A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 15

Bellamy

The Bond took over, slamming into the forefront of my consciousness and ripping the control of my body from me.

I jumped in front of Soren, pressing my hands to his shoulders to stop him from moving any further than he had. He almost took me down, before he realized it was me standing there.

His hands curled around my biceps, holding me to him tightly. Once I was sure that he would stay still, though he was still raking in heavy, angry breaths, I turned in his arms. He let me, simply rotating his grip. In fact, his hold hardened like he was using me as a shield.

He hurt him. Kill him. The Bond said, still in such control I took a step away from Soren in submission, my hand removing my knife from its holster at my thigh. If his hold hadn’t stopped me, I probably would have made it as far as drawing the knife to his throat.

The Bond was still thrashing with pain, twisting and bending in unnatural angles in my head.

Because Carson, Soren’s former Match, was standing with Elijah’s men.

The room had fallen silent again, because now it was the Vir soldiers who knew the history of the man standing before us.

“Soren,” Carson said, too little emotion on his face to make this even remotely okay.

Soren remained silent behind me, his chest hitting my back every few seconds with a heavy breath.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Esme sneered as she hauled herself onto the bar and reached around to grab another bottle.

“Missed you, too, Esme,” Carson said, smiling. Esme’s lip curled into an expression of disgust as she flipped him off. Ford didn’t so much as cast Carson a second glance as he joined Esme at the bar and took the bottle to top off his glass.

Elijah, meanwhile, was basking in the silence and tension. He seemed rather full of himself. I had no choice but to work with him if he was my best connection to the Prince, but that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. Especially when he seemed to revel in other people’s discomfort. “Maybe introductions are redundant where Carson here is concerned. Though, I suppose his new title may need to be clarified.”

“Traitor,” Ford growled behind a sip of whiskey.

Elijah’s smile only widened. “He’s—”

“I want to hear it from him,” Soren said, his voice more cutting then I’d ever heard it.

Carson held eye contact with Soren over my shoulder as he stood taller and answered, “Captain. Muli Special Unit.”

I could have sworn I heard Soren’s chest crack under the weight of that betrayal. Anger spilled into my limbs, so hot and potent, it let the Bond take over again.

It seemed that it drew on my darkest impulses, the ones that were kept suppressed from a lifetime of holding to decorum.

Without the pressure of my family, I could let the Bond unleash them. Flipping the knife in my hand, I threw it upwards in a diagonal arc, watching happily as it slashed through the air right next to Carson’s head and embedded itself in one of the beams supporting the ceiling.

Carson looked behind him with raised eyebrows, as if needing to confirm that I’d actually done that. “You seem fine,” was all he had to say to Soren. “You and Bellamy are well-matched.”

“Don’t act like you did something noble by getting out of the way,” I snapped, my hand itching to pull out another knife. You could only have one Match at a time, with most people only finding a new one after their previous Match had died. Some pairs parted amicably, when someone was discharged from duty.

But even if that didn't happen, a Soul Match would nullify another other partnership before it. Nothing could get in the way of your Soul Mate.

“Now, princess, don’t lie,” Soren’s voice slid down my spine in a heated wave of sound. “Carson clearly did us a favor by fucking off to the other side. Pity it was the wrong choice of allegiance.”

“You don’t know anything, Soren,” Carson defended, and I hated that he had a point. I had a hunch what his motivations for defecting were, but he didn’t need to run out on Soren without explanation.

You’re omitting the truth. It’s no different . The Bond said, grumbling.

“You don’t get to stand beside vague truths to defend yourself,” Soren snapped back. “Either have the courage to tell me exactly what happened or don’t blame me for holding a grudge. Pick.”

Carson’s eyes softened then, as if he was just remembering who Soren was to him before I came into the picture. They were as close as brothers for six years. That relationship just didn’t end overnight, no matter how deep the betrayal.

Carson opened his mouth, about to defend, before Elijah held up a hand, cutting him off before he could even get a word out.

The power Elijah held over him became crystal clear then. Soren scoffed, stepping away from me to rip the bottle from Esme’s hand and take a deep swig. Carson slid Elijah a disgruntled look, one that Elijah simply returned with a raised eyebrow.

Whatever silent communication passed between them, it gave Carson permission to attempt to approach Soren. He stepped toward him quickly, almost like a little boy chasing after his friend on the playground after almost tripping him. “Soren, I’m—”

“Take one more step, and I’m smacking you across the face with my pistol,” Soren said, his hands curling over the wood of the bar. I didn’t want to interfere, but the Bond was screaming at me that Soren was in danger and needed my help.

