Kindred Souls Complete Series: Books 1-4

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I resisted the comfortof the bed and being wrapped up between Whist and Sky and laid awake long into the night. My brain refused to shut up and grant me any peace.

As we rode, I had finally realized where we were. And coincidentally enough, their safe house wasn’t far from mine. It would take me half a day on foot to reach it.

My little shack still had a decent collection of tinned food and I still had a few coins in the hidden pocket of my cloak. It was enough to get me through the winter months. I could remain hidden until spring and perhaps by then the king would be onto the next person who irritated him. If the assassins returned to the king and explained I was their kindred, but had disappeared, they’d be forgiven. The king couldn’t expect them to kill me, it was impossible anyway. They could return to their families, friends, lives.

They wouldn’t be in danger anymore.

If they stayed with me, they would always be at risk. They would always put their lives on the line to keep me safe. I couldn’t give up my music. It would break something inside of me to stop playing my songs. And somehow, they understood it and supported it.

But they deserved more than a life on the run, hopping from one place to another. I was used to it. It was my whole life, and it was miserable.

I wouldn’t condemn them to the same fate. I cared about them too much. It wasn’t yet love, but it was headed there. It would be better for all of us if we ended it now before we learned to love each other.

At least the three of them would still be together.

I slid out from between them and Whist cracked open an eye. “You all right, gorgeous?”

Heat in my throat, I kissed him lightly. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. I have to use the washroom.”

He grunted and rolled over closer to Sky. My chest tightened at the sight, but I memorized it. This was how I wanted to remember them. The three of them crowded together, limbs tangled, different shades of naked skin gleaming in the moonlight.

I grabbed my boots and cloak from the floor and slipped out to the main room. I waited twenty minutes to be sure they were asleep and weren’t coming to look for me, then grabbed my ukulele and left.

Tears poured down my cheeks and a yawning cavern split my heart in two as I stumbled away into the dark night. I kept my eyes lowered, too scared to look up at the stars and remind myself of Whistler’s eyes. My choice was made, I couldn’t afford to weaken now.

My body trembled and shook like I was coming down from an opium addiction. The kindred bond may not have been completed, but it was damn close. And leaving them was killing me.

Over time, it wouldn’t be so bad. I hoped.

I hurried my steps, worried they were experiencing the same pain and would be after me before the morning woke them. If I’d taken one of the horses, it would have gotten me away farther faster, but I couldn’t take anything else from them.

They’d need the horses to return to the palace.

The pain sharpened, and I stumbled to my knees with a cry. I hadn’t expected it to be this bad. It wasn’t the last time I ran from them.

But the last time, I hadn’t slept with any of them. The last time, I hadn’t gotten to know them. I still fought against the bond. I wasn’t fighting it anymore.

Had I accepted the bond? Was the pain telling me I was too late?

There was usually a ceremony to accept it, but maybe it was a tradition built only for show. I hated how little I knew and understood about it.

I dragged myself back to my feet and forced myself to keep moving, needing at least another hour between me and their house before I could stop. Hopefully, they wouldn’t figure out which direction I went in.

Just a little farther and I’d stop to rest.

I wasn’t sure how long I wandered, barely aware of where I was or where I was going. Grief and pain ravaged me, making it difficult to focus. I was ashamed of myself, never expecting to be this pathetic over a man. Or three.

I was stronger than this. My whole adult life and most of my later childhood years were spent alone. I was used to it. A few days with a few handsome men wouldn’t change that.

It had been an exhausting week, I was stumbling tired. I had to stop. Just for a moment. I’d catch my breath and then be on my way again.

The darkness of the night lightened to gray. Clouds coated the sky, hiding the sun, warning of rain. It matched my mood, how appropriate.

The pain wasn’t as sharp. I was getting used to it and the bond was loosening. It made the tears fall harder, tears I hadn’t been able to stop since I walked out the door. I’d given up trying. I missed the pain. At least with it, I still felt connected to them. But the farther I walked, the more it faded.

The only pain in me now was the grief of losing them.

Fog rolled through the trees, making it harder for me to see where I was headed. I should have stopped, but I continued on since I wasn’t hurting as badly.

I wiped my face on my cloak, determined to pull myself together. I was being ridiculous. I made the right choice. It was best for them and it was possibly even best for me.

A figure appeared through the fog, and I was certain I was hallucinating until it tackled me to the ground.