A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 4

Bellamy

Only God knew how, but by the time Peter and I made it down the hallway Soren had disappeared into, Soren was already dressed and leaning against a door at the far end.

Either his quarters were close or he stashed a change of clothes in a broom closet for safekeeping. I was pretty sure it was the latter.

Peter shook his head at Soren, mumbling something to himself. I wasn’t interested in what he was saying, not when Soren and I seemed to slip in a silent battle for … something.

All I knew was that we were staring at each other, and I had zero desire to blink. Or stop.

I didn’t even notice that Peter had opened the door until he said, “Excuse me,” loud enough to get my attention.

I broke eye contact first, but I could still feel Soren's gaze burning into the side of my face. My nerves seemed to light on fire in return. Not a stinging blaze, but a more mellow warmth spreading across my skin.

“Sit down, right now ,” Peter snapped at both of us, pointing his finger toward the chairs on the other side of his desk.

Even though I figured Soren made it his personal life mission to be as stubborn as possible, he listened, moving past me to slump down in a chair and crossing his massive arms across his chest. He rolled his neck, his hand coming up to grip the bulging muscle that connected his shoulder to his throat.

I’d seen photos of him in the years since he got drafted, but it would take me a while to get used to just how muscular, just how imposing he was. And figure out how to resist my stomach tightening in response.

I carefully moved toward the open chair, only to see it scrape away from me and slide as close to Soren’s chair as it could get. I looked up with drawn brows, confused what game he was trying to play, only to find him with a similarly confused look on his face, like he wasn’t aware he’d moved the chair until it already happened.

Peter let out a disbelieving laugh as I slowly sat down in the chair, dropping his head to his hands and muttering a prayer for God to give him strength. “Alright,” he said after a moment, clapping his hands together. I jumped at the sound, somehow moving close enough to Soren to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

That … calmed me.

Peter blew out a heavy breath. “Bellamy, how much do you know about the actual … mechanics of the Bond between paranimas .”

I had half a mind to snap why don’t you ask Soren? but decided against it. I breathed in, setting my spine straight. “I know that it's the strongest of the Bonds.” I snuck an uneasy look at Soren, which only confirmed the fact that he was staring at me like I was sprouting two heads.

Peter made an affirming sound and spoke, even though neither Soren nor I were looking at him. “That’s correct. There are several physical symptoms attached to the Bond that are … well, let’s say they aren’t publicized.” I recognized that Peter was speaking and was saying things that I’d never heard before, not even after the lengthy debrief I was given by the priestesses, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off Soren.

“And though refusal to make eye contact with people other than your Match is not commonly accepted as one of them.” My gaze snapped back to Peter guiltily, his sly comment hitting true. “I’d rather read them out to you for clarity’s sake.”

Peter opened his desk drawer and pulled out a file with one hand, while placing a pair of thick framed glasses on his proud nose with the other. I could feel Soren shift next to me, and I hated to admit it, but I understood the feeling.

My body felt restless, like I shouldn’t be just sitting here. Or maybe it was where I was sitting? Who knew.

A moment later, Soren’s hand slipped over the back of my chair and his fidgeting stopped for a second.

Peter pulled out a paper from the file and cleared his throat to read. “Symptoms of paranimas, or a Soul Match, include—Irritability towards perceived threats, particularly suitors ,” he said that word carefully, with a note of disgust, like it didn’t fully capture the behavior he’d seen. With each symptom he listed off, the reality of my new situation became much clearer. “Extreme protectiveness, including relating to food, health, and most notably, injuries.” Well, that would explain Soren’s reaction to my stomach earlier.

“Uncomfortability with periods of prolonged physical separation.” Peter scoffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh. “There is a note here that irritation has been recorded for periods as short as one minute.”

Great, I couldn’t get even a minute away from Soren? That would be incredibly—well, I was going to finish that thought with annoying , but that didn’t seem right.

Inconvenient, given my priorities once we got to Muli .

