Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DRAVEN

H oly shit!

Morgan gaped at Atlas, hating that he refused to meet her gaze. She'd only heard rumors about his family, and none of it was favorable.

The guys' reactions were instantaneous.

They froze like the devil itself was after them.

Ascher's grip on her tightened almost painfully, the heat of his skin blistering. If she weren't immune to his touch, she was sure that the imprint of his hand would be burned into her arm. She leaned against him, trying to silently offer him comfort, but it only seemed to aggravate him, and a possessive growl rumbled against her spine, the sound more beast than man.

She hadn't seen him like that since he'd been trapped in his hellhound form by witches who had wanted to control him.

"You're sure?" MacGregor's voice was sharp as he barked the question, snapping the guys out of their funk.

They launched to their feet, glancing out the windows like they expected the fae army to arrive at any moment, practically vibrating with aggression.

Atlas gave a stiff nod, like he would shatter if he unbent.

"Enough!" She slipped from Ascher's hold, ignoring his slightly panicked grumble as he reached for her. She evaded his hands and stomped toward Atlas, glaring up at the big lug. When he refused to look at her, she debated punching him but didn't have the heart to hit him when he was down.

So she did what women for generations have done when they're ignored—she reached out and cupped his cock, squeezing it threateningly.

She'd swear to the gods that she actually heard the whole room collectively take a giant breath, and she rolled her eyes at their dramatics.

Atlas's startled gaze dropped toward hers, his eyes wide in shock. He grabbed her wrist, but didn't pull her away. Didn't dare.

The tightness in her chest loosened now that he was no longer ignoring her.

Leaving behind pure fear.

That she would lose him.

That he would be taken from her.

That he would go back to his family and leave her.

Just the thought threatened to crack her heart.

"You are mine." She tightened her hold on the erection she could feel growing under her touch. "They will not take you from me. You will not go back to them."

When he remained frozen, she tightened her grip. "Right?"

He gave a strangled groan that was part pleasure, part pain, his pupils dilating. "I might not have a choice."

She stroked him, feeling him tremble under her touch. "We always have a choice."

He pressed his forehead against her, his breathing rough, the hand around her wrists tightening almost frantically. "I won't let them hurt you. I can't…"

Her heart clutched at the desperation in his voice. "Just remember that we're stronger together. Don't do anything stupid. If you disappear, I'll come for you."

Morgan thought he would be pissed at her announcement .

The last thing she expected was for him to crush her to his chest, his body trembling as he clutched her close.

"She's right." Kincade stepped closer, his hand coming to land on the back of Atlas's neck. "You're one of us. You've never been an outsider with us. We're family, and family sticks together."

When Atlas lifted his head, a fierce determination filled his expression. "I won't let them harm her."

"None of us will." Ryder growled the words, and Draven and Ascher nodded in agreement.

"You think you're strong enough to stand up to the fae if they come calling?" Caedmon interrupted, and the guys slowly turned toward them. Tension thickened the air when no one spoke.

Louis and MacGregor sat on the couch, looking between the two of them like it was a tennis match.

Morgan stepped between the two of them, her stomach knotting as she stood as peacemaker between her mates and her pack. Her jaw dropped open when, instead of exploding, Kincade crossed his arms and tipped his head. "What did you have in mind?"

T hey often teased Morgan that she attracted trouble.

If there was danger, she would find it.

Draven whistled to himself at the new mess—they'd actually invited the fae to the coven to talk.

Now that was some crazy shite.

It was like Morgan doubled down on trouble.

While fae might be all about duty and honor, they were sneaky wankers, spending centuries plotting and planning revenge.

The jackholes were relentless.

Draven absently flipped the blade over and over in his hands, so distracted that he didn't really notice the tiny nicks and cuts that dotted the tips of his fingers. He stood just inside Morgan's bedroom, needing to keep her within sight for fear his heart would beat out of his chest otherwise.

He and Ryder were guarding their mate while she got ready for the meeting. Ryder stood guard by the window, practically quivering against the need to touch Morgan. While Draven wanted to appreciate her luscious curves, he was stressing too fucking much over the upcoming meeting to do anything about it.

