I could hear the hurried footsteps of my brothers behind me, but I didn’t slow down. Without thinking, I headed for the game room. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew going to my room would be a mistake. First, because I’d fall apart there. Second, because my brothers would follow me, and I couldn’t let them see me like that.
I needed something. I didn’t know what. God, my body was on pins and needles while my brain was a complete mess.
Someone grabbed my hand while I was lost in thought.
“Shit!” I jumped, startled by the sudden touch.
“Does it hurt?” Wild asked, pulling his hand back just as quickly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement to my right. When I turned, I saw Dagon looking at my hand with a thunderous expression, fists balled at his sides. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I knew I didn't have the mental capacity for his particular brand of moody, angry answers right now.
Time to put my mask back on. I'd already let too much slip today. I smiled briefly. "I'm fine. Sorry, I lost it back there. I just…"
"You're seriously apologizing for storming out of there?" Bren looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "You realize what just happened? King just cut your hand with a knife, forcing some supernatural bond on you without your consent! Cut you, Di!"
Bren’s face was pale, and I was sure mine was no different.
I was glad I hadn't eaten. I would’ve been sick.
“Sit down.” Wild said softly, guiding me to the couch.
My brothers were angry and worried, furious at our father and frightened for me. I wasn't used to this, even after all this time. Someone being openly worried about me… it still caught me off guard every time. They were watching me, waiting for me to say something.
And that's when it started.
When the intrusive thoughts hit me like a tidal wave. What if this magical bond does something to me that King didn't mention? What if it makes me snap and hurt the people I love? What about my brothers, what if something happens to them if I don't succeed in finding the object King forced me to search for? Forced because now of course I can't refuse. Not when my brain is attacking me with images of what would happen if I don't do it. But also, what if I lose the bond and feel like something is missing inside me and I can't never get it back?
What if I lose them? My brothers.
I looked around at my brothers as the thought hit me. I started twisting my ring. Once. Twice. Three times. Four…. Six. Not enough.
It had to be enough.
Why wasn't it enough? I stopped counting. Started over. One. Two. Three. Still wrong.
The thoughts kept spiraling louder, more insistent, piling onto each other until I couldn't find a gap between them to breathe. Five. Six. Seven. There. Maybe it's enough now. I exhaled slowly but the relief lasted approximately two seconds before the next wave hit. What if I'm already too late? What if the bond breaking means something worse than King let on? What if…
I shot up from the couch and made a straight line to the bar. My hands were still trembling. I needed a drink. An outlet.Something. Anything. Maybe even a cigarette. No, I didn’t smoke anymore, but.. oh, fuck it all.
I rinsed my hands carefully, the cut stinging under the water, and grabbed a glass before pouring pink soda and adding a significant amount of gin. I wasn't going to pretend otherwise. A cocktail it was. Then I crouched, reaching to the back of the shelf. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray and headed back to the couch. Luc and Wilder looked shocked, Brenton and Andras were at a loss for words, and Dagon was still seething, the same fury rolling off him as before.
"Oh, come on. It's not like both of you," I pointed at Andras and then at Bren, "didn't smoke once upon a time."
Andras opened and closed his mouth, but Bren was faster: “I’m going to get a drink, and I’m going to need one of those, too.” He jabbed a finger toward the cigarettes and stormed over to the bar.
“Same,” Andras muttered.
I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I coughed immediately. This was dreadful. The taste, the smell, all of it was horrible. It made my head spin like I was on a roller coaster, and I hated roller coasters. Yet I kept going, because the truth was simple. Once upon a time, cigarettes had been my only anchor, and I needed something to hold onto right now. If a cigarette was it, then so be it.
While I was smoking and trying to lose myself in it, Dagon sat down right next to me. My body went taut because of the proximity. The need to lean in, tuck my face against his neck, and hide from everything hit me like a wave. I had to move away, but then he shifted slightly, and our thighs brushed. Every thought narrowed to that single point of contact.
He reached past me, grabbed the pack from the table, and lit a cigarette. I didn't know he smoked. It was clear he was trying hard not to cough.
“It’s been a long time?” I asked.
He gave in to a cough and cleared his throat, then recovered quickly. I hadn't expected him to answer. “Yeah, it’s been a long while.”
"Then why the hell do you two keep smoking?" Wilder asked like he genuinely couldn't fathom it.