Peter groaned, regaining my attention. “I don’t get paid enough for this,” he grumbled. Then louder, “Other reported symptoms include—increased physical attraction, which has recorded to be painful if resisted too long.” Oh. My. God. “And in ninety-nine percent of all Matches…” Peter paused for a moment, his eyes flashing to Soren. “Permanent emotional bonding.”

I knew, I knew what that meant, but I still asked, “What does that mean?”

Soren’s heavy exhale answered. “It means falling in love.” He wasn’t looking at me, not yet. Just staring at Peter. “Finish, Peter. There’s one more.”

Peter swallowed thickly, his weathered hands tightening on the paper. “Sickness upon death of paranima .”

“ What ?” I breathed. I knew that paranimas didn’t tend to last very long after their other half’s death, but no one told me it was an inevitability.

“It means if one of us dies, the other does too. Just slow and painful,” Soren answered.

My chest felt like it was going to collapse in on itself. I thought I’d been prepared to deal with it, but this suddenly felt like something far bigger than me. Doubt crept in, telling me I couldn’t do this. I forcefully shoved it away, holding tighter to my commitment to be here.

Besides, everyone knew that once you were in this, there was no getting out.

Paranimas were a source of social fascination. The news found it charming to relay stories of someone cutting off a hand for touching their Match without permission, calling it romantic instead of brutal. The Emperor, and by proxy my family, was the first to hear when someone who died on the front lines three years ago, only for their paranima to go insane and beg for death in the weeks after.

I’d known this bond was something unique, something that would last a lifetime. I just hadn’t come to terms with the fact it would be with Soren.

“Has anyone resisted the symptoms?” I asked through gritted teeth, my jaw aching from the force.

Peter’s eyes stole to Soren for just a second, before he cleared his throat. “There has been one recorded Match to resist the symptoms. Everyone else is…”

“Disgustingly in love and discharged or dead,” Soren supplied, his tone hard.

Oh, he would rather choose death, wouldn’t he? He didn’t want this. He hated everything I stood for, and this was probably a fate worse than death to have the threat of loving me hanging over his head.

He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy about this.

“Well, consider it two recorded Matches,” I snapped, crossing my legs so that I was positioned away from Soren. I didn’t want to look at him, not until I built up enough resolve to shut out the voice screaming at me to move closer to him until our bodies were touching.

Soren laughed from beside me. “Something you want to say?” I asked, cocking my head. My hands itched with the urge to move, and I assumed they wanted to find their way around his neck and give it a nice little squeeze.

“No,” he said through a wide smile. “I just didn’t think we’d be agreeing this soon.”

“You know what,” I said, turning away from Peter and focusing my attention on Soren. Much better , a voice in my head said. “Why don’t you tell me how you see this playing out.” He was the one with all the experience, though I was pretty sure his last Match had been in the nineties.

Soren’s eyes widened just an inch, though a small smile played at his lips. “I want nothing to do with you or this Match.” Even though my mind agreed with his words, they still hit me in the chest like hot, splattering oil. “We will deal with this to the extent we have to in order to stay alive and do what we need. That’s it.”

That was interesting, the way he’d phrased that. As if there was something other than staying alive we needed to do. I didn’t think he was a particularly willing member of this war, and certainly wasn’t known to be singing the praises of our world, so there must be something on Muli that he was interested in.

If it’s a woman, find her and kill her . I jerked back, as the thought passed through my head. There was that voice again, not quite mine. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like the voice that gave me those bits of knowing from the Goddess.

Soren’s eyes narrowed, leaning forward the same distance that I’d leaned back. “What did it just say to you?”

“What?” The word was barely more than a gasp.

Soren leaned in an inch closer. “The Bond. What did it just say to you?”

“Nothing,” I bit out. I couldn't say more. My breath was seizing in my chest at the realization that he’d figured that out from just the expression on my face. I couldn’t handle someone cutting through me that easily.

Soren’s grin simply widened. “You’ll tell me. Eventually.”

I leaned towards him, getting right in his face. This close, the blue in his eyes only looked more prominent. “Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re doing. Or that I am even remotely excited about this.”

Soren’s lip curled, turning into a sneer. He moved closer, so close that for a harrowing second I thought he was going to kiss me. Then he moved closer, slipping past my lips and placing his mouth right next to my ear. His voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper when he said, “You volunteered for this.”

