, teeth, hands. We're tangled together, two pieces to a puzzle that had finally found one another. My hands slide down her arms, down her waist, until I cup her ass and lift her up, keeping her firmly held against the wall. She tugs my hair, bites my lip, and earns a wicked moan from me. I want more, more, more. Suddenly I feel like there is too much space between us even though our bodies are pressed so tightly together I can feel the rapid beating of her heart against my chest.
