A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 9

Bellamy

I was really freaking out. Everyone looked so calm, casually chatting with one another. Smiling, making jokes, and completely ignoring the fact we were about to launch ourselves through the fabric of space and time, relying on a fucking tattoo and a deity's promise to keep us safe.

Even the new recruits, who had made themselves very known over the last few days by either being hopelessly naive or annoyingly eager, seemed completely calm.

Muliterra was supposed to be beautiful—beautiful in a different way than anything we’d ever experienced on Vir, but surely everyone wasn’t setting aside their fear of a brutal death in the middle of space in the name of aesthetics.

I was sitting on a metal bench at the front of the sterile room, trying to keep my knee from bouncing and giving away my nerves. There were industrial, heavy duty doors in front of me that looked like they could hold back a raging flood if needed.

Maybe that was what the Bridge felt like, being swept out to sea in a tidal wave.

We’d already been locked in this room by a similar set of doors on the other side, closing us off to the last licks of our planet. It had been entirely casual, like they were simply directing us to eat in a different room for the day because the other was being cleaned.

My pack sat on the floor at my feet, holding everything that I owned. Sure, I had a fair bit of stuff back at the castle I'd once called home, but that wasn’t technically mine. It was the Empire’s, and I’d just been allowed to use it while I lived under my father's rule.

A banging sound from behind me made me jump, my back muscles pinching together painfully. I turned to find an older soldier pulling a young one up by the back of their shirt from the floor. They looked like they’d tripped.

Well shit, maybe someone else was as nervous as I was.

Right as I turned back to face the Bridge, I was assaulted by a mass of orange and reds.

I blinked, realizing that no one had thrown paint at me, it was just someone’s hair.

She was rather … difficult to look at. Not a bad thing at all, she was just striking , her beauty almost too potent for her body. I wasn’t sure what to make of her at first. It took several seconds for me to actually take in her face rather than stay shocked by the force of it.

Her features were quite elvin—her limbs long, her cheekbones high, her nose thin and straight, the line of her lip sharp against her pale skin.

It made her freckles stand out too, a smattering of soft tans and coppers across her face that matched the vibrant red of her hair.

She stuck her hand out to me with such force I thought the bone might break. The move made her bicep stand out, which spoke to a quieter strength held under her slight limbs. “Hi,” she said, a wide smile blooming over her face. “I’m Freya.”

“Bellamy,” I said, slipping my hand into hers for a quick shake. She clearly wasn’t shy, which was why I felt comfortable saying, “You haven’t been here for the last week.”

Freya’s smile only widened, a bright, wide pull of her lips that brought small creases to the corner of her sharp eyes. “Esme said I’d like you. I just got in last night.”

The tightness in my chest eased a little. I’d never really had any friends. People were too scared to get close to me for fear of my father’s wrath. I could really use some. “Where from?” I asked, making sure my smile was genuine instead of practiced.

Freya cocked her head over her shoulder.

“The Bridge?” I asked, my mouth dropping open. “I thought—”

“You were only allowed to Cross supervised?” Freya asked, her lip curving up in a grin. “For most people. I’m just special.”

A genuine laugh fell from my lips for the first time in as long as I could remember. “What did you and your Match do to earn such an honor?”

There was a second where I thought Freya’s smile fell, but it was back up so quickly I couldn’t tell if I was making it up or not. “Oh, it’s all me. This Match is only about three years old, but I’ve been doing this since I was twelve. Twenty-four now.”

Twelve years old. Good God. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared for you.”

Freya’s head tipped back with a laugh. “Both, probably. We’ll see when all the travel catches up to me. But I didn’t introduce myself to talk about me. It’s you I’m curious about.” She cocked her head as if to study me like an animal she’d never seen before.

“What would you like to know?” I asked carefully.

Freya plopped down next to me, crossing one leg over the other. “I wanted to know how you’re doing. First Cross is a big deal.”

“How obvious was I?” I really thought I’d hid my panic well.

“Not too bad,” Freya said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m good at recognizing the signs. You don’t have much to worry about. It’s not as bad as everyone says. What is it you’re worried about?”

I laughed incredulously. “The whole going to another planet thing to start.”