I inhaled sharply, though I really shouldn’t have been shocked he caught onto me so quickly. I turned my head in slightly, so that I could speak into his ear the same way he’d done to me. I was about to snap back that he had no idea what he was talking about, even though he’d just caught me red-handed.

Before I could, a sound ripped through the room.

“Ahem,” Peter coughed, and both our heads snapped towards him in confusion. My cheeks colored with embarrassment at the fact that we’d been sitting here, fucking whispering to each other. Before I could properly appreciate the shame, Peter’s eyes dropped down to somewhere below our faces.

It was then, when I tilted my head down, that I realized that at some point during our little scuffle, Soren’s hand had made its way to the hollow between my collarbones and one of my hands was twisted in his shirt.

I hadn’t even noticed the touch. Now that I did, though, it was burning like the summer sun. His touch was generating a firestorm beneath my sternum, with solar flares flashing out into every corner of my body. There was an upsetting concentration of that heat low in my stomach, which I could pay no mind to.

Not when I was ripping my hand away from Soren, shoving my chair back as far as it would go.

Peter muttered something under his breath, which I couldn’t decipher while Soren deemed it appropriate to drill his eyes into me like he was mining for gold.

After a moment Peter raised his head. “Bellamy, I recommend you get settled. We’ll have a debrief this afternoon to discuss the next week.” I nodded along with his words. “We leave for Muli in four days. I trust that is enough time to get comfortable with this arrangement?”

I would spend the rest of my life getting used to Soren, but I gave an affirmative nod regardless.

“Great,” Peter said, his lips pulling into as much of a smile as he could manage. He turned his attention to Soren. “Stay out of your room for the time being.”

Soren, despite having very obvious issues with authority, simply nodded.

It clicked then, why Peter had instructed Soren to back off for the time being. “Wait, I am not sharing a room with him.”

The thought of being trapped with him for any longer than thirty seconds made my stomach twist.

Soren scoffed, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He’d thrown on a shirt with cut off sleeves, giving me full access to the way the branches and leaves of our Mark bulged under his strong muscles. “You won’t get special treatment here, princess.”

“I’m not asking for special treatment.” I would be suffering from enough preconceived notions given my family, and they would only be perpetuated by my lovely Soul Mate. “Put me in whichever bunk is furthest away from you.”

Right as Soren’s smile widened, clearly intrigued by that idea, Peter’s voice interrupted us. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Both our heads whipped toward him at the same time. “What?” I would be ignoring that we also happened to speak at the same time, with the same inflection.

The hard set of Peter’s jaw left no room for argument, but he carried on regardless. “ Paranimas share a bunk. Base rules.” There was a silent why hanging in the room. Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Five years ago we had a pair ask for separate rooms. They kept sleepwalking towards each other. One night, one of them ran into a cleaning cart and bruised their hip.”

“And?” I asked. I’d take a bruised hip over being locked in a room with Soren any day. I’d had enough of those from taking a corner too fast to know that while painful, they were certainly less annoying than trying to go to sleep with Soren’s breathing trickling into my ear.

Peter ran his hands down his face, clearly at his wit’s end. “The other spent the next day using every cleaning cart on the base as target practice.” A sound jumped out of Soren, sounding oddly like a smothered laugh. “No risking undue injuries, not while the Bond is still fresh.”

Even while my chest twinged with panic at that statement, it wasn’t enough to completely steal my focus. I could still see how weathered Peter looked.

How tense everyone had been when I walked in.

War was weighing on everyone, and I was sure it didn’t help that a fresh-faced Royal walked in, still dressed in carefully crafted garments that struck a harsh contrast to the simple clothing soldiers were forced to wear.

I stood, folding my hands in front of my body. My posture was stick straight, my chin high. “I’ll go settle in. Thank you, General Bello.”

“Peter is fine,” the general said, looking at me with a small note of sympathy in his eyes. I didn’t imagine that was common for him, so I made sure my smile was warm in response.

I walked out, leaving my Soul Mate behind, and facing my fate.