His inflection over the words had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. What was he even implying? Was this about Vivaldi or what had happened at Luna’s with Oakley?
“Outside of the vamps, we’ve got shifters and the Nephilim?” Lynx asked, as if trying to draw us from whatever silent standoff was happening.
“That’s right,” Atlas said to him. Very clearlyhim—not me. “Look over their files again, see if there’s anything we should know before going into the meeting.”
“Where’s it being held?” I asked, not surprised when his attention stayed pinned distinctly to the left of me.
“Magical speakeasy tucked off Market Street.” Atlas shut the folder and put it back on the desk. “I’ll send the coordinates once the exact timing is nailed down.”
“Sounds good.” Lynx waved his file, and it shrank before he tucked it into the hidden compartment in his phone case. “Is there anything else, Archon?”
“No, Agent Carver. You may go. I’d like your partner to stay just a moment.”
Fuck.
Lynx’s eyes darted to me, but when I didn’t give him any indication what this could be about, he nodded at Atlas, scratching his head and looking between us before leaving the room.
Taking a deep breath, I got to the point. “I’m not sure exactly what you saw—”
“Well, you were very distracted by my—Oakley at the time,” he seethed.
He stood and came around to sit where Lynx had been. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles devoid of color. Gone was the smooth politician I’d come to know, replaced by a vengeful witch who most likely wanted to hex me so I’d disappear like our case victims.
“I guess that answers that,” I replied, then cleared my throat. There really wasn’t a professional or graceful way around this one.
Atlas reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder like we were old pals. “Whatever is going on, it needs to stop.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, face contorting before he sighed. “You are here for a case. Nothing more.”
In a swirl of color, I was dangling over the side of a rocky cliff, the moon standing out among the darkness, lighting the water that rippled much too far below me. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed who my assailant was, gripping the back of my collared shirt. I stared down at the pointed rocks jutting up from the water that sprayed and splashed with its violent current. I closed my eyes, inhaling the salty sea air, not allowing the fear to get to me.
This wasn’t real.
Maybe this tactic worked on other witches, but Atlas should’ve known better than to think he could scare off or trick someone who often traversed into other people’s memories. The visions always felt real, but I’d trained myself to stay grounded in these moments, flicking my finger a few times.
“Maybe we came here for a case but, respectfully, what Oakley wants is her call. Not yours.”
He thought he could intimidate me with his hands, but I was as susceptible to his gift as he now was to mine. On the surface of his memories I was standing next to him, watching me devour Oakley.
“You should be focused on keeping up appearances with yourhusband,” he gritted out. “I could have you sent back to headquarters over this.”
“You could,” I agreed, matching his arrogant tone with my own. The Archon may have had the power and prestige that came with his position, but I’d been through Hell and back at least twice while he enjoyed his silver-spoon upbringing. “But we both know she’d hate you for interfering. And that’d kill you more than what you saw this afternoon.”
I continued to watch the memory, savoring it for my own. This was one of Atlas’s worst moments of his life…and I didn’t feel bad about it right now. Not in the least.
Goddess, she looked amazing. Her head falling back, auburn tresses wild as she quivered and whimpered from my touch. It was nice to know he had this visual engrained to memory. A literal mind fuck for Archon Atlas Thorne.
“I hope you don’t miss the part when she came. Because her eyes were locked withmine.” He chuckled in amusement. Then he released me as Oakley stared into his eyes. At first, she was shocked but then those chestnut pools glinted with lust, coming with my face buried between her legs. “I’d be careful thinking you know what Oakley wants. I made that mistake before and look where it got me.”
And with that, he walked me toward the door of the office before it slammed shut—as if on its own—behind me.
* * *
Atlas’s wordstrailed my every step down the long driveway heading toward Starry Night Lane.
I’d be careful thinking you know what she wants. I made that mistake before and look where it got me.
I came to a halt, staring across the cul-de-sac at the evergreen door.
Herdoor.
