A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 6

Soren

“Go take a shower,” were the first words I said to Bellamy when the door closed behind us, shutting us away. Alone.

I’d been able to manage it around other people, to focus on the other smells that could serve as a distraction. But alone, in a room that was kept surgically clean, there was nothing to distract me from the fact that the scent of her skin—or her hair or perfume or whatever it was—was making me violent.

I’d planned to take this time to ask her what the fuck she was doing here, but I wouldn’t be able to if I was restraining the urge to bury my face in her neck.

“Excuse me?” Bellamy snapped, whipping around to face me. Well, that was no good. She’d moved so fast she created a slight wind that slapped me across the face with that musky, warm scent.

My hands twitched at my side. Maybe I should sneak out and head to the range, work off a bit of energy.

“Go take a shower,” I repeated, the words pushed through clenched teeth.

Bellamy huffed, not unlike a dragon blowing smoke from its snout. She took another deep breath, like she was restraining the urge to launch herself at me.

I kind of hoped she would, imagining what it would feel like for her too-delicate hands to wrap around my neck, how it would feel for her to push me back into the wall, finally showing some emotion other than her carefully planned responses and sterile smiles.

“I really think you need to rephrase that statement,” Bellamy said, and despite the calm, steady way she spoke, I could tell she was suppressing rage and the urge to shriek at me. That thought landed with a concerning lack of annoyance.

“Woah there, princess,” I said, wrapping my hands around her wrists to steady her. Electricity shot up my forearms, making me grip her harder. Almost like my body was scared someone was going to take her away from me.

“Tell me to take a shower one more time and I will actually kill you in your sleep,” Bellamy said, her eyes narrowing while she focused on my jaw. There we go, I thought to myself. That was much better than her careful diplomacy.

I made myself keep a straight face, even though that sliver of rage made me want to smile. “I didn’t know you had this side to you. Where did the prim and proper Bell I know go?” I didn’t really know her anymore, not with six formative years separating the last time I saw her, but that was besides the point.

“Squashed,” Bellamy gritted out, trying to twist out of my hold. Unfortunately for both of us, the Bond didn’t understand that she was just resisting that one touch. All it understood was that she was trying to get away from me.

NO , the Bond bellowed, sending a deep, irresistible urge to throw her over my shoulder so that she couldn’t flee along with it.

I had to commit the lesser of two evils. I disarmed her quickly, twisting her arms behind her back and yanking her towards me so she couldn’t wiggle away. I was too smart to get myself into another precarious situation, so I kept her close, but still several inches away from my body.

Far enough to prevent a … reaction.

Focusing on positioning Bellamy stole an inch too much of my focus, because in a flash, she dug her nails into my skin, shoved her elbow into my midriff, and hooked her foot around my knee to break my stance.

I let her go, my hands already raised in surrender. “Understood, Bell.”

She turned around to face me again, dark hair wild and brown eyes blazing. She looked different like this, when her hair wasn’t pulled back in that simple, neat style I was so used to seeing on the news.

After a second where I was sure her hands were going to find their way around my neck, she seemed to regain her composure. I could see the way she wrestled herself back under control.

It started with her posture, going back to that stiff, straight line. Then her soft, close-lipped smile, perfect and emotionless. Her eyes were the last to calm down, emotion slipping out of them like water going down a drain.

Curiosity burned my chest, wanting—no, needing—to figure out what it took to truly steal her control. I wouldn’t get the chance if I was the first one to lose it. If I wanted to know, I needed to move carefully, without spooking her.

With my hands still raised, I said carefully, “I’m offering you the shower first. That is not me telling you that you need it.” She really did, or else I might maul her.

Bellamy breathed in, just one careful rise and fall of her chest. I wouldn’t be shocked if she was aware of and controlled every breath she took. “Thank you,” she finally said graciously, before turning away from me.

I watched her walk towards the small hallway that doubled as a closet on either side before it opened up into the en suite bathroom. I moved over to the edge of the bed to undo the laces on my boots, and noticed that someone on the cleaning staff must have thought they were a fucking comic.

Why hadn’t Bellamy mentioned something? She’d been in here earlier to change. If it was me, I would have walked out screaming my head off about this.

Someone had the bright idea to push the two thin beds together to make one, larger bed. When it was Carson and I sharing the room, they were oriented in an L-shape to make the room look bigger.

I looked up to find Bellamy reaching into a small duffel bag and pulling out a case of toiletries. She clearly heeded the warning she was given well. We were only allowed to bring whatever personal items fit in a backpack or small case. It was on us to carry it across the Bridge.

“We can move the beds apart,” I said, my throat feeling scratchy.

Bellamy’s eyes slid to me for a second, but the rest of her body didn’t turn. “It’s fine.”

“What?” I asked, sure I was hearing her wrong.

This time, she turned to me, leaning against the lip of the closet. “I assume it’s important we both sleep well tonight?”

I nodded, fighting a groan.

