Page 39 of A Sweet Destruction

How did I explain to such a simple entity that joy was what hurt the most, knowing it wasn’t returned?

I kept my gaze trained forward, tracking over the rocks we needed to climb down.

It only made sense that our first Cross with the Bond back would have to be technically challenging on top of everything else, rather than a simple stride across.

As was typical with fear, that fateful moment where you had to face it anyway came far faster than I wanted, brought on by Peter’s nod of permission.

Ford and I began the slow climb down the rocks, careful only to make sure that one of us didn’t accidentally step into the Bridge prematurely. I snuck a look at Ford, noticing the tension in his muscles immediately.

Surely in part from stress, but also from restraint. Though he masked it well, I knew how much of that little boy who loved adventure with abandon still lived inside him. How much he wanted to scale mountains without fear, but actively restrained himself under the weight of his responsibilities.

In turn, I’d always had the urge to make his life a little easier so he could give into those impulses. There were few ways I could do so secretly, but I’d tried anyway.

What I should have been doing was focusing on not tripping, rather than reliving old memories. A well timed thought, seeing as a rock I’d placed my weight on dislodged a second later, sending me off balance.

A feeling that only got worse, as I was dragged against a chest hard as stone and went tumbling through the Bridge.

Chapter 11

Ford

There was a good chance I was dying.

I’d had that thought many times over while Crossing, considering every single trip through the Bridge felt like it was sucking my life force out of me.

Peter had often described the experience of a Cross as being pummeled by horses, like getting trampled by the full weight of the world then spit out on the other side with your skin barely holding you together.

Though I wasn’t one for dramatics, I considered that a gross understatement.

I was sure that was the experience for others, the pain getting more severe as the Matches descended in compatibility, the split between worlds trying harder and harder to tear them apart.

The two other paranimas who had been on active duty when I was first drafted had described it as painful, but with a sort of weird mix of pleasure added, like the Bond was most potent at those moments.

I didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about.

Every single time we Crossed—and the number was at least over two hundred—I was sure that would be the end of my life.

The pain was nearly unbearable, those precious seconds dragging out into agonized oblivion.

The only thing I could focus on was not locking up my muscles hard enough to break Esme’s hand under my grip. Luckily, her hand always seemed flexed, able to withstand a bit of pressure.

That’s because she’s in pain too. That was an old thought, one that I couldn’t have resurfacing while I was trying to climb down rocks and make sure one of us didn’t go tumbling into the Bridge without the other.

Look up.

Another thought, seemingly tossed from the back of my brain.

I listened to it, looking up at the exact moment Esme stumbled over her footing.

My arm was around her waist in seconds, hauling her to me, right as we both dropped into the Bridge.

The feeling of Esme’s body against mine was a distant consideration as the pain set in, slapping me with a force ten times more blinding than it had ever felt before.

My body felt like it was splitting in half, the very core of my being severing to make room for a white-hot burst of energy.

Though my vision was already hazy with long streaks of cosmic stardust, I forced myself to look down.

Esme’s chin tipped up at the same time, bringing our eyes together. My focus latched onto her like a life raft, keeping me afloat in the middle of a storm.