Page 58 of Burdened Bonds
Inside the place is a mess. It’s clear someone did try to burn the place down and failed, or perhaps they lit a fire that got out of control. The living room is a charred mess, nothing having survived the flames. The rest of the place,though trashed, has fared slightly better. Winnie disappears up the staircase and I find Azlan standing in the kitchen, cans, boxes and packets strewn all over the floor.
“She was here,” he says with certainty.
“How can you tell?”
“Her scent.”
I shake my head, disappointed. “She came back here a few weeks ago, remember?”
“No,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a renewed hope. “It was more recent than that.” He closes his eyes and inhales, his broad chest expanding as he sucks in the air. “Only a few days ago. She can’t be far from here, Phoenix.”
I scoff. “Azlan, she’s with Barone. He could have taken her anywhere he wanted.”
My friend’s shoulders sink in disappointment. As he opens his eyes, Winnie enters the kitchen.
“Anything?” I ask her.
“It looks like someone was staying in her bedroom. The bed looks slept in.”
“Azlan thinks she was here a few days ago. But she’s gone now. And where …” I trail off.
“Shit,” Winnie says, the first time I think I’ve ever heard miss-goodie-two-shoes curse. She up-rights one of the toppled kitchen chairs and sinks down onto it, pulling a jar filled with herbs towards her and shaking them in her hands. “We must be missing something. There must be a way to find her. You’re fated mates for goodness’ sake.” She slams the jar back down on the tabletop. It skids along the surface, toppling over and rolling towards the edge. I catch it before it falls off the table and place it down more carefully on the top.
“Tambric spice,” I say, “wouldn’t want that exploding into the air.”
“Tambric spice?” Winnie says, her eyes leaping to mine, then the jar and then back to mine again.
“Yeah,” I say. “One of the foster dads I stayed with used to rub it into our skin if we,” I scowl, “misbehaved.”
Winnie winces. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” I say, eyeing the content of the jar with disgust.
“But it can be used for other stuff too, right? I’m sure I read …” She pulls out her phone from her pocket, then curses again. “There’s no internet signal out here.”
“Don’t tell me, you want to log on and check your social media?” I say sarcastically. “You think Rhi’s posted her whereabouts?”
“No!” she says. “I wanted to check something. I’m sure I read something about Tambric spice and fated mate bonds.”
I stare at her, open-mouthed, then grab the jar and lift it to my face.
Tambric spice! Fuck, yes. I read that too in one of those many, many, many fucking text books, journals and periodicals I read on the subject.
“It can be used to enhance a fated mate pair’s ability to communicate over distance. It can strengthen the bond,” I say, staring at the dried leaves. A purple color I’ve loathed ever since that fucker rubbed the stuff all over my back. It’s hard to like a color when it’s caused you so much pain.
“Are you sure?” Azlan says, stepping towards me. He looks dubious as he takes the jar from my hand.
I rub my temples, straining to remember that page, to see it in my mind’s eye. “I think so.”
Azlan hands it back to me. “You think so,” he says flatly.
“I’m almost 100 percent sure.”
“Almost?”
“Pretty certain.”
“Pretty?”