Freya smiled, but there was something wistful about it. “You’re a paranima . It’ll be easy for you.” She perked up again, that moment of dreaminess in her startlingly green eyes chased away. “Speaking of, where is—”

“Right here, Frey,” Soren said from behind me before swooping in and picking Freya up for a tight hug. My throat seized, feeling like someone was squeezing it with the intention to crush my trachea. When Soren set Freya down and ruffled her hair, the feeling only got worse.

“You’ve done quite well for yourself in my absence, Soren,” Freya said, looking up at him with affection, which I was sure was friendly. The Bond, however, was none too pleased. It was going off like a feral rodent in my head, gnawing through my sanity.

Soren’s hand fell to my shoulder, pushing warmth through my limbs and making the Bond calm down. Freya’s eyes tracked it, then traveled up to my face.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, then fell into a fit of laughter. “Oh, no, no, no. Oh, that’s hilarious. NO! No. Definitely not.”

Soren caught on then, a low laugh breaking from his chest. My head turned to him as if pulled by a magnet. When our eyes connected, the invisible hand released from my throat. “Freya was the first person I met when I got here. Closest thing I have to a sister now.”

I nodded, even though my ears were still buzzing. Soren leaned in, and I could feel the curve of his smile against the shell of my ear. “Glad to see you aren’t as unaffected as you’d like me to believe.”

My whole life had been a practice in acting unaffected even if there was a war raging below the surface. That training was the only reason I was able to turn slowly to him and say, “And which one of us is touching the other?”

Soren’s grin fell, his hand flying off my shoulder. It felt like a punishment, depriving me of his touch, though I was sure he didn’t intend it that way. Or maybe he did and he was just trying to get a rise out of me.

Asshole.

I turned back to Freya, forcing a pleasant expression to my face. She looked happy as a clam, sitting there watching us. “Yeah, this is going to be fun,” she said, running her tongue over her bottom teeth. “Ford and Esme are such bad sports when I try to tease them.”

“Soren,” Esme barked, appearing as if she was summoned by Freya’s words. “Go help Ford with the packs over there before I kill him.”

Soren lifted his hands in the air in a show of surrender before slowly turning and heading towards where Ford was in the corner, crouching in front of a pile of black duffels. My gaze followed Soren as he walked over, snagging for a second too long on the way his backside flexed in his pants as he walked.

When I turned back, Esme was sitting next to Freya on the bench. They were whispering to each other, which made a tinge of panic break through my chest. I’d spent so many years being talked about like I wasn’t in the room, people thinking they had leave to dissect every little aspect of my life.

It had turned me into someone who was deeply private, despite the spotlight illuminating my every move. Before the dread could fully seize me, Esme and Freya broke apart.

“We both started this really young,” Esme said, her soft brown eyes warming. She was without her jewelry today, save for one long chain that disappeared under the scoop of her shirt. Back in her more reserved, hidden identity. “But we are here for you. You can talk to us if you start freaking out.”

Freya nodded along, a happy, if not childish, smile on her face. “We’re serious. Consider us friends.”

I snuck a glance over my shoulder to make sure Soren wasn’t within earshot before I answered. “How, um—How intense is it? The Cross?” I was already hanging on by a thread around Soren, and if I felt any more connected to him I was afraid I might combust.

Just yesterday, when we’d been forced to complete what could only be described as a joint meditation focused on tapping into each other’s energies, I almost lost my mind from the force of emotion that swelled in my chest. An advantage of being paranimas was that we were more tuned into each other, able to mesh better in battle or strengthen our senses.

Esme told me half of what her and Ford were tasked with was going to inspect former battlegrounds, one of them focusing on scanning the wasteland while the other stood guard.

Freya’s eyes got that same wistful note I’d noticed earlier. “I have only ever been a parasept. It’s only a seventy percent Match, so I can’t say it's ever been intense.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t quite believe her. Despite that feeling, I turned toward Esme, hoping that she could lend some wisdom. Based on the look she was sporting, I wasn’t sure I’d get it.

Her eyes were hanging over my shoulder, surely on Ford. “First time is just … odd. But to be honest, it might be different for you. Soren didn’t reject—”

“FIVE MINUTES!” Peter’s voice rang through the room, slinging off the walls and pelting me with the realization I was a handful of seconds from being forced to do this. It also cut off what Esme was about to say.