It was a travesty.

Even his siren was curiously subdued.

"I don't like this plan," Draven muttered for the hundredth time.

Morgan came over to stand in front of him, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, and his frantic thoughts dwindled to a muffled roar at the back of his mind, his siren preening at being the center of her attention.

Fuck if his chest didn't puff up.

She placed her hand directly over his heart, and just like the first time he laid eyes on her, his siren fell completely silent, the ravenous hunger quieting at her nearness.

There was only her.

Pleasure like he only found when near the ocean surrounded him. It made him want to snatch her up and take her where no one else would find her.

Where no one else would ever try to take her from him again.

Then he sighed at the impossibility of it.

Because no matter where they went, trouble would find her. Usually, he embraced the chaos of her life and joined her in creating the mayhem, but right now, he was too fucking scared of losing her.

"Everything is going to be fine. The only way to prevent them from attacking us without warning is if we enter into talks with them. We need time to find out?— "

"Why do they want you dead?" Draven interrupted, his voice rough. He cupped her neck, pulling her against his body, but even her touch did little to calm his anxiety over the upcoming meeting. "If they touch you, I will skin them alive."

"We'll get through this together." Her arms came up and wrapped around his waist, hugging him back nearly as hard, and some of the tension in his gut finally loosened.

"Together." He glanced over her head, catching Ryder watching them with hungry eyes. The wolf nodded his head, a silent vow that he would do whatever it took to keep their mate protected, and his chaotic emotions finally settled.

Together, they would keep her safe.

He pushed her away and scanned her body, his cock going from half-mast to rock hard so fast that he lost his breath. Then he shot her a smirk and wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "As much as it pains me to say this—let's get you dressed."

M organ fought the blush that warmed her cheeks, but it was a losing battle. Draven's smile only grew, the bastard loving he could affect her in such a way, knowing that it had nothing to do with his siren abilities and everything to do with the man.

Before she could scold him, a knock pounded on the door, and the atmosphere in the room dropped to arctic temperatures. The guys went into warrior mode, Draven pulling her away, two blades in his hands, while Ryder moved toward the door, his form bulking up until the seams of his shirt strained.

"Guys—an intruder wouldn't knock." She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Despite being the deadliest person in the room, more than capable of taking care of herself, Morgan held her spot .

The guys needed to feel like they were doing something to protect her.

So she sat back and let them, grabbing Kincade's discarded button-up shirt and slipping it over her shoulders. She barely had two buttons done when Ryder ripped open the door with a snarl.

Only to pause when he found Atlas waiting on the other side.

Morgan stepped around Draven and smiled brightly at him.

Then lost her ability to think when she saw him decked out in all his fae glory.

Because damn, he is just stunning.

His silver hair was pulled back with a series of braids at his temple, revealing his slightly pointed ears, and she barely resisted the urge to reach out and caress them. A shimmering silver metal decorated the tips of his ears, weaving around edges, accentuating the shape, the metal resembling a vine with delicate little leaves and flowers.

The rest of the silken strands of his hair fell over his shoulder. Since the sun had set, he was in full dark elf mode, his skin once again taking on a pale lavender tint. The emerald green color of his eyes almost overtook the dark burnt umber that lingered around the edges, and her breath caught at the intensity.

Because holy shit!

With just one look, he had the power to addle her brains.

They said dark elves were controlled by their emotions. That they were possessive and destructive assholes. That their volatile moods were a weakness.

All she saw when she looked at him was an all-consuming love.

He would do anything for her, and her insides melted.

She'd grown up wishing for that type of love, searched for it, but never expected to find it.

Until she met her mates.

Now, she didn't think she could live without it.

It was addicting.

Consuming .

And she needed it more than she needed air.

He wore a dark green outfit that was a combination of warrior and fancy lord of the manor. Straps and buckles molded the clothing to his lithe form, the material shimmering under the light. The undershirt he wore was a lighter shade of green that made the colors of his eyes even more brilliant.

