Page 64 of These Eternal Bones
She got her wish only ten entries later.
The contents made me blush.
Almost more shocking are the mentions of Cartiel. Nearly every entry had his name at least once. We went for walks, had lunch together, he made light bounce between mirrors, and we’d laugh…
We were…friends. Close friends. His life before Port Clyde only made it even more confusing that he stayed. In a place built between grand marble towers and sandy shores, he was revered as a god. A true one, worshipped. He missed it, but he’d seemed happy…with me. It’s odd trying to equate the two versions of him.
The fox was allowed inside as well. Another shock. Albeit rarely and far from me, it turns out he was a ruthless flirt then, too. Elric killed him and tossed him in the woods, which I then found kind of funny. She thought them to be like brothers, fighting over their favorite toy.
Old, scary, and incredibly violent brothers.
I skip forward, most of the pages are filled with a lot of sex, feeding, more sex, and a few mentions of the bond. While nothing too specific. She can feel him through it, his emotions. She’s upset because he’s not acting like himself. He’s nervous, worried for her.
She doesn’t understand why.
You and me both.
My lips part, my tears drying and crusted to my face as I open to the end of the last diary. The words are shaky, the beautiful penmanship sloppy and rushed, the pages dotted with dried tears that smudgedthe ink. My hands shake as I brush my fingers over them, knowing without reading what I just found. A sick feeling jars with nerves and anticipation in my gut as I press my back against the hot but slowly cooling side of the claw-footed tub.
Imogen, One Hundred and Seventy-Two Years Ago
“You cannot bear it?! Tell me Elric, how am I looking upon you now? I can feel your fear, your guilt eating away at the bond. You’re worried, you don’t sleep, something is happening, and you cannot bear to tell me? But instead, inflict me with your emotions day in and day out!”
My throat burns from hours of screaming, hours of trying to make him understand. He doesn’t. He couldn’t begin to even with the ever-tugging bond tied between us. An intangible connection formed in our blood. It’d once been a comfort. It still is…only one soured by guilt, fear, worry, and an ever-present pang of grief from the man in front of me.
How can one person feel so much horror and stand tall in the face of it?
How could I have possibly ever made him smile?
It’s been almost a month since he bonded us. What started out as the most wonderful feeling, that empty space at the core of my being filled finally with so much rightness, so much love, has been polluted by the man who put it there.
His dark eyes track me as I rage through his office, always tracking. I had once thought them a comfort, a blessing. Now they scrape. Something is happening. Surely it's driving me as mad as him.
His face is the picture of stoicism, but I know better. The clever schooling of features no longer works on me. This is gutting him;Iam gutting him.
But why?
“What have I done wrong? What have I done to make you feel this way?!” I plead, my throat knotting closed before I swallow past it.
“It is not whatyouhave done, syringa.”
My mind swirls, tears coating my cheeks. We’ve been at it for hours, fordays. I think I’m losing my mind. My eyes snap toward the sharpened letter opener on his desk, steeling my jaw because you cannot reason with someone being utterly unreasonable. So, I will be unreasonable too. He doesn’t make a move. His tendrils locked, soothing my heated flesh as I jerk it off the desk.
Everything is still, so still as I bring it to my throat. My actions are ridiculous even to me. They make little sense, but it’s thebond, this horrible, lovely bond. It’s his madness leaking out into my chest, making my thoughts odd and unfamiliar. It’s the waiting for a threat I cannot understand or identify; I had never been a fearful person before but it is all I feel now.
His eyes widen, a sharp pang of agony, of terror striking the bond, nearly making my knees buckle. How could a creature, a god, be so afraid of anything? “Imogen…” he warns, “Don’t.” His voice is all growl, but I’m past the point of listening. I dig the blade into my neck, just the tip, until I can feel the warm blood well before he stops it. It only angers me more. He won’t even let mebleed. He’s in my veins, always, his tendrils snapping wildly as I take a step back. My feet nearly tangle in them, making me stumble, and they right me and retreat all at once.
I feel the loss immediately.
For as many times as I’ve forbidden him to touch me tonight, I never thought he would actually stop. It only steels my resolve. He said the bond would ruin everything. God, he was right.
Everything is ruined.
Us included.
“You will tell me now what plagues my chest, or I will cut it free.” My voice wobbles. Even so, it’s stronger than I could’ve hoped for.
Mama always said I had a flair for dramatics, for big, wild emotions. She would’ve had a field day with my mate. I’ve felt nothing as loud or crippling as what’s coming off this man.
