Page 61 of A Cruel Kindness

I was hanging on by a fucking thread.

Not because of the many things that were appropriate for me to be focusing on. The fact that my formerly departed Match had defected to the other side with concerningly little remorse.

The fact that the assignment we had ahead of us today was dangerous and might turn out to be an ambush.

Oh, the war in general and the soul-crushing knowledge I would never be getting out of it.

But no, no, I was focusing on the fact that Bellamy wasn’t wearing a bra.

I’d walked out of that bathroom less than a minute after I’d walked in, intent on apologizing to Bellamy for my abrupt exit. I had no plans for my explanation if she pressed, because I certainly couldn’t tell her the truth.

I’d felt her leave the second she slipped from my grasp this morning, and in my sleep-addled haze I thought someone was ripping her from me.

My eyes snapped open, intent on shoving the knife I kept under my pillow into the neck of whoever dared to take her from me. When I saw it was just her, looking at me with wide, shining eyes, relief hit me so hard I was seconds away from kissing her.

When I realized that I promised not to, for reasons I wasn’t remembering at the moment, I had to get away from her before I threw those promises out the window and spent the morning showing her how thoroughly she fucked with my head.

And now she was sitting in front of me in a tight shirt with nothing else underneath. I’d spent enough time sneaking glances at her chest to know that the difference was almost nonexistent.

That made me unreasonably angry, because any other asshole who tried to steal a peek at her perfect breasts would have gotten a similar view. Half of me wanted to blind anyone who had even looked in her direction before this. The other half wanted to smile like a smug bastard because she was mine.

I had to bite the edge of my coffee mug when she started talking with her hands, trying not to look and see if her excited movements were doing anything to her chest.

She and Esme were laughing about something that I couldn’t quite process, because the only thing I heard was blood rushing through my ears.

I liked when Bellamy spoke with her hands.

One, because I knew that we were both raised with the instruction to sit on our hands when we spoke and that her forgetting to do so meant she was actually invested in her conversation. She talked with her hands a lot around me, and even though I was sure it was primarily from exasperation, it still made me unreasonably happy.

Two, because when her hands were raised in front of her, speaking rapidly, the neckline of her shirt would move with her, exposing the branches of her Mark curling over her shoulders.

Someone was walking around with trays of food, looking to get rid of leftovers. I called them over, silently motioning for them to put more food on Bellamy’s plate. She cut off in the middle of her sentence, looking down at the plate, then up to me with a confused expression.

“We have a long day,” I explained simply.

“Are you controlling what I eat now?” Bellamy asked, with a bite in her tone that made my pants feel tight.

“Just eat it, princess.” I did not miss the way Bellamy’s lip tried to quirk up at the use of that endearment. “I don’t need you fainting on my watch.”

Bellamy’s lower lip pushed out in a pout. I wanted to nip it. “Aw, are you not strong enough to carry me?”

I wanted to keep going, keep bantering with her until it wiped away the tightness in my chest, but again, I was hanging on by a thread and her pouty, glossy lips weren’t helping matters. “Your blood sugar dips after about four hours. We might be pushing that.” I slid her plate towards her. “Eat.”

Shock flitted through Bellamy’s features, but she picked up her fork and stabbed it rather aggressively into a breakfast sausage. She was getting stabby. I liked it.

I was content to watch her munch away, looking at her eyes reacting to Esme’s story about a Muli party she’d crashed when Peter caught my eye from across the room and dipped his chin once.

“Alright, we’re heading out,” I said to the table. Esme raised her eyebrow at me, clearly unhappy I’d interrupted her story, but rose to stand, taking her plate with her quickly.

Ford followed with a frown, grabbing her forgotten coffee mug.

I snatched Bellamy’s plate before she could do anything, nodding at the door.

She grumbled a little, but ultimately listened to my silent command to wait for us by the door.

When I got to her, her arms were crossed over her chest and she said, “Who are you to order me around?”

Oh, she could not have given me a more perfect in. “Technically, I am the captain of this unit, though I much prefer my other title.”