Page 3 of Bizarre Bonds
Jonah swipes his hand across his forehead, guilt still trickling off him. Is he worried that he provoked this “bond” with the attraction he admitted to me but said he couldn’t act on?
Mirage spins around, his mouth set in a stiff smile that jabs at my heart. I don’t think he’s actually happy about this development, as fond as he’s acted toward me in the past.
Having a delicious interlude in the woods is a very different thing from being constantly tied to me.
Even Raze, for all the devotion he’s shown, is feeling more uneasy than pleased. None of them wanted this.
Of course they didn’t. Even triple chocolate cake tastes awful if someone forces it down your throat.
And I’m not sure I can say I’m triple-chocolate-cake amazing no matter how thoroughly I beat my fears this morning.
I inhale deeply, dragging whatever shreds of optimism I can out of my whirling head. “I’ll try to remove it. Maybe it won’t be that hard. If I did it, I should be able to undo it, right?”
Hail taps his foot impatiently.
Rollick shakes his head. “I doubt it’d be that simple. These sorts of things rarely are.”
“Ihaveto try. It’s only fair.”
None of these men should be bound to me if they don’t want to be.
The thought sends a fleeting pang through my chest, but I dismiss it, focusing on the thump of their heartbeats. On the memory of the glow that streamed out of me.
It’s lingering in them. Can I detach it, reel the light back into me, and snap the connection at the same time? Turn the tap right off and chuck it in the trash?
I picture the glow on their chests and clench my hands as if grasping hold. With all the mental strength I have in me, I yank at the light.
Come back to me. Be a good bond. Let go of them and come back.
Nothing happens that I can sense.
When I look into the men’s faces, I can tell nothing’s changed for them either. The glowing mark shines on where Mirage has left the collar of his shirt unbuttoned.
A sensation as heavy as a ball of lard sinks into my gut.
I can’t take it back. We’re stuck like this.
2
Jonah
At the base of the steps to his private jet, Rollick claps me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. What’s a little glow? And I’ve met a lot worse beings you could be connected to, for however long it lasts.”
I force a smile. I know the demon is trying to be reassuring, but his typical coolly casual approach doesn’t do much to ease the uneasiness that’s gnawing at me. He’s already glancing off toward the horizon.
I suspect my problem is hardly the most pressing thing on his mind. It isminerather than his, after all.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
I hesitate to mention Quinn: the woman he’s been dedicated to for as long as I’ve known him, the woman who saved my life as a toddler and taught me most of what I know about using my sorcerous skills. If her health is faltering again, Rollick won’t want to have the fact rubbed in.
The demon’s tone stays breezy. “Other than one rather puzzling rift? There’s nothing to concern yourself with. I always have some concern or another to stay on top of.”
He dips his head to me in farewell and strides up the steps into the jet.
I head across the dusty ground to the sprawling stucco academy buildings that stand just ten minutes’ walk away from the small airfield. The rest of my “team” went inside as soon as we arrived, but I wanted to see Rollick off.
Maybe I was hoping he’d offer some actual advice. But I’m not really sure what kind of advice I need, so it’s hard to blame him for failing to provide it. Mentoring isn’t really the demon’s style anyway.
