Page 22 of A Cruel Kindness

“No.” That was the end of conversation on that. There would be no pillow massacre happening tonight.

“Your funeral,” Bellamy grumbled and I had to be thankful for the dark, because it hid my smile. Her slim throat wasn’t meant to make that rough of a sound.

She went back to gracefully moving around the bed trying to find a comfortable spot, and each time she shifted against the covers, reminding me that we were laying next to each other in a bed, I was growing more and more agitated, my control slipping further and further out of reach.

“Stop wiggling around,” I half begged, not above pleading with her to make the torture stop.

“I’m trying to get comfortable,” Bellamy argued. She would be trying all night at this rate.

“Just…stop.” Bellamy listened, sinking back into the mattress. The thing was old and wearing, but I’d gotten used to it. She probably had her bed fluffed every morning. “Let me try something.” After an affirmative sound from Bellamy, I turned toward her.

Our eyes had adjusted in the dark, so I motioned for her to turn around with my finger. After a skeptical look in my direction, she turned to face the other wall, leaving her back bare to me.

In the cut of her pajamas, I could see our Mark clear as day, the branches and leaves delicately inked into her skin. I felt no small amount of satisfaction about how big it was. At least some part of it would be visible in any shirt, the edges curling around her shoulders peeking out of her neckline.

Once Bellamy was turned, I carefully inched closer, making sure there was enough of the duvet piled up in between my hips and hers. I flattened my hand across her stomach, which made her breath whoosh out of her.

“All good?” I asked.

She only hummed in response.

I hooked my leg outside the blankets and over hers, then pulled her into my chest. Enough of my body was touching hers to compensate for her chill, but not enough that she’d overheat. Her legs, the coldest part of her, were covered, while the comforting coolness of her back was pressed to my chest.

She made an odd sound once I was fully settled.

“What?” I asked, making sure she wasn’t choking on something.

Bellamy stayed quiet a moment before saying, “This is fine.”

She sounded too reluctant for my liking. “I’ll move.”

“Don’t,” she said quickly, the word barely audible.

My lips curved into a grin, my grip tightening ever so slightly. “You know it won’t kill you to admit you like this, princess.”

“I think I’ll pass, thank you,” she said, though it sounded like her throat was tight.

“So proper,” I teased. Even in her disagreement, she was so polite. It had been years since I’d broken free of those expectations.

Bellamy’s elbow found its way into my ribs. There we go, she was already shedding those norms. Though I didn’t think she’d truly be herself if she abandoned them completely. I just wanted to see her a little ruffled. “I look forward to seeing you all messed up.”

Bellamy made a disgruntled sound. “You have already seen me more unkempt than most.”

“Who the fu—” I cut off that instinctual reaction, forcing myself to loosen my hold on her and smooth my tone. “I doubt it. You had what—one hundred staff members assigned just to you?”

Bellamy hummed again, and if that was going to be her universal signal for yes from now on we were going to have a massive fucking problem. “And not one of them saw me as anything other than perfect.”

The way she said that, with a slightly thin, reserved tone exposed more than I think she even realized. Clearly, a lot had happened in the past six years to turn that bright, wild girl I left behind into the stoic, careful woman who lay curled against me. “Great, so just past lovers then,” I responded, the words slipping out with a growl before I could stop them. I really, really hoped she was never called home for anything.

Of course, I would be going with her. And then someone would probably end up without their hands.

“Do you honestly believe that was allowed?” Bellamy asked, ending her question with a disbelieving chuckle.

No, probably not. Not for the Empire’s prized jewel. I couldn't remember how many times I'd watched the news, saw her standing with her family in all their adorned glory and got so angry that I had to go to the gym and pretend the punching bag had her father's face plastered on it. But now, with her literally in my arms, the object of my rage still felt far away. “I bet you learned how to sneak behind their backs.”

“That stopped when—” Bellamy cut herself off quickly, and I could hear the sound of her thick swallow. “Excuse me, I almost misspoke.”

Her omission grated, but this was neither the time or place to peel back her layers and uncover all her secrets. Against every instinct, I pulled her tighter to my body and whispered, “Good night, princess.”