Chapter 12
TWELVE
NORTH
The silver locks of hair slide like silk through my fingers, a soothing action that’s almost muscle memory at this point.
I know I’ve laid here with my Bonded splayed out on my chest a thousand nights before, that I’ve enjoyed the endless pleasures of her skin pressed against my own in the darkest hours of our shared nights more times than I could count, and yet it’s never enough.
The sun isn’t up yet, still flirting with the horizon, and there’s a heavy mist in the valley outside of the roughly carved window. The wooden frames look rustic, makeshift, and there’s no glass in them, only thin linen curtains that rustle with the soft breeze circulating the early morning air.
I don’t recognize the room, or the view, but despite the lumpy mattress and heinous lack of pillows on this bed, I’ve never been so comfortable.
My Bond is safe. She’s sleeping right where she belongs, every inch of her body satisfied after a night of worship at my hands, and no one in the world knows where we are.
Then something shifts on the far side of the bed and I recognize the movement as my brother, rolling closer to his Bond in his sleep. Her face turns toward him in response, their connection drawing them to one another and binding us all together.
My peace shatters instantly.
It’s a dream.
None of this is real.
Cracks form deep in my chest at that revelation, hairline at first, but when the next one comes, they grow outward like spiderwebs until every inch of my soul is covered.
I will never have this future. No matter the common ground I may find with my Bond, no matter what a little growing up will do for her, I’ll never know this peace within my Bond Group because this is an impossibility for Nox.
A fissure opens up within me, despair rushing through until those tiny cracks are forced open under the pressure and my defenses are decimated. Drowning in the misery and gut-wrenching truths that I can no longer hide from, I’m trapped in the perfection of this cruel nightmare.
I lay in that bed with my Bond and my brother, only it’s not truly them, just the versions of them that were stolen away from us along with the future we could’ve had.
“I can’t take much more of this. Do I need to make my complaint in writing for it to be taken seriously? Which council member deals with this bullshit?”
Sending Gryphon a droll look over the stack of papers in my hands, his whining gives me a welcome distraction from the disturbing intel there.
“Addressing feedback, concerns, and complaints from the community are within my scope, though I should warn you, my emails are filtered by level of importance, so don't expect a speedy response to your whining.”
He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, but the surly look he sends me is belied by the sunken look to his eyes and sallow coloring he still hasn’t been able to shake.
Propped up in his bed, he still looks as though he’s gone ten rounds with the Reaper, or maybe clawing his way back to life from a bad case of the plague.
Even after a solid ten hours of sleep, he looks pitiful.
With my laptop and a thick file of documents on hand, I’d taken up watch at the unused desk in the corner of his room while Nox had slept in the armchair across the room with half a dozen of his nightmares lurking around.
I wasn’t expecting to forego sleep entirely, but the violence and horror detailed in the reports had kept me busy until the entire night had passed without me realizing.
Without disturbing the beast sleeping on his chest, Nox turns to Gryphon with a scathing look, and the smirk stretched over his lips has a particularly cutting edge to it.
“The last time I pointed out that he’s whining, Gryph threatened to knock me out.
Maybe he really is feeling better and we should let him out of here.
We’ll have to let Vivan know he’s employing a new defensive technique; sweating and trembling at our enemies and hoping for the best. I’m sure that’ll work wonders for our survivor recovery numbers. ”
Leaving him in charge of Gryphon’s respite ‘care’ might've been a mostly self-serving task, but it proved to be the right call after the stubborn asshole collapsed. Insisting he knew better than the Healer and forgoing Payne’s instructions to rest, he’d attempted to take a shower.
Nox is more than capable of moving Gryphon by himself, so when his nightmare creature came to fetch me, there’s no question in my mind that he only wanted to add another witness to what he perceives as his friend’s shame.
It doesn’t matter that Gryphon and I have spent the last five years developing a relationship strong enough to withstand far greater threats than these petty ploys, my brother could never accept that truth.
