ELEVEN
ATLAS
Rune is quiet most of the day. Well, not exactlyquiet, but not very chatty with me. I do my best to stay out of his way, which isn’t easy in a cell that’s already barely big enough for the two of us, while he paces and mutters to himself under his breath. Every so often he stops, kneels down, and writes something in the dirt of the floor with his finger before standing up and starting his pacing all over again.
I’m afraid to say anything and break his concentration, so I sit on his cot and watch him, like a goldfish swimming in circles in a too-small bowl. I wish I could do something useful, but my primary skills are smashing shit and acting as a shield, and neither of those things are all that helpful in a magically reinforced prison.
And since there’s nothing to do but stare at Rune, I start to notice things about him, like the way his long hair cascades over his shoulders. Would he enjoy having it wrapped around my fist while he’s on his hands and knees getting pounded from behind by my massive gargoyle cock?
Heat stirs in my gut, and I try to push that inappropriate thought away.
Don’t think about his hair.
Okay, what else?
His face… It’s made up of sharp angles, with high cheekbones and pointed nose. There’s an intensity in his eyes and a little snarl on his lips that give a “don’t fuck with me” vibe to the concentration furrowing his brow. It shouldn’t be sexy, but it kind of is. I can imagine that same snarl twisting his lips as he rides me, digging his fingernails into my skin as he throws his head back and moans my name…
Fuck, his face isn’t safe either.
Maybe I need to stop looking at him completely. Except, I’m not sure where else to look considering there’s nothing in here but stone walls and Rune. Maybe I should just shut my eyes. That seems like the safest option.
I settle against the wall and let my eyelids fall closed. Perfect, now I can stop staring at him and imagining all kinds of lewd, horny scenarios. Except having my eyes closed doesn’t stop me from smelling him or feeling the shift in the air every time he moves past me in his endless circles. My cock stays all too alert, and my mind keeps reaching for fantasies that I continuously bat down.
We’re being held captive for gods know what reason. The last thing Rune wants or needs is to have me lusting after him.
A little flutter moves inside me, and my eyes jolt open.
“Did you just do something to me?” I ask, breaking the relative silence.
He stops pacing and looks at me, cocking his head.
“No, why?” Rune rakes his eyes over me like he’s expecting to see evidence of something.
I shake my head.
“Nothing, sorry. It was probably just indigestion or something.” I close my eyes again, and as soon as I do, the fluttering starts again.
I bolt upright and find Rune standing inches away, right next to the cot, staring at me.
“What just happened?”
I shake my head again, placing a hand in the center of my chest and rubbing it slowly.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was the magic thing? It felt different though.”
“Different how?” He sits down on the edge of the cot, and it groans under our combined weight.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but when I feel your magic, itfeelslike you somehow. Like a scent, kind of.”
He nods. “Yes, magic has a kind of fingerprint that’s specific to each magic user. So, you felt something and it didn’t feel like me? But you didn’t recognize it?”
I frown, trying to figure out what exactly it felt like.
“It didn’t really feel like magic. It felt…” I rub my chest again and try to remember the exact feeling. “Hold on, let me see if it happens again.”
I close my eyes for a third time, and for a long minute, nothing happens. Maybe it reallywasjust indigestion. Not that gargoyles typically get gastrointestinal issues, but you never know. The heavy magic keeping us trapped here could be doing weird things to me. But then it happens again, a weird little flutter that, now I’m paying attention to it, almost feels like someone poking me internally.
I gasp.
