Page 28 of A Cruel Kindness

She was quick, with a foresight for her opponents moves that made her reactions seem calm and calculated. Seeing her so steady on her feet should have calmed me, but all I could picture was something going wrong.

Her horse tripping over a branch and crushing her beneath its weight. A Muli soldier firing an arrow right into her chest. Her leaving like Carson did.

The knife I was spinning clattered to the floor. It wasn’t loud, but Bellamy turned toward the sound anyway.

YAHOO, she’s paying attention to you! The Bond yelled into my head. I’d wondered what it would sound like. My Match with Carson didn’t come with this pesky little nuisance. He’d just always been my brother, without having to try for a relationship.

With Bellamy … God, I needed to take a page out of Ford’s book and learn how to fucking control myself. As if to prove my composure, I grinned at Bellamy, who was still staring.

She would have to be the one to turn away. My eyes hadn’t left her form in at least twenty minutes, and I’d guess it would be at least twenty more before they decided to take a break.

After a moment, she turned back to her opponent, and I could have sworn there was a blush warming her cheeks. A sudden lash of heat ran through me, tightening my chest all the way down to my stomach.

I could still hate her family and want to fuck her. That seemed rational.

The only problem was, I could tell she wouldn’t let me have both. Bellamy seemed to hate the fact that I hated her, and if I wanted anything from her other than irritated glares and poorly restrained blushes, I’d have to change course.

I had no plans to get over the anger, though. Not when my fate had just been made worse.

The Bond wouldn't let me hate her. Every time I tried to reach for the rage, it felt too far away. Every time I thought the word hate in the same sentence as her, the Bond would hit me with a little zap of pain like I was wearing a damn shock collar.

I was surprised Bellamy didn’t harbor anger for her own father. But then again, she’d all but admitted she’d volunteered for this.

I’d been too busy staring at her and trying to quiet the Bond to follow up on what was important. That she'd come here willingly. That would change today.

“You’re staring,” Ford’s low, deep voice said from next to me. He walked over to the wall and crouched next to me, matching my stance.

“Fuck, it's like you knew I was thinking about you,” I said through a laugh, shaking my head towards the floor.

“How romantic,” Ford drawled. While I’d always been tighter with Carson—hard not to—Ford had been there from the beginning. We’d seen some serious shit together.

“I think I have a right to stare,” I said, responding to his first statement. My eyes found Bellamy again, watching as her strong, beautiful leg snapped up to hit her opponent in the shoulder.

Good girl, I thought, the voice entirely my own. Though the Bond seemed to agree.

Ford’s low chuckle pulled my attention back. “That you do.”

“You don’t.” Well, that was ill-advised. Ford was notoriously close-lipped about Esme.

“It’s different. You know that.” His voice was surprisingly level, none of the bite I’d expected.

“How?” I dared to ask.

I wasn’t looking at him—my eyes still glued quite firmly to Bellamy—but I could tell he was shaking his head. “It just never woke up.”

It being the Bond. “Lucky bastard.”

Ford’s derisive laugh was all I got in response. Then, just because he could, he leaned down and knocked my knife over, laughing louder as it clanked to the ground.

That pulled my gaze from Bellamy. No one touched my knives. “You know I could stab you with this. So easily.”

“Good luck, man,” Ford said in return, something close to a smile on his face. I guess that was the best he could do. He never smiled. The few times I’d seen him do it, all of which had to do with his niece and nephew, it was impossible to miss how his scar had changed him. The left side of his face couldn’t move as well as the right.

He walked away as a pang of remembrance, of moments I was sworn to secrecy about, rang through my head. I wondered if he’d ever learn the full truth surrounding those dark days that he’d been taken prisoner, then rescued.

I certainly wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

My eyes snapped back to Bellamy on their own accord, like the Bond sensed something before it happened. A second later, Bellamy’s opponent got a rare advantage on her and kicked his boot into her knee, making her fall to the ground with a restrained whimper.