Page 62 of A Sweet Destruction

With our enemies approaching and our lives on the line, all I could bring myself to do was say, “Okay.”

How silly was it that I was so scared of Ford, when there was a group of Muli soldiers standing right in front of us. All eyes went to Elijah first—hard not too when he stood taller and broader than his already impressively sized companions, sitting atop a regal horse with a coat richer than a starless night.

It had been longer than I realized since I’d seen him, and his form was a shock. It wasn’t anything other than idle observation—especially since there was an entity living in my head who would remove its very home if it was anything different—but Elijah was, quite frankly, hard to look at.

It wasn’t just his size. He looked like he was carved out of marble—straight nose, a brutal curve to his jaw, pointed cheekbones. His eyes were shadowed by a strong brow, darkening the already deep brown of his eyes.

His skin carried the tan of someone well-used to outside work, but was still shockingly pale compared to the near black of his hair. The first time I met him, I thought he looked fucking terrifying.

That thought remained, if not slightly exaggerated from my baseline nerves.

On instinct, I looked around, trying to gain back some sense of understanding in my surroundings.

He was with the crew I recognized, four of his company. And Carson, who I should probably start considering as part of that group. He’d chosen them over us, anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Soren tense up at the sight of Carson, though it probably had something to do with Bellamy now.

Bellamy, who had been shot and left for dead, thinking she’d never have another moment with her Soul Mate, and here I was—finding the concept of trotting off into unfamiliar territory more appealing than a simple conversation with Ford.

It’s not that silly, the Bond grumbled, on my side for once, You were very sad.

The momentary wash of despair that followed that thought was quickly shoved away when the Bond caught wind of our impending brush with our enemies.

My instincts sharpened with adrenaline, cataloging so much in so few seconds, it wouldn’t be until far later than I would be able to recall exactly what I’d seen.

But one thing that broke through was Freya’s cooing under her breath, trying to soothe Starlight. Freya’s horse was famously restless, requiring lengthy runs every day, but this seemed like something different.

Was she picking up on Freya’s own nerves?

“Hello, Elijah.” Bellamy was the first to speak, her regal lilt breaking through the silence. “I’m glad to be seeing you again.”

Elijah’s lip curled into an impressed smile, before slowly cataloging our group. An obvious and outdone scare tactic, if you ask me, but I kept silent as he tracked over each of us.

His smile deepened at something he saw when looking at Ford, shortly after he’d taken his sweet ass time drawing his eyes over every inch of my exposed Mark. When on Muli territory, you dressed the part and baring your Mark was part of it, wearing clothing with clear panels that allowed it to shine through.

I kept my eyes on Elijah, no matter how badly I wanted to see what made his smile crack to show teeth. It was a good thing, ultimately, because I caught the moment that his mouth flattened into a harsh line, all humor leaving his expression. “Who the fuck are you?”

Every head whipped towards the victim of Elijah’s ire, finding Arthur staring at him with a creased brow. “M-me?”

“Yes. You.” Elijah barked, tone harsher than I’d ever heard, even when he was regaling all of Vir’s sins.

To Arthur’s credit, the only sign he was affected by Elijah was the white knuckled grip he had on his saddle. His voice was surprisingly clear as he responded, “Arthur.”

“My Match,” Freya cut in, her tone edging with defensiveness.

Elijah’s eyes cut to her in a heartbeat, holding for no longer than a second before dropping to her chest. Not her breasts, though it would be easy to mistake the two. Freya’s Mark was a smattering of stars across her upper arms, shoulders, and chest, with one larger, elongated star right over her sternum, the bottom point reaching her upper stomach.

Elijah’s lip curled with disgust as he looked at her Mark, then dragged his eyes over to inspect the Mark that was painstakingly tattooed into Arthur’s skin with semi-permanent ink. I wondered if he was trying to figure out where they differed, trying to figure out for himself how strong their connection was.

“I can see that,” he finally said after a moment, eyes still narrowed. Freya had never been a fan of rules and never exposed her Mark unless she had to. Even this morning, she’d fought Peter on her attire until he brought up that Arthur needed to be anchored to someone and she’d begrudgingly changed her clothing.

“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word and trying to regain Elijah’s attention. His eyes snapped to me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I noticed a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “Admittedly, the promise of being let into another Muli town is enticing so can we please get this show on the road.”

Elijah blinked once at me. “Certainly. You’ve met my company,” he said, gesturing to his unit. “Anya, Leon,” he said gesturing his chin at a Matched pair, who I couldn’t quite get a read on—whether they were platonic or romantic. It was quite easy to spot a Match, their energies similar and, if they’d been Matched long enough, there was a quality in their movement and speech that was unique to their other half.

Something about them struck me as newly Matched, or at least switching from platonic to romantic and still figuring it out. “Please take up the rear. We don’t want to keep our honored guests waiting.”

Anya dipped her sharply pointed chin, clearly the leader between the paid, and moved her horse to the pack of our group without another word.