“Let’s call it six hours of sleep,” Bellamy said. “I’m going to guess the Bond won’t be happy with that many hours apart.”

“We’d be in the same room,” I argued, if not for some semblance of self preservation.

Bellamy breathed in, her blinks stuttering for a second. “No, no I don’t think that’s enough.”

“What did you just do?” I asked. It looked like she’d just consulted the Bond for permission.

Bellamy shrugged one shoulder. “It is quite vocal if you just listen to it.”

I have been. It’s been screaming at me to run away with you all day. That wouldn’t do any good to say out loud, so I went with, “I hear it.”

Bellamy nodded, just one dip of her softly pointed chin. “I’d rather sleep through the night. We can build a pillow wall if that makes you more comfortable.”

A shocked laugh jumped out of me before I could stop it. “Go take a shower, princess,” I said, both to tease her a little more and to deflect. She’d told me to listen to the Bond, and it was currently telling me that if I attempted to put pillows in between us, we’d wake up to a feather massacre in the morning.

The corner of Bellamy’s mouth jumped up, the closest thing to a real smile I’d seen from her. If anyone was going to figure out how to get her to drop that sterile, practiced smile it was going to be me. Even if the only way to do it was to get her to scream at me.

After grabbing some clothes from her bag, Bellamy walked into the bathroom and slid the door shut behind her. Seconds later, the shower turned on and breath fled my body.

My elbows dropped to my knees, my hands dragged down my face, my boots forgotten.

This was such a fucking mess.

I thought I would at least be prepared for this—or more prepared than Bell—having experienced a Match before. But with Carson … it wasn’t like this. When we met at eighteen, we’d just fallen into a brotherly dynamic, immediately trusting and relying on one another despite the fact that we’d both grown up in situations that made us hesitant to trust at all.

With Bellamy … it was none of that. I felt rattled, like I was on a horse that got spooked and taken off in a gallop and there was little I could do but hold on to the reins for dear life.

And the … attraction. That was new. Maybe the worst part.

Bellamy had always been beautiful. Too young for me to really appreciate before, but now … God, she was perfect.

Even when she was constraining herself to that perfectly poised, well-mannered version of herself, she was breathtaking. Maybe the Bond was messing with my head or something, but the thought had already cemented.

I’d joked about it just to get a rise out of her, but it was the truth. There were only two options for my future now—be with her or no one else.

With everything going on … it would be solitude. And a hell of a fight keeping my hands off her.

Water slapped against the porcelain floor from the shower, which only served to remind me that Bellamy was in there. Naked.

I bent over to pull my boots off, hoping that would distract me. That worked for about twenty seconds before I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin again.

Fuck it, might as well pack early. God only knew how much shit they would make me do over the next few days.

And how much time I’d have to spend teaching Bellamy how to—

Yep, packing time.

Throwing my bag together for the Cross, even though I had it down to a science by now, got me through the sounds of hearing the shower turn off, Bellamy rifling through her bag, and her opening the door back up.

“Oh!” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest when she realized how close I was.

“Close quarters, princess,” I said, letting my lips curve into a grin. “Get used to it.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows pinched together for a second before releasing. She wasn’t wearing any makeup now, not that it was all that noticeable before, but her eyes were more expressive when I wasn’t getting distracted by how bright they looked contrasted against her black lashes. “I—”

“Was that you getting mad?” I asked, leaning closer.

“What?”

I lifted my finger, hovering it an inch over her skin as I gestured to the space between her brows. “That little thing you did. Was that you getting mad then restraining it?”

Bellamy breathed in, her still-slick chest heaving. I would not be looking any lower to see what pajamas meant to her. “Irritated,” she answered through gritted teeth.

“Good to know,” I said, breezing past her into the bathroom while she stared at me with a slack jaw.

Right as I turned to shut the door between us, satisfied smile plastered firmly on my face, I caught sight of her somewhat plain, yet painfully tight, shorts and tank and slammed the door so fast I almost took my fingers off.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

?

“Are you always this hot?” Bellamy said, exasperation clear in her voice as she rolled around in bed, trying to get comfortable.

I didn’t think anyone could make the universal experience of flopping around in bed for a comfortable spot look graceful, but she managed it. She rolled onto her back, which made her leg brush against mine.

I flinched back. “Are you always this fucking frigid?” I mean goddamn, she felt like ice.

Fix that. Not healthy, the Bond barked at me.

“Thank you,” Bellamy said calmly.

“What?”

“You called me frigid.” She turned onto her side to look at me. Her hair slipped over her bare shoulder and I had the urge to run out the door. “I assume that was a compliment?”

Oh, people called her cold, and to her face it seemed. That was the only explanation for the way she effortlessly teased me back. “It was not when you feel like a goddamn icicle.” The colder she was, the more I had the urge to warm her.

I turned over, facing the wall, to preserve just a shred of my remaining sanity. Not that I had much left when she’d arrived.

