Page 69 of The Bonds of Indigo

Without thinking, I reach out to her. My thumb grazes the curve of her trembling chin, my fingers trailing along her jaw. I feel the uneven skin of the scars there, and fucking Beyond. Heat shoots from the point of contact straight into my gut.

Her chest rises sharply at the edge of my vision, and just as her lips part to speak, I hear the rustle of leaves. Then, of course—because the Gods love to teach me lessons the hard way—I hear: “Butcher?! Amarah?!”

Her hand snaps up, swatting mine away so fast it stings. She’s on her feet in an instant, already distancing herself from me by the time Atlas stumbles into view.

“I feel like such a useless tool,” he pants, bent over slightly. “I heard screaming… so… I came… running.”

I glance toward Amarah, but she’s already moving. Heading straight for where the gate once stood.

“You good, Butcher?” Atlas stands over me, extending a hand. His gaze drops to my lap, and I know exactly what he sees—my cock could rival how hard-headed Amarah is. “You look a little⁠—”

“Don’t finish that statement.” I grab his hand and get to my feet. “I’m fine.”

Amarah tuts under her breath but doesn’t comment.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well,” he says.

This time, it isn’t me who answers.

“I fear we have a problem…” she says softly.

Atlas groans, throwing his head back. “What else is new. More roughing it for Gods knows how long, I presume.”

“No,” she sighs. “We can sleep in real beds tonight. I need to think about how to proceed.”

“Uh… what happened? What’s the problem?”

“Nothing happened,” she replies firmly. “But it will kill Butcher if he goes through a gate that’s opened from the Beyond. Which means I’ll have to open one from our side.”

Atlas hums. “And how are you going to do that when you can’t channel reliably?”

She straightens and starts heading back toward camp. I guess she’s not going to want me to carry her this time.

“I need sleep,” she says. “We can discuss it tomorrow.”

I meet Atlas’s bright green eyes just as he flashes me a devious smile. He doesn’t need to know what happened here, and even if he deserved to, I’m not about to talk about it.

The last thing I’m willing to admit out loud is that I may not hate that little slayer nearly as much as I wish I did.

Chapter 19

“It’s not my fault,” Atlas whispers.

My head stays forward, but my glare cuts sharply at him. He visibly pales, his already fair skin turning damn near ashen. Both hands rise in surrender, like someone about to face a firing squad. I’m not going to kill him, but if he so much as grazes a single strand of her hair, he’s losing fingers.

We packed up camp and headed for the nearest town—Ambarka, an old coal-mining settlement tucked against the Tusk Mountains. It’s modernized over the last thousand years, sure, but still small, still untouched by skyscrapers. A place that feels old even when it looks new.

Amarah insisted she could stay awake for the several-hour drive, and said she was fine. It took thirty minutes for her head to start swaying before she slumped right into Atlas’s side. I know she deliberately leaned away from me, but she’s now fast asleep against his chest.

I’ve never been a jealous person, but I swear I’ve contemplated throwing him into the truck bed and using the door as a pillow for her instead. I’d rather her head bang against metal than rest on him.

Actually, I’d rather her head be bobbing on⁠—

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters.

I tut under my breath, and just as I try to discreetly adjust myself in my pants, her legs shift from being off the bench seat to curling up onto me. The space is too short for her to tuck them comfortably. Before her legs can drop again, I take one and drape it over my lap, then do the same with the other.

She doesn’t stir, and instead settles instantly, stretched across both of us.