Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 397: Foul

Chapter 397: Foul

Atticus blinked slowly, taking a moment to comprehend her words. Understanding dawned in his eyes, but then he frowned.

"It’s with Sirona, but... why do you want it?" Atticus tilted his head, the very picture of boyish innocence and confusion. "I can protect you. I will always protect you," Atticus swore, patting his own chest proudly as he stared down at her. "I’m the strongest, so you don’t need to worry. You don’t need to know how to use magic without crystals."

Daphne’s heart stuttered at his words. In the past, his display of protectiveness and strength would have given her nothing but effervescent joy and butterflies in her stomach, but now they only made her feel a quiet dread.

Atticus claimed he would always protect her, but it didn’t comfort her in the slightest. Atticus would protect her from everything that wished her harm, but what could she do to protect herself and her loved ones from him?

Nereus had lost an eye when she was unconscious, and Zephyr nearly lost a wing.

No, she had to become stronger for their sake.

"Atticus, I want to grow stronger. I want to protect you too," Daphne insisted. "I want to become a woman powerful enough, worthy enough, to stand by the side of a man as powerful as you. What if someone more skilled in magic kills you? I’ll have to avenge you."

Atticus laughed uproariously, mirth in his eyes as he considered Daphne’s words. "Daphne, sunshine, darling, there is no one more skilled in magic than me. No mere mortal can kill me. There are no men like me. There is only me."

Daphne couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his familiar arrogance. "You are the very picture of humility, aren’t you?"

Atticus winked roguishly in response, and Daphne smacked his chest and continued to speak.

"But how do you know you’re the strongest? The world is so vast. You can’t be the only person in this world who knows how to channel magic without a crystal for a conduit."

Atticus stared down at her, the laughter in his eyes slowly leeching away, replaced by a wintry gaze. For a moment she felt that she was staring into an unfathomable abyss instead of the familiar eyes of a lover. His eyes were dark as he scrutinized her, and Daphne made sure to meet his gaze evenly.

She wasn’t technically lying; if there was an enemy that threatened Atticus’s life, she would defend him with her life.

"The heavens above can bear witness to this fact," Atticus finally pronounced with grim solemnity, a humorless chuckle escaping from his lips as tired despair warped his features. Suddenly, Atticus seemed like a weary old man.

"Daphne, I’m the only one left. For better or worse, there is no one else as powerful as me."

"So you’re not giving me the book?" Daphne asked, crestfallen.

"I can get the book from Sirona for you, but you’ll never be able to do what I do. Give it up before you hurt yourself, okay?" Atticus asked, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. "I don’t want you to overexert yourself and end up unconscious."

Daphne could only nod glumly in response. Inwardly, she rejoiced at the thought that at least she was successful in acquiring the book.

But instead of letting Atticus sense her innermost feelings, she merely wrapped her arms around Atticus to pull him towards her bosom, her lips pressed into a delicate pout. Atticus let out a breathy sigh and buried his face in the softness of Daphne’s breasts, inhaling her feminine scent. She must have taken a bath recently.

Then, he smelled something different. It was a foul smell that belonged in the slums and not on his lovely wife. He scowled into her chest as less-than-fond memories began to float in his mind. No, no, Daphne was his and he would make her stay with him forever.

Atticus tightened his hold on Daphne’s waist, causing her to gasp in surprise.

"Daphne, why do you smell strange?" Atticus asked suspiciously. "Were you rolling in the mud outside? You smell positively foul."

Daphne froze.

She had taken a bath, but Atticus had interrupted her before she could wash her hair free of the stench of the sewers. She had to distract him.

"Of course not!" Daphne retorted, shaking her head as she pretended to be offended. She made a show of sniffing herself before she shoved Atticus back and gave him a haughty look. "Are you calling me smelly? You have some nerve, Atticus! Is this your way of letting me know that you changed your mind?"

Atticus stumbled backward, bewildered by Daphne’s vehement defensive response before the meaning of his own words sunk in and he winced. Claiming his wife smelled bad was probably not something any intelligent husband would do. Even if Daphne did smell bad, the diplomatic thing he should do was to keep his mouth shut!

If Jonah were here, he would have slapped a hand over his mouth with strict orders to shut the fuck up before he ruined his marriage beyond repair. If Atticus had drunk less, he would have slapped his own mouth shut.

But alas, Jonah was not in the room, and Atticus had imbued his fair share of alcohol. So he had to salvage his own mess.

"No no no, I would never change my mind about you," Atticus hastily cajoled, reaching out his hands to embrace her, but Daphne batted them away and scowled.

"You want my forgiveness and yet you claim that I smell foul? Atticus, I think you should leave." She pointed at the door, and Atticus’s face fell. On his handsome face was an expression of abject pain and despair, as though Daphne had kicked him in the crotch and stole his kingdom right under his nose.

"No!" Atticus exclaimed quickly. "Daphne, I’m sorry for my words. You are a radiant goddess of beauty! Let me make it up to you, please?"

Daphne’s heart wavered and she reluctantly nodded. "How do you plan to make it up to me?" She asked warily.

Atticus immediately wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a bruising kiss on her lips that left her reeling. Her hands instinctively went around his neck to hold him close. She had longed for his presence as much as he longed for her.

’Just one night wouldn’t hurt,’ Daphne thought to herself as Atticus eagerly peeled off her nightgown to take his place between her legs, feasting his eager eyes on the tender spot between her legs that was rapidly growing wet with need.

Regardless of Atticus’s true intentions, there was no denying that she missed him carnally.