“I’m beginning to think you do not know what a soul match bond truly is,” she chastised, her tone shifting to accusatory and disciplinarian.
“Of course, I know,” I argued.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
“What?” I asked.
“Tell me what you think a soul match bond is, Percy,” she commanded.
“It’s…” I hesitated. I knew what a soul match was. Obviously, everyone knew. But the way she looked at me expectantly, knowingly—like she expected me to say the wrong thing—it ungrounded me.
“Well, I’m waiting for an answer,” she goaded. I huffed, frustrated.
“It’s the purest of bonds, a promise, of the truest love possible, in whatever form that may take: familial, platonic, or romantic. But love true. If both parties want it. It’s finding your person, someone perfect for you in some way. And when a bond is formed, it can never be broken. The two are linked indefinitely and can feel each other’s love, knowing without doubt how the other feels for them,” I explained confidently.
Selene’s mouth turned in displeasure.
“Is that it? Is that all you think a soul match is?” she questioned, looking away from me.
“We’re connected. Our souls are tied. Someone could use me to get to you,” I continued, though I wasn’t sure of the specifics—only that dark magic against me could also affect Selene, that I was a vulnerability.
Selene released my shoulders and exhaled in exasperation.
“You’ve given me a headache,” she complained. “Or perhaps it is your own,” she added, pinching the bridge of her nose before growling and turning her eyes back to mine.
“A soul match bond is much more than your romanticised fairy tale. A fully formed bond is not simply about sharing love. Our souls are now one. We may share everything—emotions and physical sensations. A potential bond is dangerous enough, capable of being used to track and hunt the other in the pair. It’s how I found you after the summer ball; I gave Anamyblood to trackyours. A fully realised bond is so much more. It hasn’t been confirmed—the bond is so rare and secretive—but there is enough anecdotal evidence, enough hearsay, that I believe it is more likely than not that if one dies, so falls the other. We are one. Irrevocably. Did you seriously pursue this bond withso little knowledge of the consequences?” Selene almost hissed, and I felt like a child in trouble.
Her question silenced me. The air seemed colder, and any remaining light was quickly vanishing.
“If… if I die, you die too?” I asked.
The weight of such a responsibility—the fact that I held my soul match’s life in my hands—was heavy. I reached out to grip the flowerbed box behind me for support, my legs suddenly feeling weak.
“According to most beliefs regarding soul matches, yes. My own research proved challenging to know for sure. Soul matches tend to end tragically—at least those whose stories are told do. Perhaps there are others—lower classes, commoners—who simply grow old; one dies, and then, at some later point, the other. But such lives are not written about. They do not become legends of greatness or cautionary tales.” Selene explained.
“Oh,” I replied, staring down at my feet and the boots Selene insisted I wear. They were big and clunky and super warm, and I loved them for it. I loved her for thinking of my toes. Selene thought of everything when it came to my safety and needs, and yet I had been entirely unaware of how much of Selene’s safety and needs I was responsible for in return. My head was spinning. “I can’t be responsible for your life, Selene. I can’t. I’m too weak compared to you. I… I… vampires live longer than witches, by decades usually. You can’t… I can’t… what are we going to do?”
I couldn’t be the reason she died. Not now. Not in eighty years when I’m old and grey— when Selene still had another twenty years before Hades called for her. I couldn’t even use my own magic properly!
The melodic laughter of Selene drew me from my spiralling thoughts. I looked up from my boots to her bright smile, fangs on show, eyes glowing slightly. She was utterly beautiful—striking—her black-as-night hair beginning to fade into the surrounding darkness, her molten silver eyes captivating me. We had known each other for three seasons now, and I was still so easily drawn in by her dark, powerful essence. The type of distraction that was dangerous, as it consumed my thoughts—maybe my very soul.
“There is nothing that can be done, Pet,” she said and reached out to grip my throat in a domineering way. The sort of way that made my heart race a little faster and my skin tingle, like electricity flowed where she touched.
“You are mine. I chose you, my little witch. Yes, you were persistent, endlessly hopeful, adorably naïve, and so very tempting.”
She pulled me towards her and bent her head to scent me, taking a long inhale.
“But had I not desired you so, there would be no bond between us,” she said softly against my ear, her warm breath caressing the shell of my cold ear, and I shivered.
“I made my decision. If it costs me my elder years, so be it.”
Her arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against her, and she left my ear to look down upon me as she held me tightly. Her hand at my throat flexed slightly to drag my attention away from the arousal that had swept so swiftly through me and back to her.
“There is nothing to be done, Pet. You will not concern yourself with such worries again.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied.
But I knew I would. I think she knew it too. Of course, I would worry; the moment I wasn’t wrapped up in her, I would worry. How could I not? Would she suffer every one of my minor afflictions? A cut from a thorn? A scraped knee from a fall? What was the limit? Could it be controlled in some way?