She leaned forward and placed her hand on my knee, a kind smile on her face. “You’ll be okay. Don’t worry about the puking thing. You’re stronger than that.”

I let out a nervous chuckle, reaching down to squeeze her hand once in silent thanks. That was all I could do without trying to speak through a tight throat.

“We’ll get a drink on the other side and talk more,” Freya said, before rolling over her shoulder on the bench and popping back up with an unnatural level of grace. She skipped into the crowd and towards the back of the room, surely toward her Match.

Esme stood, though in a much more subdued fashion and headed back towards Ford. I watched as her and Soren shared a look as they swapped places, Esme heading back to the pile of duffels and her solemn and silent Soul Mate and Soren heading back to me.

There was something different about him this time, something more … serious than his normal grins and borderline unhinged humor.

“What?” I asked as he approached, unable to read his expression.

Soren ran a hand over his jaw, his eyes sweeping over me. Before I could address how thoroughly I felt the weight of his observation, he said, “Up.”

I crossed my arms over my chest in a show of petulance I’d never once exhibited before this very moment. “I’m not a child.”

The corners of Soren’s lips turned down in a frown. “Please, Bell.”

Whether it was his plea or the hoarseness in his voice that made me stand, I didn’t care to figure out. Standing, now mere inches separating our eyes, I was forced to confront the emotion swirling in the deep blue of his.

“What?” I asked again, though this time much more hesitantly.

“Just…” Soren cut himself off by wiping a hand over his mouth. “I need to do something.”

“Okay…” The Bond was telling me to just let him do what he needed. In fact, it was happy to act like a puppy flopping onto its back for any manner of stomach rubs, but I just nodded in response to the question in Soren’s eyes.

Without another word, Soren bent and picked up my pack. I opened my mouth to protest, but the Bond shut it for me. He didn’t unzip the main compartment that held my clothes and my personal items, but he systematically checked the side pockets.

He spent extra care looking at the steel water bottle, the utility knife, the dried packets of food, and the other survival tools I’d been politely commanded to bring with me. He checked the straps of my bag, seemingly satisfied when the knots looked healthy and strong.

Then Soren turned his attention back to me and my heart lurched into my throat. He couldn’t think to—

Oh, he was.

Soren’s hands fell to the holster looped around my shoulders, pulling the leather flat against my skin so it didn’t dig in and irritate me. He pulled out my firearm and checked the safety, then the ammunition, and moved onto the backups stored in the other side of the holster.

Oh, God help me, I knew where this was going and there was no way I was going to fight the blush building on my cheeks.

I could do nothing but stare shamelessly at Soren as he meticulously worked his way down my body and everything strapped to it. When he descended to his knees in front of me, I almost collapsed.

Maybe I would have, if his hands didn’t go to my waist, where my thigh holster was secured and looped through the belt of my tactical pants. He did the same thing as he had to my shoulders, flattening the leather to my body. Except this time, he lifted the edge of my shirt, running his hand under the material and over the expanse of my lower stomach, before making sure it was secured under the band of my pants.

I hoped he was too focused on his task to notice that goosebumps erupted all over my body, like my flesh was rising to meet his touch.

“Soren,” I said, not even realizing I’d spoken his name until it fell from my lips.

He didn’t look up as he responded, “Just let me.”

My hand moved to his shoulder, needing to brace myself and his hands traced slowly to my right leg, where two knives were strapped. His shoulder was warm and strong under my touch, and as the feeling licked up my arm and across my chest, my lingering fear was replaced with an entirely different sort of anticipation.

I couldn’t tell if he was intentionally dragging his hands over more of my body than he needed to, but I didn’t care. The Bond was mewling like a cat, shamelessly pressing their face against a petting hand.

He set one hand on the inner half of my thigh and breath fled my lungs so fast I was scared I was going to pass out. Soren’s hand anchored me as he used the other to check the strap looping my thigh and make sure the knives were well secured.

The hand on my thigh didn’t move as Soren checked the pockets on the side of my pants, stuffed with more materials I’d need to survive in the forest if I got separated from the group and my pack.

While his attention was focused, his body seemed to take on a mind of its own. His thumb started slowly caressing my inner thigh, small sweeps that sent lightning shooting up my legs and pooling in my core.

