Chapter 8
Esme
You left me.
The first words the Bond said on its return, crawling out of its cage and scraping its claws all over my sanity.
I should have known it would take the first opportunity I gave it to attack me. I’d been distracted, already mentally exhausted from the day before and physically from a night of trying to meditate myself into a restfulness that kept evading me.
Only further distracted by the way I’d found Ford, standing tall on the top of the hill, sledgehammer curled in his large hand, making it look like a children’s toy.
Bellamy had tried to get me to greet him and Soren with her, arguing that I had no choice but to interact with him, and the quicker I readjusted, the easier it would be.
I knew she thought she was helping, thought she knew what it was like to suppress the Bond. She hadn’t suppressed it, she’d just delayed it.
Despite the fervor with which her and Soren resisted it at the beginning, they’d known deep down they’d fully accept it one day. Hell, they basically had the first second they saw each other again.
That was not the same thing as the Bond looking for its twin in another, only to come up empty, then turning that betrayed rage back on you.
It was better to stay put, though I couldn’t bring myself to turn my back on Ford.
Overnight, the way he was looking at me, full of keen observation, was shifting into something deeper.
I could have sworn I felt the pressure of his eyes on me like it was his hand instead, lingering on my arms, then moving to my shoulders, then landing somewhere near my midsection before snapping over to Bellamy on her arrival.
Still, even as I felt my mind shift, like two tectonic plates sliding against one another and opening up a crevice in the earth, I didn’t focus my energies.
It was the opening the Bond needed.
And when the wind turned downhill and Ford’s scent managed to reach me, that incessant, pleading entity finally broke out of the medicated daze I’d shoved it into.
You left me, it repeated, growling the words this time. Already angry that I was ignoring it.
Even as my blood turned to ice, I managed to respond. I will kill you. I did it once, I can do it again, making sure my words were punctuated, so the Bond wouldn’t miss the threat.
That’s mean, the Bond said, its voice thick with the same whimper a dog made when you denied it a treat.
You’re mean, I shot back, swatting at it like a fly. Irritation built so fast, it felt like waves sweeping my feet out from under me.
I could feel the Bond’s frown as viscerally as if I was watching it happen in front of me. No. I’m very nice. Also helpful. Should I remind you how I—
Shut UP! I all but stomped my foot to emphasize my point.
Something pulled tight in my midsection, and I snapped back into focus just in time to see Ford pick up his strides towards me, nearly at a run.
Without thinking, I turned on my heel and started to run myself, all of the sudden terrified of what I would do if I was in his presence now that the Bond was back and I didn’t have the luxury of hiding any bad behavior.
I could barely spare a second thought for how that would look to an outsider, me running full sprint away from my Soul Mate. Though I wanted to run and run and run away from him, I diverted to a crowd, heading straight for where everyone was gathered for breakfast.
Stopping just inside the group I sucked in a heaving breath.
Why are you running? Oh boy, the Bond did not sound happy with me.
Too bad.
“Damn, Esme, we’re not going to run out of food.”
“Fuck you, Anderson,” I snapped back at the soldier of thirty that I’d known since he was a gangly twenty-two year old who hadn’t grown into his height yet.
Anderson’s responding laugh was cut off by the sounds of conversation picking back up, people to focused on food and the still-potent anxiety from yesterday’s attack to pay my odd behavior any mind.
Okay. This was safe.
Surely Ford wouldn’t do anything—
The next thing I knew, I was looking at a line of tan skin between the hem of a shirt and low-slung cargo pants.
Oh—Ford had—I was…
Mortified. Mortified by the immediate and intense rush of warmth that poured through my body at his touch, overwhelmed by all the points we were connected. My legs to his hard chest, my abdomen plastered to his back, it was all too much.
“Ford,” I squeaked out, fighting a cringe at how utterly terrified I sounded.
I didn’t know what was happening, and the Bond was—
Well, the Bond chose that moment to increase the volume of its inarticulate scream of pleasure in my head.
A second later, I was back down on the ground, staring up into Ford’s face. He was frowning, his eyes a little dazed like he didn’t know what was happening either.
“I don’t care what is going on, but we are HUNGRY!” someone yelled at us, making me realize that we’d taken some steps forward and we were now at the front of the breakfast line.
