Up ahead, Blessed Crescent was quiet, number 1 sitting like an abandoned haunted house. Yellow caution tape lined its perimeter, and I watched the families from the prestigious street filter down toward the cul-de-sac. It’d already been decided that the trunk-or-treat would end there, unlike in previous years.
The only event that would take place on Blessed Crescent was the Moonlit Masquerade and only because Atlas had moved in, insisting he would throw the most astonishing party the neighborhood had ever seen. He had told me nothing about his plans for it, but I knew he had hired some fancy event planner to oversee things.
That was if I decided to still attend.
“You gonna drink that?” Atlas whispered, staring down at the vial still clutched in my hand. “Or are you afraid to find out what a little extra courage will invoke while you’re with me?”
He nodded ahead at Luna’s, where Lynx and Saros handed out faux coffees topped high with mountains of whipped cream to each of the young witches in line. “Shall we?”
It was a dare, but I wasn’t in the mood to play games. I dropped the vial into the stroller basket. “I’m good.”
Passing the truck, we continued around the court until we were back in front of my driveway. “We should probably talk about what happened yesterday.”
He sucked in a breath then shook his head, not making eye contact. “Yes. I think we have to.”
Hazel began packing up the trunk-or-treat decorations, hastily coming down to take the stroller. “Why don’t we leave you both to it?”
“You told her?” he asked as soon as she was out of earshot.
My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I began walking toward the yard, hoping he’d follow so we weren’t in view of the neighbors or Luna’s. “I don’t keep secrets from my sister.”
“Just from me, then?” he accused through gritted teeth. As we turned the corner for the backyard, he gripped my shoulder, spinning me around until I was pinned with my back against the siding. His elbow rested above us, and he loomed over me, his other hand gently cupping my waist. “Are you happy with yourself?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, confused. Of course I wasn’t happy with myself. I’d hurt him. Hurt Saros. Nothing about what had happened had been good aside from the mind-blowing orgasm.
His chest heaved, and he lowered his face until his lips hovered a few inches over mine. My breath hitched, pulse thumping erratically. “Did you enjoy ripping my heart out with his face between your thighs?”
He was a tempting nightmare brought to life, and while part of me wanted to wriggle out of his hold, the other wanted nothing more than to be trapped in it. Consumed by it. To see what would happen if I let that rage simmering inside him boil over.
“N-no,” I stumbled. “Of course I didn’t.”
“You want him, though…” His voice softened, thumb stroking my jaw before curling down my neck. “Bothof them.”
I nodded, unable to say more. But it was true. I wanted them both.Neededthem both.
“But not me.” It was a statement as much as a question, cracking his usually smooth tone.
It was like a knife to the gut, the belief behind what he’d said. That he actually thought they were the truth.
“I…” The words died on my tongue.
If I said yes, it would be a lie. If I said no, how would I be able to turn away from him without telling him why I’d run off in the first place?
“I see.” His gaze narrowed, then his hand slid behind my neck, tugging me so close that the next things he said were like a bruising kiss against my lips. “If you think fucking my team will stop me from wanting you, then you’re mistaken.”
Heat coursed through my veins at the boldness of his declaration, my body warming beneath his. “It wasn’t like that.”
His forehead pressed against mine, his mouth still an invisible caress. “You were mine from the moment I saw you at that pumpkin patch seven years ago, and you will be mine until the day I die.”
Images flooded me, the world spinning out of reach until it was only Atlas and I, visions of us together on a porch, his withered hand holding mine, grandchildren playing in the front yard. Another of us in the pines, slicked with sweat and passion under the Moon Goddess’s copper-belly. A swirl of memories and visions he had for our future collided, overwhelming me until I pushed him away, curling over and dry heaving onto the grass.
Until the day I die.
“Atlas, I can’t be yours.” I clutched my knees, trying to catch my breath and will myself not to throw up. Tears streaked my cheek but I wiped them away quickly, not wanting him to see. “Not now. Not ever.”
I slid down to the ground, resting my back against the siding. As my breathing slowed, I noticed he’d joined me, unclipping his bow tie and undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. “You saidcan’t. But you didn’t say you aren’t.”
“A technicality,” I heaved out, too exhausted to even snap at him. The energy it took to keep him at arm’s length was becoming increasingly more exhausting with each passing day.