It was like I could feel his anguish as strongly as if it was pumping through my own veins, the force of it almost suffocating me. I could easily resort to violence and sarcasm like I had before. That felt easier somehow, more impersonal.

My darker desires were telling me to turn to him and run my hand down his back in a comforting stroke. Pull him into a tight hug so he couldn’t focus on anything else but me. Kiss him, bringing him closer than anyone else.

But that wasn’t what we agreed to. It wasn’t what I was supposed to do.

I kicked my foot up, reaching for the knife tucked into my boot with my third and fourth finger, using my thumb and pointer finger to make sure the tightly rolled piece of paper was still adhered to the weapon.

I pulled it into my hand, obscuring the paper, right as Carson took another step towards Soren.

Bad idea, the Bond said, right as Soren laughed incredulously and pulled out his gun, pointing it right at Carson’s head.

In a flash, half of Elijah’s men had weapons pointing at Soren. I heard the distinct rustle and clashing of limbs and guns through the rest of the room, knowing there was a domino effect of weapons drawn between Vir and Muli through the rest of the room.

The only people who remained defenseless were Ford and Esme. Well, I wasn’t sure either of them could be seen as completely defenseless when there was glass around them. I was sure Ford could make nasty work out of a broken bottle.

Taking my chances, I walked forward to interrupt. Soren would be less inclined to pull the trigger if I was standing there. I got in the middle of him and Carson, lifting my knife up to carefully push Soren’s gun away from Carson’s face.

“I don’t think killing him is a good idea,” I said to Soren. He was looking down to where my knife was pressed to his gun, so I had to bend down to grab hold of his eyes. When I did, I saw so much pain and betrayal there I was tempted to abandon all reason and slash through Carson’s face.

Soren blinked, some of that rage clearing. Then his lip curled into a pout. “You don’t let me have any fun.”

A smile broke across my face before I could stop it. “Apologies, darling.”

Soren’s nostrils flared slightly, his eyes taking on a dark blue I hadn’t seen from him. To ignore the way that made my chest constrict, I turned to Carson. I drew my blade back up to him, tracing the perimeter of his face with my knife.

To others, it probably looked like I’d lost my damn mind, resorting to some cruel version of myself. Leaning into it, I brought the hilt of the knife right to the opening of his shirt, making sure the blade was close enough to his skin to scare, but not enough to actually cut.

Slowly, I drew the hilt down and away, making the piece of paper drop down his shirt. Carson’s eyes widened ever so slightly when he felt it, but I cut him off by saying, “I suggest you stay far away from Soren. Next time I see you, I might not be as forgiving.”

Carson swallowed thickly, and it wasn’t until then that I realized how deadly serious I sounded.

The Bond had all but taken over my voice again, ringing with power.

Soren’s hand slipped around my midriff, settling low on my stomach. He pulled me back with a soft tug, dragging me away from Carson and to his chest.

Heat started building with concerning force, pooling in every place where Soren’s hard body pressed into mine. There was also some burgeoning hardness building at my lower back, right where his hips were, but that was not something I could focus any energy on, because it made me want to do something really stupid.

How I was possibly expected to sleep in the same bed as him tonight, I had no idea.

“Enough with the threats, princess,” Soren said in my ear. He pressed closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “No matter how much they are turning me on.”

Swallowing was painful, like dragging limbs over gravel.

No one was dropping their guns, even though the initial threat was gone. Now that I had a better view of the pub, there were too many people who looked frazzled and trigger happy for my liking.

Right as I was about to tell everyone to calm down, the bartender walked out from a back room and yelled, “HEY! No guns in my bar!”

Everyone complied immediately in a flurry of muttered sorry s, more concerned with having a place to drink and relax than anything else.

My chest eased slightly, which made my grip on Soren’s arm loosen. I hadn’t even realized I’d folded my arm over his until his skin gave way under my fingers.

I didn’t know what to say next, considering how out of control this conversation had gone. One thing I did know, was that Elijah was very dangerous.

Dangerous enough that he might be the only one capable of accomplishing what needed to be done.

Someone scurried in from outside, blissfully missing the drama. She came right up to Elijah, whispering something in his ear.

His face twitched, before resetting in a passive expression. He straightened, nodding once at me. “If you’ll excuse me, my steed has been rather unpredictable as of late. I trust we’ll be able to continue this conversation?”

I wasn’t sure what conversation he was referring to, but the likelihood he’d seen what I’d slipped into Carson’s shirt was high.

I nodded, even though the thought of what I’d just set in motion terrified me.

Elijah turned on his heel, walking out of the bar with long strides, drawing his soldiers behind him in a single line.

