Page 64 of A Sweet Destruction

Bellamy and Soren were following close behind, and I caught a moment where their eyes connected and held for a moment. I was sure Soren was still reeling a bit from seeing Carson, his brother who betrayed him.

If I knew him well at all, he was probably considering how likely Peter was to just execute him. Bellamy probably reminded him that wouldn’t do his conscience much good in the long run.

I commended Bellamy for her control. Though Soren and Carson had been the platonic sort of Match, a brotherhood stronger than most blood bonds, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be confronted with your Soul Mate’s former Match, especially after Carson’s betrayal.

At least Carson had the decency to cover up his Mark now, a large tree that covered most of his back. He and Soren had been a ninety-nine percent match, damn near twins, but if you looked hard enough, there would be slight differences in their Marks. I’d caught Bellamy staring at Carson’s back more than once, as if she was looking for those very differences herself.

Prove that Soren was really hers.

There was never any doubt about that. That dumbass was besotted with her from the first second they breathed the same air again.

My eyes shifted over to Bridgers, who I just now noticed had a Mark on his own back—a simple, if not slightly muddled, outline of a bird. Odd, that his Match wasn’t with the unit, but then again, something may well have happened. War didn’t bode all that well for longevity.

I wouldn’t be all that surprised. He looked a little uncomfortable. The Bond took a moment to chastise me for judging him, reminding me that I would feel the same if separated from Esme.

Even then, Bridgers was shifting back and forth on the back of his horse, straightening then relaxing.

I looked over to Esme, finding that the wonder in her eyes had sharpened into observation. She was also looking at Bridgers, though when she felt me looking at her again, her eyes shifted back.

Esme’s eyes narrowed, her chin tilting slightly to the left. You see that, too?

One, nearly imperceptible dip of my chin said, Yes. But why?

There was a quick exchange between us, which brought us to the conclusion that I’d watch our surroundings in case Bridgers was anticipating an ambush while Esme would watch him.

I took a slow path down my left side, trailing the river bank and the sharp rocks it crashed against, before moving fully over my shoulder. Anya, Elijah’s right hand who was deceptively sweet-looking, and I caught her right as her gaze snapped away from me and towards the woods.

Ah, so she’d been looking at us. And why did I get the sense that she’d noticed that we’d been silently communicating?

It really wasn’t that special, a skill easily built from working together for nearly a decade. The only special part about it was the screaming entity in my head. That, and the fact that with every passing moment, I felt that otherworldly tether to Esme strengthen.

It had been barely two days since it first appeared. It might have been concerning that it had grown so fast—actually it was concerning.

I’d cornered Soren the previous night, forcing him to answer my questions where the Bond was concerned. He seemed all too happy to answer, if not to make fun of me for my impending demise, as he described it.

Though there were plenty of questions that resulted in him shaking his head with a laugh and answering, “Hell no, you have to learn that for yourself,” he’d been forthcoming about one thing.

We had been sipping on some Muli whiskey I’d stolen when Esme had trotted by on Sky’s back, trailing after Freya to go on a quick run.

The glass I’d been holding had landed on the ground, spilling liquid gold like it cost nothing, and I’d been out of my seat on instinct, the tether between us snapping tight.

That little display had prompted me to ask Soren how much the Bond influenced you. If it made you crazy or just preyed on your existing insanity.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking to hear, but Soren’s answer made it worse.

“It’s part of you,” he’d said, eyes unfocused on the horizon. I had a feeling that somewhere in the direction he was looking, Bellamy was there. “It will enhance, guide. But it doesn’t make shit up. It might seem like it is, if something is really repressed. But I’ve learned it has a stronger connection to my subconscious than I do. You’re still in control, especially where timing is concerned—trust me, that thing does not care about decorum—but it won’t make you think something that isn’t at least a little bit true.”

The problem was, I didn’t think Esme was prepared to deal with what was coming up on my end.

Nervousness was one thing, this was uncharted territory for both of us. But she looked terrified. Jumping on her would make things no better, and she wouldn’t believe me that the Bond had simply ripped the lid off of every repressed thought I’d had over the years.

This had to be on her terms, even if it meant I had to put myself between her and the Bond and let it rail against me. Small price to pay, seeing as she’d done the same.

In a sick part of my brain, I was happy I didn’t know. I didn’t think I would have been able to handle the Bond, not at the beginning. In the state I was in, filled with anger and resentment, the Bond would have latched onto Esme as the only bright part of my life and formed some toxic, codependent obsession with her.

No, no, this was good. I could handle this now, make sure she wasn’t inadvertently hurt by anything. I’d had a rough go of it, but she hadn’t lived an easy life either.

The Bond seemed to sense my determination, knowing it was Esme’s well-being that was on the other side of this, and curled up to sleep in the back of my mind.