Just then, Bellamy’s perfectly elegant finger needled me in the back. That little action wouldn’t have shocked me from anyone else, but for her it seemed so … childish compared to her normal composure. I got immense satisfaction from drawing out that side of her. “Give it time,” she said, her voice soft in the quiet of the room. “You’ll melt me.”

God, I hoped so. Even though it was an obvious jab at the heat she complained was wafting off my body, her polite, regal tone made it seem like a compliment.

“This isn’t working,” I grumbled into the dark. There was no way I was sleeping a fucking wink with her next to me, that scent burrowing up my nose. Only a saint could survive this, and I was the furthest thing from one.

“I can build the pillow wall,” Bellamy offered.

Fuck that. “No.”

“But it—”

“No.” That was the end of conversation on that. There would be no pillow massacre happening tonight.

“Your funeral,” Bellamy grumbled and I had to be thankful for the dark, because it hid my smile. Her slim throat wasn’t meant to make that rough of a sound.

She went back to gracefully moving around the bed trying to find a comfortable spot, and each time she shifted against the covers, reminding me that we were laying next to each other in a bed, I was growing more and more agitated, my control slipping further and further out of reach.

“Stop wiggling around,” I half begged, not above pleading with her to make the torture stop.

“I’m trying to get comfortable,” Bellamy argued. She would be trying all night at this rate.

“Just…stop.” Bellamy listened, sinking back into the mattress. The thing was old and wearing, but I’d gotten used to it. She probably had her bed fluffed every morning. “Let me try something.” After an affirmative sound from Bellamy, I turned toward her.

Our eyes had adjusted in the dark, so I motioned for her to turn around with my finger. After a skeptical look in my direction, she turned to face the other wall, leaving her back bare to me.

In the cut of her pajamas, I could see our Mark clear as day, the branches and leaves delicately inked into her skin. I felt no small amount of satisfaction about how big it was. At least some part of it would be visible in any shirt, the edges curling around her shoulders peeking out of her neckline.

Once Bellamy was turned, I carefully inched closer, making sure there was enough of the duvet piled up in between my hips and hers. I flattened my hand across her stomach, which made her breath whoosh out of her.

“All good?” I asked.

She only hummed in response.

I hooked my leg outside the blankets and over hers, then pulled her into my chest. Enough of my body was touching hers to compensate for her chill, but not enough that she’d overheat. Her legs, the coldest part of her, were covered, while the comforting coolness of her back was pressed to my chest.

She made an odd sound once I was fully settled.

“What?” I asked, making sure she wasn’t choking on something.

Bellamy stayed quiet a moment before saying, “This is fine.”

She sounded too reluctant for my liking. “I’ll move.”

“Don’t,” she said quickly, the word barely audible.

My lips curved into a grin, my grip tightening ever so slightly. “You know it won’t kill you to admit you like this, princess.”

“I think I’ll pass, thank you,” she said, though it sounded like her throat was tight.

“So proper,” I teased. Even in her disagreement, she was so polite. It had been years since I’d broken free of those expectations.

Bellamy’s elbow found its way into my ribs. There we go, she was already shedding those norms. Though I didn’t think she’d truly be herself if she abandoned them completely. I just wanted to see her a little ruffled. “I look forward to seeing you all messed up.”

Bellamy made a disgruntled sound. “You have already seen me more unkempt than most.”

“Who the fu —” I cut off that instinctual reaction, forcing myself to loosen my hold on her and smooth my tone. “I doubt it. You had what—one hundred staff members assigned just to you?”

Bellamy hummed again, and if that was going to be her universal signal for yes from now on we were going to have a massive fucking problem. “And not one of them saw me as anything other than perfect.”

The way she said that, with a slightly thin, reserved tone exposed more than I think she even realized. Clearly, a lot had happened in the past six years to turn that bright, wild girl I left behind into the stoic, careful woman who lay curled against me. “Great, so just past lovers then,” I responded, the words slipping out with a growl before I could stop them. I really, really hoped she was never called home for anything.

Of course, I would be going with her. And then someone would probably end up without their hands.

“Do you honestly believe that was allowed?” Bellamy asked, ending her question with a disbelieving chuckle.

No, probably not. Not for the Empire’s prized jewel. I couldn't remember how many times I'd watched the news, saw her standing with her family in all their adorned glory and got so angry that I had to go to the gym and pretend the punching bag had her father's face plastered on it. But now, with her literally in my arms, the object of my rage still felt far away. “I bet you learned how to sneak behind their backs.”

“That stopped when—” Bellamy cut herself off quickly, and I could hear the sound of her thick swallow. “Excuse me, I almost misspoke.”

Her omission grated, but this was neither the time or place to peel back her layers and uncover all her secrets. Against every instinct, I pulled her tighter to my body and whispered, “Good night, princess.”

“Goodnight, Soren,” Bellamy said, her voice following me into sleep.