CHAPTER SIXTY #2
The statement stung more than it had any right to. Beyond all reason.
Emmery gritted her teeth and continued, “When I woke, I didn’t know what it was.
I didn’t know what you did when we shared blood and you mumbled that nonsense.
” She growled and raked her hands through her hair.
Every last nerve inside her snapped as she leaned against the wall for support.
“I didn’t know what it was, but now I do.
It’s you. I can … feel you.” She wanted to claw the mark from her hand, to rip flesh from bone.
“You’re under my skin. Deep inside me, my gut, my core, in my bloodstream.
You’re all twisted up with my magic and I can’t tell what’s you and what’s me. ”
And though it filled that empty chasm inside her, this was wrong. It was supposed to be Shade she bonded to, not him. Destonne had no right.
“Would you let me explain—”
“I’m not fucking finished. You stamped Property of Destonne O’Daire on my damn hand!”
“I’ll only explain this once, and I want you to listen.
” She opened her mouth to snap back but he went on, “Bonds can’t be forced.
Blood has to be exchanged and there must be a phrase to tie it, but aside from those conditions, whatever the soul wills wins.
Both parties have to want it, and not temporarily.
It has to be a deep desire in your bones and your blood. Something true.”
He crossed the distance and stood in front of her, smelling of night air and mint tea, and she wanted to cry or scream or hit him or tear off his clothes. She didn’t know. Couldn’t get any damn sense through her mind.
“Would you look at me?” he asked.
She shook her head. She couldn’t, not with him this close. All the things she’d heard in the labyrinth, all the images she’d seen, all the inadequacies and fears were all real. She was a vile, despicable person, and she’d let Zyphira down, betrayed Shade, and failed everyone.
Gently, he took her face in his hands and met her eyes, and she let him, only for a moment. “The truth is you, Emmery Hawthorne, my perfect, pretty angel, have feelings for me you can’t admit. Even to yourself.”
Guilt struck her so violently, it may as well have been a fatal blow. “That’s—that’s not true. You’re out of your damn mind!”
He nodded at her hand. “Why don’t you tell the bond that, and see if it’ll listen? Because you aren’t convincing me.”
She seized his hand from her cheek and searched it. “Then where’s your mark? Or is your soul too blackened to want anything other than to control me?”
“Middeo. It’s a … half bond.” He uttered it like a dirty word. “If you repeated what I said it would be whole, but I didn’t expect that from you. And I don’t expect it now.”
Emmery dropped his hand like a hot poker straight from the fire, jabbed her finger into his hard chest, and snarled, “Take it back!”
His jaw worked as he studied her hand, like he barely clung to the ledge and falling would be both terrifying and catastrophic as his quiet rage rattled the bars of its cage.
“I can’t. Even if I wanted to, and I certainly don’t.
Bonds are permanent. Only death can sever them.
And I hate to break it to you, but your heart stopped, and there it remains. ”
Her legs numbed as her body became a coffin; a choice she didn’t make. She no longer belonged to herself. All the pieces of her would always belong to him. He’d stolen that from her.
Destonne’s stare bore into her as they battled for air, the room too small, too quiet, and thick tension clouded the space between them.
Images rose in her mind of his tongue on her scars, his mouth on her body, his face between her thighs, and his blood in her mouth, visceral like the labyrinth’s vision where she could feel herself on that bed.
But she refused to look away. Refused to let him win.
“I won’t apologize for what I did,” he said, his voice low. “I told you as much the first day we met.”
“No. The first day we met I watched you snap someone’s neck.”
“The first day we really met. The first day you knew who I was. Like I said before, I’ve never claimed to be anything I’m not. I take what I desire. And what I really want—” He braced his arm on the wall over her head, the sliver of space between them agony. “I want you, Emmery.”
Her heart stuttered, cinched tighter like a hand clutching an overripe fruit until it burst. “You can’t have me. I’m not yours.”
“You were certainly mine when you had those beautiful legs spread for me. When you bared your soul. And if you recall, I did the same. Or was I mistaken?”
Emmery ground her teeth, trying to shove away the heartbreak. She’d trusted him and it’d seemed mutual but now it was … warped. “Just because I let you touch me—”
“Let me touch you? Like some favour?” He choked out a laugh. “Oh, angel, you begged me to. And if you took a step back and looked at yourself, you’d see that you in fact used me. We’re the same, you and I.”
