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"What's that supposed to mean?" Ronan crinkles his nose. "Everyone can sense the attraction between you. It's almost sickening. Why wouldn't you two be together?"
That's a very good question and one I don't have an answer for. In my dreams, Shaye is mine, but when I wake the next morning, I'm alone. If it were up to me, she'd already have a ring on her finger, but it's not my choice. It's entirely up to her. She's been through so much and is just now experiencing freedom. Part of me wants to be selfish and persuade her to stay in Tronovia with me, but in my heart, I know she needs to be the one to tell me what she wants. She was forced into an arranged engagement from birth without her consent and I don't want her feeling obligated to be with me because of a magical bond we share. I want her to want me – all the good, bad and unholy traits and thoughts I possess.
"Atlas?" Nyx snaps his fingers in front of my face. "You still with us?"
I nod and clear my throat. They're all staring at me as if I've lost my mind. "I'll level with you, boys," I lean forward and down the rest of my beer. "I'm in love with that woman, and if she asked it of me, I would walk through the very gates of the underworld with her. But I can't and won't persuade her to have me."
"So, you're not going to make your intentions or feelings about her known?" Ronan looks confused.
"She knows how I feel about her." Images of her writhing on my fingers, slipping her tongue inside my mouth, moaning my name, flash in my mind and I shake those thoughts free. "I've made it very clear that I have feelings for her, but I've also told her that I won't force her hand. If she wants me, she will need to say that. I want more than just one night."
"You're a better man than I am," Nyx says plainly.
"Well, I for one, don't intend on going back to an empty bed tonight," Ronan grunts and changes the topic when the silence stretches too long for his liking. "There are beautiful women in this city, and I intend to have one warm me all night."
"I second that," Nyx slaps his hands against his thighs. "Finn, you in?"
Finn and I exchange a brief, knowing look before he shakes his head and brings his cup to his lips. "You two go on without me."
Ronan and Nyx waste no time skittering off toward the bar where a group of stunning Frost Elf women giggle and wave for them to join their party.
My attention abandons the boys the second they are out of earshot, and I refocus on Finn. He doesn't drink anymore and rarely frequents bars. Apart from tonight, it's been a couple of years since he's had a sip of ale, and even now, he stays on the sober path. No one makes fun of him anymore for ordering Barley Tea at a tavern, because it's become his drink of choice when out socializing. It's non-alcoholic and scratches the itch of wanting the ale taste without the effects.
Two years ago, I found him throwing glass bottles against the side of our rowhouse around midnight. When I went outside and asked what he was doing, he turned to me, and the distraught and hopeless gleam in his eyes still haunts me to this day. I knew something was horribly wrong when he crumbled to the street forcing me to grab ahold his shoulders to keep him from slamming his head against the sidewalk. His eyes were hazy, and his breath wreaked of alcohol. I hadn't seen him this upset since our school days, and he'd lost control of his magic.
"What is it, Finn?" I smacked his cheek gently to keep him awake. "What happened?"
"Have you ever loved someone so much that it physically pained you?" He asked, and it was then I noticed his face was stained with dried tears.
I remember wracking my brain, trying to figure out what could have possibly set him off, when I realized he'd been spending quite a bit of time with Eris and whispered, "Is this about Eris?"
"She consumes my thoughts, Atlas. Every morning, I wake up and wish she was lying next to me, but then I wake up and I'm reminded that I'm alone. So utterly alone it's laughable."
"Hey," I pat his face three times to draw his gaze. "Listen to me, Finn – "
"And here I am, drunk on the side of the road, restraining myself from walking inside my own home because it hurts too much," he interrupted me, leaning his head against the brick facade of our house.
"Finn," I said gently, "tell her how you feel. Why torment yourself?"
"You know why."
"No, I don't," I glanced up and down the street to ensure we were still alone. "Tell me what's going on."
"If I tell her how I feel, she will feel obligated to reciprocate those feelings, so she doesn't lose her new home," he explained quickly, slurring a few words. "I can't do that to her. She's safe here. I can't … I can't…"
When his bottom lip quivered, I pulled him to my chest and slipped his arm over my shoulder to hoist him off the ground. "Let's get you in bed. We can talk about this in the morning."
"I hope you never feel this kind of pain," he mumbled as I carried him to our front door. "To have the woman who finally jumpstarts your heart so close, but just out of reach. To love her with such certainty but have to restrain yourself from confessing your admiration or fight from slipping your hand in hers."
"Why punish yourself, Finn?" I asked as I pushed our door open and headed for the staircase, bearing most of his dead weight.
"She deserves freedom, Atlas. She's been oppressed and abused all her life. How can I tell her how I feel knowing she is used to pleasing everyone around her above her own desires?" He shook his head. "I can't do it."
It was a struggle to get him to his room on the fourth floor, but I managed to lay him on his bed and cover him with his quilt. "Rest, Brother. We can talk about this tomorrow once you sleep off the beer."
"Atlas," he said softly, forcing me to stop in the threshold and turn back to look at him.
"Yes, Finn?"