To Nox, having any weakness exposed, no matter how close the friendship or blood bond may be, is intolerable and should be avoided at all costs.
When my phone buzzes on the table, Nox’s eyes drop to it as the sneer fixes itself into a more malicious shape when he finds that it’s not Councilman Draven’s cell but my personal one.
With how often I’m contacted thanks to my position on the council, only a select few Gifted have access to my private line.
My brother is well-aware of this, and outside of this room, there are only three Gifted who could be messaging me.
Pitching my tone low, non-threatening and completely flat so as not to give him any extra ammunition to fire at me, I murmur to him, “It’s Gabe. Bassinger never contacts me, and Fallows barely acknowledges any of us.”
Gryphon’s eyes stay glued to the bedspread as he huffs, but before I can seethe over the advantages his Gift affords him, he drawls at us, words dripping with sarcasm, “The council would eat itself alive if it knew that the indomitable North Draven answered solely to his unstable and, arguably, manic brother.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t see it, turning to glare at Nox instead, so I attempt to shift his ire back to me and away from my brother’s simmering temper.
“I had no idea Nox has dug so far under your skin. Maybe you need more than just a few days of bed rest. I’ll call Payne back here. ”
It doesn’t work, and instead, Gryphon and Nox trade death stares as the Neuro snaps back, “He’s been actively tormenting our Bond, beating my team half to death in training, throwing women at me at every opportunity, and now he’s on babysitting duty with added running commentary after I’ve just had my brain scrambled as if my own Gift turned rabid…
to say I’m pissed is putting it lightly. ”
He finally turns to me with a scathing look. “You’re not a dense man, North. None of this has escaped your notice. You’re choosing your brother’s petty games and coddling your hurt pride over your Bond Group right now.”
My stomach lurches violently.
My skin is instantly crawling with shame.
From any other Gifted, this would be a pathetic jab in the dark and not worth my time nor my efforts.
I doubt it would even be memorable among the slew of vitriol I deal with on a daily basis, but coming from Gryphon, I’m instantly ashamed of myself… because he’s right.
No matter what I’ve told her, my abhorrent treatment toward Oleander has been fueled by my own embarrassment and hurt feelings, though describing it as that seems like a gross understatement.
After decades of waiting to find my Bond while my own bond grew more sentient and violent with every passing day, losing her the same day we found her was devastating.
At first we assumed the Resistance took her, and I almost killed myself trying to find her.
Handing off most of my council duties to my uncle, I worked relentlessly with the Tactical Teams to clear out as many camps as we could find.
For two years, I barely ate, barely slept, and my guilt almost ate me alive.
I’d prioritized Nox’s fragile grasp on sanity over her safety, and we’d lost her.
I’d failed my Bond before I even laid eyes on her.
It doesn’t matter that the rest of the Bond Group didn't blame me, I knew it was my fault.
Even if I'd been tempted to absolve myself, my bond would never let me forget.
It only allowed me to live because I was more useful in the search for our Bond alive.
Regardless, it was the fear of what torture my Bond was enduring that tore me apart.
Then we found her alive.
All the fear and guilt that writhed within me turned into fury at the girl for abandoning us all instead, but as much as I'd like to say she deserves it all, that's not true. She abandoned us, true, but that’s not technically a crime. Even with how looked down upon such an act is within our community, she didn’t owe us anything.
Technically, it’s my own efforts to keep her at Draven that are the only real crimes being committed.
Cursing Gryphon under my breath, I pick up my phone as it buzzes again.
If the TacTeams are still fully manned and tailing Oli, I’m going to skip class to check in with my mom today. I’ve been slacking and my head isn’t in the right place to be around our Bond.
Sorry, North. I’ll get my shit together and do better tomorrow, I promise.
Furious all over again, my shame evaporates with the searing heat of my anger. Reassuring Gabe that he's not letting anyone down isn’t an easy task, but I have more than enough eyes on our Bond to keep her out of trouble while he sees to his infuriatingly absent mother.
The message I send my Bond is far less kind, but I manage to keep it civil.