In a demonstration of rank that always made me uncomfortable, paranimas got to eat first. Since there had only been two of us before, it hadn’t caused much of a ruckus, but it never ceased to make me feel weird.
Everyone was risking their lives out here, some of them against their will. I was no more important than them just because I had a parasite living in my head.
I forced myself to look away from Ford, even though his expression still seemed a little distant, and reached for a plate.
“Go sit down,” Ford said, snatching it right out of my hands. I thought about taking it back, and as if he could sense my intention, simply lifted it in the air over his head.
“You are not going to feed me. You don’t even know what I want,” I protested, the back of my neck itching uncomfortably. I did that myself. It was easier that way.
Let him take care of you, the Bond snapped, angry that I was trying to ignore the barest hint of kindness from him.
“You can throw it in my face if I mess it up,” Ford said casually, turning towards the food to survey what had been laid out for us.
It was simpler than normal, more of a porridge spread than the usual hearty food we were given to make sure we had the energy to work well into the nighttime.
“Sit down or risk everyone else’s wrath. ”
“I liked you better when you weren’t speaking this much,” I snapped at him, making sure my frown was as deep as it could go. By body was still buzzing an uncomfortable warmth that made it hard to actually feel mad at him, but I’d learned long ago how to ensure my mind stayed stronger.
“I liked you better before I knew you were taking pills to quiet the Bond,” Ford said calmly. So calmly that I didn’t realize what he said for a few moments.
I stood there, stock still and mute as Ford moved on down the breakfast line, shoveling things onto my plate with quick efficiency.
“Fine,” I snapped, though it held little fire. “You want to make my food so bad? I’m going to sit down.”
I turned and stomped toward the table that Bellamy and Soren were seated at, relishing in the harsh rattling of my joints.
Joining them in a heap of limbs as I shoved myself between the bench and the table, I looked at Bellamy’s plate, which had a healthy serving on it.
“Are you going to eat all of that?” I asked, pointing specifically at the pastry. I did tend to have a nasty sweet tooth. “I’m hungry and I plan on throwing my food at Ford.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Bellamy said, her voice filled with the sort of sly happiness that could only come from being truly content. “I am quite hungry. I worked up an appetite—”
“EW!” I yelled, right where I realized where she was going. I pointed at Soren in accusation, who was smiling like a wolf behind the rim of his coffee mug. “He’s rubbing off on you.”
He wasn’t, really. Maybe in the sense that being with him made Bellamy happier, but they had started out quite similar. Not just because they were both raised as Royals, but because they had the same fierce protectiveness for the people they loved and the same whip-smart instincts.
“I welcome it,” Bellamy said, her words slow and confident.
“Goddess help me,” I muttered under my breath, dropping my head to my hands.
Everyone was trying me today. I breathed out deeply, until I heard the distinct call of Freya’s hello from across the field.
I lifted my head to find her bouncing toward us with a bright smile and windblown hair from what was surely her morning ride.
She spent more time on Starlight than on the ground, constantly running off to only God knew where. She was a free spirit, that one.
Though I could never quite surmise whether she was seeking freedom out there or something else entirely.
“Oh, thank you,” I said when she approached. “You are the only sane person here.”
Freya didn’t appear to hear me. Her smile was wide as she joined us at the table.
Once she was seated, she opened her hand to reveal a collection of small black screws in her palm.
She stared at them as if they were as precious as emeralds.
“Look at these screws I found. They are so interesting.” She picked one up, lifting it so that we could inspect it.
“With this design, they shouldn’t be able to withstand that much pressure, but the guns they are used in are massive. ”
Then Ford appeared with plates of food in his hands, and for some reason, he seemed like my salvation.
See, this was the problem.
Unfortunately, Freya had taken the seat across from me, which left the one to my side open. Ford sat down, placing my plate in front of me, and I felt my temperature rise by several degrees.
The food he’d brought over blurred in my vision, though I had a mind enough to realize that it was what I would have selected for myself.
See, we like him, the Bond protested, sensing the depth of my ire. The Bond was a simple being, either amplifying your own emotions or pushing forward primal instincts—hunger, exhaustion…desire.