“I would never do this to you! You stole my choice. You tricked me! And you—you ruined everything!” She clamped a hand over her mouth as a sob worked its way up her throat.
“The prophecy. This fever. You fucked it all up. You took me away from Shade! He’ll never want me if I’m bonded to someone else. ”
His face hid beneath that mask, but he blinked, and pain bled through. “If your Shade doesn’t want you that’s his choice.”
“Why did you do it, Destonne?” His breath brushed her lips. “I know you. You don’t do things without reason. What’s in this for you? Is it—did you get something from this bond? I don’t even know what it means. Is it so you can use me? My magic—”
“Stop.”
They both gulped air as they stood close but not close enough.
“Make me,” she challenged.
“You wouldn’t want me to. Because if I kiss you right now, you’ll fall to pieces in my hands. I can already see it in your eyes.” He blinked slowly at her. Blinked something away. Hid it from her like everything else. “So, please, just stop.”
“No. Tell me why you did this. Tell me.” Her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut, battling tears. “Tell me why.”
Because it hurts. Because I trusted you and you hurt me, she wanted to say, wanted to scream, but it stuck in her throat.
“Emmery—” But her name broke off and he said no more.
“Don’t you care about the prophecy? Saving your people?
You said you did. You told me that before we left for the Hollow.
And it’s all riding on my shoulders.” She breathed fire, hard and fast, her cheeks hot.
“You could at least pretend you care. About this. About any of it. About me. Because I thought you did. For a moment, I actually thought you cared about me.”
His carefully crafted self-control shattered, like a dark flame obliterated all light that ever existed. She thought the hottest flames burned blue, but she’d been wrong. They were a black smoulder and lived in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
“It doesn’t matter? It’s the most important thing, Dez! You can’t—”
“If I have to watch you love someone else, none of it matters!”
The admission burst from him and darkened the room. She cracked open, like he’d seized both corners of her ribcage, wrenched it wide, and stole what he wanted as he warned he would.
“I can’t do it. I—I won’t do it. I won’t!” His chest shook with a breath. “Implexus bonds are nonsense. This prophecy is nonsense. I won’t watch you walk into another man’s arms when you belong in mine!”
Emmery’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched the fire in his eyes die to embers and now crackle a sad, lonely song. One she knew well. One she’d practically written herself. “Shade is out there,” she said, her voice broken.
“Then where is he?” he whispered. “If he’s so wonderful and made by the gods’ hands for you, and you two are destined, why hasn’t he come for you?”
Her stomach clenched and Emmery opened her mouth to answer, but she didn’t have one. The thought had tormented her the past few months though she refused to humour it. Maybe Shade had changed his mind. Maybe he no longer wanted her.
Destonne blinked, his eyes suddenly glossy. “Do you know the lengths I would go to if I were him? I would gladly spend my final breath searching and he’s waiting for you to find him.” He sighed, long and heavy. “It’s sad, Em. You deserve someone to fight for you.”
“It’s—that’s not … I—” Hysteria rose in her throat, and she clamped her jaw shut. Bit down until it hurt.
“What if—” His voice caught. “What if the gods are wrong?”
“They can’t be,” she said, her lips, hands, and body numb, far away and fleeing from this reality, because it was too hard, and her stuttering heart rattled in her chest like broken porcelain. “You don’t even believe in the gods. Why should I listen to anything you say?”
“Because the gods should know you deserve infinitely more. You deserve someone to take care of you,” he breathed.
“To worship you. To challenge you. To adore you.
Someone who will stay by your side when things get tough.
You deserve someone warm and solid and whole, who sees who you truly are and isn't afraid.”
Her throat burned and she tore her gaze from him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.
She wasn’t supposed to feel this torn, and yet that was her soul fractured into insignificant pieces, not enough to spare, yet too many not to be helplessly broken.
“Is he going to be that for you?” Dez cupped her cheek, and she wanted to melt into his touch as his thumb swept over her cheekbone.
“Because I would. I would do anything. I would be anything you needed. I would be your friend. Your confidant. Your strength. Your heart. Your soul. Your love.” His body pressed her into the wall.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice rough, breaking.
“Tell me I’ve not gone completely mad. Admit you feel this too, whatever this is.
There’s something here. I know there is! Tell me what you’re feeling.”