It took everything in me not to flinch, not from distaste but from the sheer inability to keep still while he tortured me.

He’s an asshole. You don’t like each other. You are keeping secrets he’ll kill you for , I tried to remind myself. The Bond simply swatted those thoughts away, much happier basking in Soren’s attention.

When Soren sat back on his heels, done with his inspection, I almost made a sound of protest. I smothered it at the last minute, only for his head to rise and his eyes to connect with mine and make my control over my body flee entirely.

He looked different, kneeling in front of me. I was so used to him crowding me, his large body folding over mine. When I wasn’t so distracted by how I felt in the shadow of his mass, I was forced to appreciate truly how beautiful he was.

Details I hadn’t noticed before, like the dark, isolated freckles over his lip, his brow, his left cheek. How he had annoyingly dark lashes despite the almost white-blonde of his hair.

I’d once thought his nose was perfectly straight, but now I was noticing a slight bump that signaled a previous break.

That thought sobered me up, reminded me that he would never have been hurt, would never have suffered all he did if it wasn’t for my family.

We were responsible for his enlistment, my father’s greed and obsession with becoming Emperor latching onto any perceived threat, and orchestrating Soren's enlistment.

Soren used me as a target for his rage, maybe rightfully so.

“Satisfied?” I asked, trying to keep my voice entirely passive. The lack of emotion would irritate Soren more than anger would.

It worked. Soren’s eyes cleared of that distracted haze and he popped up to stand, forcing me to remember how imposing he was. “If you die from something stupid and you make me follow you, I can’t do what I need to.”

“I think I’ve demonstrated that stupidity isn’t the issue,” I returned, getting right in his face as I said it. I was normally incredibly composed in the face of anger, but Soren just had a way of getting to me.

“For the love of God, Bell,” Soren snapped, stepping closer to me. “It’s going to drive me crazy if you don’t appease it.”

Oh. I kept forgetting that the Bond spoke to him, too.

That took the wind out of my anger sails quite quickly. “I can’t account for every threat,” I said softly. “But I’m better prepared than most.”

That was the most I could give him or the Bond for now. I would be putting myself in dangerous situations, but I didn’t need to tell him that. In a perfect world, he’d never even know.

Soren blew out a heavy breath, nodding to himself. I could almost hear him bargaining with the Bond, telling it I told you she’s fine.

An unwanted swell of emotion entered my chest, but the warmth building there was quickly cut off by the sound of an alarm.

It was time.

Soren’s hand clamped over mine right as a fresh wave of panic overtook me. “We go first.”

As paranimas , I’d assumed we would. I followed Soren as he walked us to the front of the room, close to the heavy metal doors. There was a queue forming, each Match falling into line. In order, I’d guess.

I spotted Freya at the very back of the room, standing next to a shorter young man with close cropped black hair. His gaze was on the floor, and he looked incredibly dim compared to Freya’s light. That struck me as an odd pairing, but I guess parasepts wouldn't be obviously compatible.

My gaze was pulled back to the front of the room as Ford and Esme stepped in front of us. You could tell how practiced they were at this. Even with their disjointed Bond, they worked seamlessly in this aspect at least.

Ford dropped Esme’s pack in front of her feet, and she casually handed him a firearm. As he tucked it in his shoulder holster, Esme bent down and closed the zipper on his pack all the way.

Soren’s hand squeezed mine, as if telling me he saw the same thing.

“Alright,” Peter’s voice rang through the hall, quieting the lingering conversations. “You know the drill. Step through hand in hand. It’ll be bright on the flip side so prepare yourself. Buckets on either side if you get sick.”

With zero fanfare, the doors started opening, letting in a light so bright it looked like a million different colors thrown together and bouncing off each other with such force they started sparking.

My hand tightened on Soren’s reflexively, needing to anchor myself to something.

Ford and Esme stepped through, joining their hands at the last possible second, like it was as easy as stepping over the threshold of a home.

As they disappeared into the light, Soren and I were ushered forward. My breath was stuttering in my lungs, and I could feel panic rising.

“Look at me,” Soren’s voice came from next to me.

I was too scared to fight him. I turned, finding his eyes immediately.

He nodded once. I matched it.

And then we stepped forward together, leaving our planet behind.