She was both afraid to touch him and desperately wanted to mess him up to put her claim on him.

"You look magnificent," she whispered in awe, not remembering moving toward him until she was inches away.

A tiny smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as his eyes scanned her. "Not nearly as enchanting as you."

His husky tone sent goose bumps racing over her skin and that damned blush was back.

"But I don't think it is appropriate for the meeting." When he smiled, small fangs flashed threateningly. "I would hate to have to kill anyone who saw you in it."

He was dead serious.

She should be put off by the violence, should reprimand him.

Instead, she went up on her toes and brushed her lips against his cheek, unable to help stealing a taste of him.

His eyes sparkled under the attention, the possessiveness and hunger making her feel almost giddy. She opened her mouth to tell them to cancel the meeting, wanted to spend the night with her mates, but then he stepped away and some of her reasoning returned.

"So you were able to reach your contact and they agreed to the meeting?" Part of her hoped he would say he had been unsuccessful. As much as they needed answers, she didn't want his family anywhere near him.

"Yes." His voice was sharp as he went to her closet and began to riffle through the clothing, essentially ending the discussion, and she let him, not wanting to rile him up anymore before the meeting.

Despite all their reasoning, he'd been against the idea .

He didn't want the fae, especially his family, anywhere near her.

If there was a twinge of disappointment in her chest that he didn't want her to meet them, she kept it to herself. There was some sort of rift in the family, something that tore them apart. Until he was ready to share it with her, she had to respect his choices.

For now.

She trailed after him, seeing him digging through the clothing.

Which most of the guys had been steadily adding more and more, much to her amusement.

She'd gone from owning only a few outfits to having a nearly bursting walk-in closet. She didn't have the heart to protest, not when the guys had so much fun finding her outfits and setting them out for her to wear, each claiming a day for their own.

While they spend most of the time together as a group, the guys often snuck off with her at least once a day. That time was sacred, none of the other guys imposing on those dates.

All she could do was marvel at the novelty of being the center of their attention.

Not that they demanded all her attention.

If she retreated to the office or her room and closed the door, they gave her the privacy she needed, knocking before they entered. If the doors remained open, they took it as an invitation to join her. If she was working, they would sit in silence, pleased just to be in her company.

She had to admit she loved those days the most, when they were all near and remained safe.

Too bad those days were becoming fewer and further between.

"The people of Faerie are…particular." Atlas's voice was muffled as he spoke. "All people of Faerie are called fae. All elves are fae, but not all fae are elves. There is a distinction between the two that can land you in trouble if you get it wrong. It might be best if you just associate everyone from Faerie as fae."

That information was taught at the Academy.

That he would tell her again meant he was worried. Wanting to ease his mind, she agreed. "I understand."

When Atlas emerged from the closet, her breath caught at the garment in his hand.

His Faerie blessed shirt.

The one she had borrowed and never returned.

It smelled like him, and she couldn't make herself give it back.

The light, wispy material looked almost ethereal in his hands.

He stalked toward her, his approach more of a wild animal than human. She shivered, trying to resist the impulse to run in the hopes that he would give chase. Narrowing his eyes in warning, Atlas gave a small jerk of his head.

Hands immediately came to rest on her arms, so unexpected that she startled. She'd been so entranced by Atlas, she had completely forgotten Ryder and Draven were even still in the room.

Not that they seemed upset.

In fact, if the hungry expressions were any indication, they were enjoying the show.

While Ryder held her, Draven began to work on the buttons of her shirt, easily stripping it from her shoulders.

Leaving her standing in the middle of the room in only her underwear.

Surrounded by her mates.

Her skin tingled with the need to feel their hands on her skin.

When Atlas lifted his chin, both Draven and Ryder each grabbed one of her wrists and held her arms up in the air. Atlas gathered the faerie cloth in his grip, then raised it above her head.

She shivered when the slinky material came into contact with her skin.

