Page 9 of A Sweet Destruction

Oh. I was the show.

Missing the underlying tension swirling around us, Alec pressed on. “She’s been going at it like a banshee. I mean shit, we’re mad too, but Esme must be imagining the Prince’s face on those rocks.”

I would have to know what the Prince looked like to imagine that, but I knew what Alec meant. “Yeah, his face,” I grumbled, letting Ford read between the lines. I could feel the weight of his stare on me, but was categorically refusing to look at him.

“And if you don’t stop staring,” I shot at Alec, “it might be your face,” I pointed the sledgehammer at him for emphasis, “that I start to imagine.”

Alec laughed, lifting his hands in surrender and stepping further up the hill and back towards his Match, the more subdued, observant side of their pair—who, true to their nature, was looking at me with curiosity.

Fine, whatever. I didn’t care anymore. I could shout it from the rooftops that I’d lied about the Bond for years.

I turned back to my rocks and the game I’d titled how many of Ford’s bones can I break? I’d just made it to his right femur, moving from his feet upwards, when he’d interrupted.

“You’re imagining my face on there, aren’t you?”

I stopped in my movements, the heavy hammer falling back to my side. I looked up at Ford before I knew what was good for me. I hated the way my breath caught at the image of him standing over me, looming taller than normal.

“Why don’t you come lay down and I can compare? That one looked eerily like you.”

I frowned the second I was done speaking, annoyed I’d engaged with him.

Ford’s eyes narrowed at me before he shook his head, his nose scrunching up with distaste. “No, I don’t think I will.” He bent to pick up a discarded hammer, flipping it in his hand like it weighed nothing.

I wondered what he would do if I tripped him.

“You go ahead and imagine my face is on those rocks,” Ford said, a teasing note slipping into his voice. I’d heard him level that tone with other people. It made him seem confident and a little arrogant. I’d found a twisted pleasure in hearing him subtly assert dominance over others before. Now when it was focused on me, I wanted to punch him in the stomach.

When he added, “I’ll be doing the same with yours,” I seriously considered throwing something at him.

I didn’t condone violence, not in the slightest. Ironic, that, considering I was on the front lines of a war and had taken several lives through my direct and indirect actions.

Even then, I wanted to grab Ford’s face and squeeze until his eyes started bugging out of his head. “Oh, fuck you,” I grumbled, resigned to let him imagine me all he wanted.

“Eloquent,” Ford snapped back, the word punctuated by the sound of a splintering rock.

Oh sweet God, he was barely exerting himself. I was sweating, my hair plastered to my forehead. I knew my eyes were still red from the restrained tears and my skin was probably streaked with dirt.

Ford was covered in ash and grime himself, but it looked carefully painted on to give him a rough and tumbled look. What an ass.

Shocked by the forceful direction of my thoughts, I focused back on the task at hand. The anger rankled, a sign that I no longer had that the medication was starting to wear off and I was losing that blissful buzz of nothingness.

There were moments where something dark and primal put up a good fight, nearly wrestling back control, but all in all, the suppressant had done its job splendidly.

After a few minutes where the only sounds that registered were the crumbling and crashing of rocks, Ford spoke again. “We’re going to—”

I snapped up, almost falling back on the uneven ground. Ford’s eyes watched my movements, shifting ever so slightly, but that was the extent of the reaction out of him. There was a part of me that wanted to tell him exactly what happened to make me take those pills just to see what he would do. Instead, I said, “Can you just ignore me again? I was enjoying that.”

Ford cocked his head, raking those too-observant eyes over me in two quick passes before saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”

He had me there. Unfortunately. My choices were to concede or admit that it had felt like he was ignoring me because he simply paid me the gentle respect of a partner instead of the all consuming obsession I’d wanted. That I’d paid him in secret.

Well, it seemed that avoidance was the path I was going to continue walking down. “I’m not playing this game with you,” I said, pointing my sledgehammer at him and trying to appear menacing.

Ford simply smiled. “I really wish you would.”

I took two steps forward before I knew what I was doing, no better than a fish clamping onto something shiny in the water. Ford, thankfully, matched my movements and retreated two steps to keep the distance between us.

He held up his hands in surrender and barked, “Fine! Fine.” It wasn’t until I stopped in my pursuit and lowered my weapon back down to my side that he continued in a hesitant voice, “Look, Esme, I’m just…I’m trying to wrap my head around this here.”