There was a trace of warmth where his knuckles hovered near mine. It was quiet and unseen, but undeniable.
Still, he wouldn’t look at me. As if looking might unravel him altogether.
Ford sniffed, eyes darting between the mud and blood plastered to me and the crimson streaks painting Ronan like war-markings. His grin was slow and I saw the tears he swallowed before he spoke.
“Well,” he wagged a finger between the two of us, “should I assume the monsters weren’t the only ones you tore into?”
I suspected he’d use humor in place of sorrow, but that assumption was just not anticipated...
“Oh gods, Ford.” I shoved him, but he caught my arm, dragging me in for a hug.
“I smellsomething,” he whispered slyly into my ear. “Nothing like a little carnage to set the mood, huh? I’ve heard of blood bonds, but this is a bit much, even for you, V.”
Heat flared in my cheeks as I reeled back in disgust, striking his arm. He flinched, shrieking like a child. But it wasn’t because of me—
Flame had waved across Callum’s hand, a whip of gold aimed at Ford’s head. Ford ducked, but not quick enough. Embers caught in his hair, lighting the tips aflame.
Callum snarled, his entire arm blazing, “A member of our team died, Ford. He was ripped apart by a creature that stalks these woods. This isn’t Csolenia, you’re not surrounded by those who will tolerate your dull jokes.”
I winced at the jab, knowing the words hit when Ford’s face fell.
“You’re right,” he admitted, fingers snuffing out whatever still burned the edges of his hair.
I slid between them, gripping for Callum’s face, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “Callum,” I whispered.
They glowed, fire caught in a swirl of affliction. I tried not to crumble at the ache my heart felt when he refused to meet them, turning away instead.
I dropped his face, letting him go.
He wasn’t ready, and I couldn’t force him.
Swallowing the hurt, I turned to Ford, who stood with a rare crease of worry strapped across his brow. The only one left remaining by our side.
Somehow, Ronan and Nezra had managed to sneak away from the awkward tension unnoticed, both finding their focus pulled to where Killian and the dragon siblings huddled in a hushed chat.
“It’s okay,” I told Ford. “We need your humor. Just try to pick your moments.”
He mirrored the nod I gave him, stiffly lifting his chin. “Seriously, though. All that blood. It’s not yours, is it?”
“It’s from the Eldritch. Nasty sons of bitches, those things.” A shiver ran over my skin, though, not necessarily a chilling one.
His mouth yanked into a smirk. “And you managed to spare the prince? Fates, V. What an accomplishment.”
Elva crossed the camp then, coming straight for me with no pause, no question—just warmth as she buried herself against me. Like the blood didn’t matter. Like I didn’t scare her. Like I never could.
The flare in Callum’s eyes had finally dimmed, a steady exhale brushing past his lips. My attention was pulled behind him, where Wells slipped from a tent, dragging a sleeve across the red path spilling from his nostrils.
Shame twisted in my chest, knotting together.
Then his eyes snapped to mine, scarlet rimmed and glassy. He turned, too quickly, rushing away, pocketing something small and empty.
I knew in that moment that it wasn’t just me unraveling.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Verena
IHAD BARELY SLEPT THESE LAST FEW WEEKS.