Draven and Ryder slowly slid their hands down her arms, trailing their palms over every inch of her, the faerie clothing following in their wake. Down her shoulders, over her spine and along her breasts, until their palms traced along her stomach and over her ass.

Then they destroyed the last bit of her sanity when they kneeled at her feet.

She wanted to tip back her head and close her eyes, bask in the wanton, carnal sensations, but she'd become ensnared by Atlas. He refused to let her look away. It was only when the material settled over her that the connection broke.

Then all three guys had their hands on her body as they smoothed the material down.

Fuck!

Who knew that getting dressed could almost be as sexy as undressing?

Because damn.

She trembled with the need to demand they finish what they started.

Atlas grabbed her chin, and her eyes snapped open. All three guys stood in front of her, Draven and Ryder on either side of Atlas. She licked her lips, but when she reached out for them, Draven and Ryder caught her hands before she could touch them.

Some of the sensual haze clouding her mind lifted, and she couldn't help pouting.

And was rewarded when Ryder gulped, his breath leaving him in a rush.

"Naughty." Atlas leaned down and gave a sharp nip to her bottom lip that stung, but quickly pulled back before she could deepen the kiss. "If you're good at the meeting, maybe we'll continue this later."

Her eyebrows shot up, her brain sputtering, then a grin spread across her face. "Are you trying to bribe me into behaving?"

"Yes," Atlas responded bluntly, his face darkening as he gazed down at her. "If you think I'm rigid and unreasonable, then you're in for a rude surprise. To them, I'm a rebellious child. They live and breathe rules and strictures. Any emotions are trained and beaten out of us from childhood. Anything less is unacceptable. They see it as a weakness, something to exploit. Feelings and emotions go against everything they believe. Those who don't meet their expectations are banished."

"Excuse me?!" His words hit her like a sledgehammer, leaving a big gaping hole to the chest where her heart should've been. It was quickly filled by such rage that she gritted her teeth to keep her magic from lashing out. "They threw you away like you were trash, like?—"

"Because I wasn't good enough," he replied with no inflection in his voice.

Emotions bubbled and swirled through her gut as they fought for dominance, but one thing was clear. She cupped his face then smiled, liking the hint of uncertainty that entered his expression. "Then they're fools, and I thank the gods every day that you came into my life. What they see as imperfections just makes you even more perfect in my eyes."

He swallowed hard, the umber in his eyes blazing as he gazed down at her. Then his lips crashed over hers in a brutal kiss, one that stole her very soul, only for him to replace it with his own. Breathing hard, he pulled back, his chest heaving. He didn't bother hiding his emotions, leaving them bare for her to see.

A precious gift.

She gave him a wry smile. "If they didn't approve of you, they are going to hate me."

He gave a bark of laughter, which seemed to surprise him as much as the other guys. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against her forehead, then pulled back to stare down at her with a soft smile. "We think you're perfect, and that's all that matters."

He pulled back, his lips pursed as he gazed down at the unshaped cloth draped over her. "Do you remember how this works? Create a mental picture in your mind on what you need, and?—"

"I remember." But she didn't do as he said, her hand coming to rest on his chest over the mating mark. "I don't like that you're going without armor. You should wear?—"

"No." He pulled back, a furious scowl on his face, then he had to go and be all sneaky. "We will kill ourselves trying to keep you safe. If you really want to protect us, wear the armor. It's the only way that any of us will allow you to be in the same room as them."

"Allow?" She raised her eyebrows at his stark demand.

Instead of being intimidated, he just crossed his arms like an unmovable jackass.

Then he heaved a massive sigh, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "Trust me."

As much as she wanted to protest, Morgan couldn't deny his plea. She gave him a short nod, then shot him a fierce scowl and placed her hands on her hips. "Fine, I'll wear the damn armor, but if they try anything with you or the others, I'll kill them."

Fuck!

She dragged her hands through her hair and grimaced. She totally sucked at this mating thing. What kind of sick psycho girlfriend goes around threatening to kill her mate's family?

She must have said that last bit out loud, because the guys burst out laughing.

