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Only our breathing filled the silence.

Oh shit.

I had just thrown the king onto his ass!

His eyes lifted to mine. A dangerous stillness settled over him, the kind that should have made me apologize, or explain, or possibly throw myself from the nearest window to avoid whatever came next. But instead, my survival instincts, which were clearly running the entire operation now, made the decision for me. I gathered my skirts, turned, and ran again.

Behind me, Atlas exhaled a sound that was not quite a curse and not quite a growl but carried the promise of both.

“Run, little warrior.”

This time, his nickname for me became a clear warning. One I wasn’t stupid enough to ignore.

Which is why I didn’t stop.

Admittedly, by this point, it was becoming less a strategic decision and more a stubborn refusal to admit defeat. My lungs burned, and my pulse was thundering in my ears.

The dress continued to annoy me, officially becoming my mortal enemy, as every few steps I had to pull the skirts higher to keep from tripping over them. I was rapidly reaching the conclusion that every noblewoman in history had clearly been insane. There was no other explanation for voluntarily wearing such a death trap. Unfortunately, my growing hatred for formal attire did nothing to solve the much larger problem currently pursuing me through the palace.

Atlas.

I could hear him behind me, his footsteps echoing through the corridor with infuriating consistency, neither rushed nor strained. Instead, carrying the confidence of a man who already knew exactly how this chase would end. Meanwhile, I was fighting against silk, pride, and the increasingly uncomfortable realization that I had just thrown the King of Theïkós onto a marble floor.

Honestly, when listed together like that, one of those problems felt significantly more urgent than the others. Especially when I took a wrong turn and ended up back in the throne room.

“Oh, come on! Seriously, here again!” I complained before looking towards the large doors at the end that screamed freedom.

However, the moment I sensed him reaching for me again, instinct surged to the surface once more. Riley’s training had been drilled into my bones for too long to ignore, and before conscious thought could interfere, I was already moving. Already twisting into the familiar motion that had worked so spectacularly a few moments earlier.

The only problem was, this time Atlas was waiting for it… but of course he was, idiot!

The second I shifted my weight, his hand closed around my wrist, and the entire maneuver collapsed before it had even begun. Instead of finding leverage, I found myself redirected. Instead of throwing him, I was suddenly the one being moved. My body swung around and pulled backwards with effortless strength until my spine collided with a broad, unyielding chest.

The frustrated growl that escaped me did little to help my new predicament. And the deep laugh that answered it made it somehow even worse.

Heat flooded my face as Atlas trapped me against his chest, one hand securing my wrist and holding my arm firmly across my body. Every attempt to twist free only seemed to press me more tightly against him, which was deeply unhelpful for several reasons. Mainly because my lady parts were now singing as if this was some damn Rodgers and Hammerstein musical!

It wasn’t the sound of music I heard, but the sound of his amusement as it vibrated through his chest and into my back. I hated how aware I suddenly became of every point of contact between us.

“Uh-uh.” The sound brushed against my ear, and I immediately tried to stomp on his foot. But Atlas stepped aside without even looking, as if already knowing what moves I would make before I did.

“That won’t work twice.”

“I hate you!”

He chuckled and was quick to call me on my bullshit.

“No, you don’t,” he rumbled down at me, and the arrogant certainty in his voice made me want to commit actual violence. Unfortunately, I was currently being prevented from doing exactly that.

“Fine but loving you doesn’t mean that I like you right now,” I snapped, and the second he laughed, I twisted sharply in an attempt to wrench myself free. But the movement only earned another low chuckle from him. Gods, he was enjoying this. After everything that had happened, after chasing me halfway across his palace and being thrown onto his backside, somehow the man was still enjoying himself.

“I was trained by gods and generals, little warrior,” he murmured, the words carrying that infuriating warmth he reserved for moments when he thought he was being clever before whispering arrogantly, “You’ll need a new trick.”

My jaw tightened to the point that I thought my teeth would crack. The worst part was that he sounded unbearably pleased with himself.

I squirmed again, determined not to make this easy, but before I could launch another escape attempt, his hand rose to the front of my throat. The touch wasn’t painful, wasn’t even particularly restrictive, but it was enough to stop me throwing myself backwards into another attack. It was also a silent warning. A firm reminder that he was stronger than me, larger than me, and currently entirely capable of preventing me from making yet another terrible decision.

God, I hated how effective it was.