Page 68 of Gravehouse

She flashes me a double-sided smile. “I?—”

“There you are!” Atlas breaks the conversation.

Elea’s eyes fly up to her son as he leans into me. “Come. I have to show you something that I think you might want to see.”

Every muscle in Elea’s face tightens before she nods, dismissing us.

Fucking Atlas and his stellar timing as per usual.

“Very well,” she says, shooing us away. “I won’t stop you kids.”

I ease out from under his touch as he smiles at his mom. “We’ll see you for dinner.”

My chair scrapes against the floor when I push back, and before I can put enough distance between us, Atlas catches me around the waist, leading me down the hallway.

Instead of opening the doors to my room, he pushes through the black pair beside them, and Asher fucking Jameson hits me before I even cross the threshold.

His scent is everywhere.

A billiards table sits at the center, a large TV hanging on the opposite wall. The whole room is soaked in tobacco and spice.

Atlas closes us inside. “What’d she tell you?”

I keep walking until I reach the billiards table, sinking the eight ball with my knuckle. “Nothing. She showed me baby photos of you and Asher.”

I turn to face him, crossing my legs at my ankles.

This room is almost a replica of mine. Only with emerald walls and a wrought iron staircase spiraling to a second floor.

Like every other room in this mansion, it boasts at least one floor-to-ceiling glass wall that takes in the view of the backyard. As if the person living inside it always needs reminding that he’s cold.

Ha!

“Leave, Atlas.” Asher’s order cracks across the room.

Speaking of cold.

Asher rounds the table until he’s close enough that I can count the pale stripes in his irises.

My lungs grow heavy as neither of us blinks. Is it always going to be like this between him and I? So fucking tense?

Atlas coughs once. “Ah, I don’t know if this is safe.” He shifts his weight near the door. “You sure neither of you are going to kill each other?”

Asher’s lip twitches. “Undecided.”

I shrug. “Probably.”

Atlas sighs before the door clicks closed.

I never give Atlas enough credit. Clearly, he’s trying his hardest to keep his brother alive. And even me… sometimes.

Asher searches my face, dragging his tongue over his lower lip. “Venom, whatever am I gonna do with you?”

I say nothing.

He takes another step and my eyes drop to the waistband of his sweats.

“—and I don’t mean that,” he deadpans.