"The very best kind of mate. Some families just need killing." Draven gave her a brilliant smile and kissed her forehead, the warm chocolate goodness of his scent making her want to lean forward and deepen the kiss, but he pulled away before she could give into the impulse. "I'm going to get ready."

She watched as he walked toward the door, whistling merrily. Ryder swept her up in a hug, lifting her off her feet, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he cuddled her to his chest. His big hands spanned her back possessively, not even winded by her extra weight. He nibbled on the bite mark he'd placed on her neck, and a lance of lust heated her core.

Then the ass set her back down.

He brushed his nose against hers and inhaled deeply. A pleased, hungry growl rumbled in his chest as he straightened, a proud smile lighting up his face at being able to elicit such a response from her with a simple touch. "We will finish this later."

Then he, too, turned toward the door and vanished.

When she turned to face Atlas, it was to see him clutching a small, intricately carved box in his fist. He snapped to attention, his posture stiff, his shoulders pulled back, a fierce fae warrior in all his glory.

Then he dropped to one knee in front of her, presenting the box to her with both his hands, his head bowed, and her breath halted in her lungs.

This felt formal.

Important.

And she didn't know what the fuck it meant.

"Atlas—"

He cracked the box open, and her mind went blank. Nestled inside the box was a delicate string of precious gems. They were wrapped up in silver vines, each gem at the center of a delicate silver flower, and she realized that it was a crown of some sort.

They kind of resembled the pieces that he wore in his ears.

Unable to resist, she reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the silver masterpiece. It was a work of art. At her touch, the gems twinkled like lights from a Christmas tree, slow and steady, moving from one to the next, almost beating like a heartbeat.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, then slowly pulled her hand back. Her eyes flashed up toward him in confusion.

Only to see him gazing at her with savage pride. He rose to his feet, pulling the vine of gems from the box, and cradled it in his palms. "Each fae house has special gifts. Mine is earth, more specifically plants. Each fae house also has certain artifacts given to us from Faerie. This is one of them. It's called a heartstone.

"It's passed down through the generations to those they consider the most worthy. It's enchanted, so it can't be stolen or sold. Only when I die will it pass on to the next heir." He moved his hands, the gems responding to his touch and sparkling even brighter. "My grandfather gave it to my grandmother when they mated. When they died, it passed to me. It is said to come alive when we find our true heart."

"Will you wear it today?" he asked, his soul in his eyes.

The back of her throat burned as she gazed up at him.

She suspected he was leaving a lot out of the story, but she didn't care. It mattered enough to him that she would wear it proudly. "Of course."

He released a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly, pleasure shining in his eyes, then he became all business. "Lift your hair."

She gathered the mass and lifted the heavy strands off the back of her neck. He slipped the silver vines around her neck, the metal warming at the touch of her skin, then he wove it around her head, securing it like a headband.

Stepping back, he nodded for her to lower her hair.

She gave a squeak of surprise when the vines stretched and caught her hair, twisting and pulling the strands until it felt like she would have a rat's nest on her head. When it stopped, Atlas cupped her shoulders and turned her to face the mirror.

And her breath caught.

She reached up, but quickly lowered her hand, fearing she would wreck it. "It's beautiful."

The gems had turned colors, a blue-violet that matched her eyes. Silvery metal wove through the strands of her hair in an intricate design so complicated that she had no hope of ever duplicating it. The silver and gems sparkled against her black hair, the overall effect stunning.

It looked like she was wearing a crown of flowers.

But Atlas saw none of it, his eyes only for her. Something about seeing her wearing the crown settled him. He relaxed and leaned forward, kissing her temple. "It pales in comparison to your beauty."

Before she could ask for more information, he stepped back, flashed her a smile that was so happy and light that her heart fluttered in her chest. "I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready. "

Even after the door shut behind him, she remained standing in the same spot. She reached up, touching the crown, startled to feel it warm and moving under her touch.

Her gut clenched, foreboding making the hair on the back of her neck stand, and she couldn't get over the feeling that there would be a heavy cost for daring to wear the crown.