Carson was the last to turn, his face waging a war between emotion and stoicism. He clearly favored the latter, because without another word to Soren, he followed Elijah, choosing Muli once more.

“Well, that was interesting,” Esme said, tipping her head to throw back a glass of whiskey while I tried to wrap my head around what the hell just happened.

?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I feel like you should.”

“Which part?” Soren asked, his voice sliding over my skin in the dark of our room. The first night in this bed, and it was already exactly as terrible as I imagined it would be.

After Elijah and Carson had left the bar, taking a good chunk of Muli soldiers with them, Esme had gently suggested we head back to camp.

I had no problem with that, especially since my heart was racing so fast I felt like I was going to pass out. Or maul Soren in some capacity. Neither seemed productive.

The ride back to camp was silent, if not a little frustrating. Lucky and Clover kept fighting the reins, Lucky trying to bite up small wildflowers and shove them in Clover’s mouth.

If I wasn’t still thinking about the look on Soren’s face when Carson walked into that bar, I might have let myself acknowledge how cute that was.

“You know which part,” I said, staring at the ceiling so I wouldn’t have to look at Soren. I swear, he was like a furnace. I had the urge to cool him down. Preferably with my body.

YES! The Bond shouted happily.

“Actually, I don’t,” Soren drawled. I could hear him turn over to look at me, but I refused to match his movements.

“Soren.” If I wasn’t in bed, I probably would have stomped my foot in frustration.

His low, answering laugh skated straight over my limbs. “I’d love to talk about the part where you threatened him. I have a feeling that will be replayed quite often in my head.”

“Be serious,” I said, grateful that the dark obscured my smile. “It must have been a shock seeing him.”

Soren grumbled, and I turned over to face him as if the sound forced me to. “I cannot fathom what made him defect. Or if he didn’t defect and he was a spy, God only knows how that happened.”

I swallowed the truth, or at least what I suspected to be the truth. “I don’t know. If he did defect, he might have had a good reason.”

“Not one good enough to justify sneaking off in the middle of the night. I thought he died.” My eyes were adjusting to the light and I could see the way Soren’s brow fell recalling the memory.

My heart broke a little bit, making me slightly bloodthirsty along with it. “You wouldn’t have gotten sick?”

Soren shook his head and our faces were so close together I could feel the air move around us. “I’d only get sick if you di—” He cut himself off, as if he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

The concept of him getting sick at all was terrifying enough to understand that. Breathing started to hurt all of the sudden, and the only rational solution my mind could come up with was to press closer to Soren and let him fix it.

Soren turned onto his back with a huff, expelling a heavy breath that sounded like it carried much more than just frustration with Carson behind it. “There’s too much going on to deal with this.”

“What is it?” I asked, staring at the way the soft moonlight coming through the window highlighted his profile. Something stronger than the Bond tickled the back of my mind.

Soren’s hand dragged down his face, then settled on my knee, curled up in between us. Blood rushed to the point of contact, pulsing through my veins with urgency. “You were going to figure it out tomorrow, but shit started to get weird this past year. Before that, the war felt predictable. We’d push forward and take over a Muli camp. They’d recover and hit back. We’d reformulate a plan and try another stronghold. Send spies out to see what else was weak, anything we could do to drain their resources. It was always a push and pull, keeping them away from the Bridge so they couldn’t sneak through and start invading Vir.”

Defending against Muli’s plans to invade Vir and take it over as another conquest. “And now?”

Soren shook his head, his thumb passing over my skin in comforting strokes. “It feels like they’re toying with us. Abandoning posts that were a strategic stronghold for them. The Generals back on Vir keep pushing us to take advantage of that, but Peter has been resisting. It feels too much like a trap.”

“It might be,” I hedged. If Muli was figuring out a way to end this war once and for all, to send Vir soldiers back to their planet, then it was just confirmation that I’d done the right thing in slipping a copy of the letters my father held to Carson. Muli needed to know that these soldiers weren’t culpable, weren’t deserving of a brutal military advance that cost everyone their lives just because the leadership in Vir was lying to everyone.

Soren nodded, but the movement was slow, if not a little resigned.

“We should go to sleep,” I said, even though I didn’t feel remotely tired. Soren nodded again, his thumb making another pass over my knee. He was clearly exhausted, either from the Cross or seeing Carson or both.

In seconds, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed.

I stayed awake for several more hours, watching him sleep and wondering how the hell I was supposed to keep secrets from him for much longer when he was the only person I really trusted.

That realization was shocking enough to interrupt the little sleep I did manage.