Blood Bonds(The Bonds That Tie #3)(25)

The Dark One nods without hesitation, stepping back, and my Bonded steps in to lift me up into his arms. He’s careful about the wound, one arm cradling my thigh protectively to his side, and he tucks my chest into his closely.

There are far too many layers of clothing between us for the power shift I need, but we’re moving out of the tent before I can demand he strip down and give me what I need.

The moment we’re out in the open, there are too many eyes on us.

The survivors and the cavalry alike, they all stare as we move through the camp. It’s obvious why we're having to step over dozens of bodies to pick our way back over to the Transporter, but all of it is irrelevant to me. I don’t care about their thoughts on what I’ve done here, but from the shuttered look on my Bonds’ faces, they do.

I feel like I should point out that I’m a merciful god and I only kill those who torture, maim, and murder for their own nefarious gains. The little beings living quietly mean nothing to me.

“Jesus fucking Christ, be glad none of you can hear what’s happening in her head right now. A lot more shit about our Bond and her fear of this is making sense,” my Bonded says, and I fight the urge to reach into his chest and pull his heart out.

“You wouldn’t. You need me and we both know it.”

Still. It would be fun to do.

When we get to the edges of the tents and the small clearing, we find the Transporter waiting there for us with the other Dark One, the damaged one.

He doesn’t react to our arrival, barely looks my way, but the Transporter fumbles over himself in his relief. “Oli! Thank God! I thought—Jesus, Gryph, what happened to her?”

“She needs to get out of here, and now isn’t a great time to talk to her.”

“Oli isn’t really in right now, and her bond is trying to plan how to take over the world, so maybe give her a minute,” the Shifter says with a smirk, cocky and confident now that he knows what’s going on.

I turn my face against my Bonded’s chest to meet the Transporter’s eye, acknowledging that his words have pulled me out of the girl and wrought this destruction, and he looks back at me with such relief, like he really was sitting here with bated breath, waiting for them to find me.

I decide to keep him alive. The Fire girl, her Bonded, and this one. Maybe the mouthy Techno boy, maybe. But I’d choose them to die last, right before my Bonds and I, if it were to come down to that.

“I’ll be sure to let Sage know that too, Bonded.”

I give him a withering glare that does nothing to remove the smirk on his lips. “Get out of my head, nosy Bonded, or maybe I’ll rethink my plans of tearing your heart out.”

He chuckles under his breath. “I have to admit, it’s fun seeing this side of you. I can’t help it. Besides, you ran off into danger again without any of your Bonds. You owe me a little fun.”

There’s no time to tell him exactly how that is not the case, that I owe all of them nothing and they should all be worshipping me for merely existing, because the Transporter walks back over to us and with a steady, bloodied hand offered to me, he says, “Let’s get the fuck out of here before anyone else gets cut up.”





I’m expecting to go back to the Draven mansion, but instead we pop back into existence in a large warehouse full of men dressed in Tac gear and Healers wearing white coats to make them easily distinguishable. There are already freed prisoners being looked at by Healers and when they notice our arrival, a group of them come rushing at us.

I don’t like that.

Even knowing they’re not Resistance, I don’t like being rushed, and especially not with four of my Bonds standing here with me. The moment I tense, my Bonded turns on his heel, putting his back between us and the Healers, and he snaps, “Back up! You’re about to get fried.”

“Or eaten,” the other Dark One drawls, three of his creatures baring their teeth at the approaching men, and though they look like perfect beings to me, all three men gulp from where I can see over my Bonded’s shoulder.

Pathetic.

The Dark One steps out in front. “We need Felix Davenport. We brought him with us specifically to see to our Bond.”

One of the men sputters indignantly and snaps, “He’s a third year student! A councilman’s Bond should be seen by—”

“She will be seen by Davenport and no one else. It’s not your decision to make, Payne.”

A Healer called Payne? I feel like the girl would enjoy that greatly. There’s a lightness in my head and I rest my forehead back down onto my Bonded’s chest, taking slow breaths to stop the swirling there. His arms tighten again and then he snaps, “Get the fuck out of the way before I hack into your brain and dredge up enough information to bury you.”

There’s more murmuring but then the Healer calls out, “I’m here! I was just getting Kyrie settled with some fluids, where’s Oli—Jesus fucking Christ. Put her down; that’s enough blood to kill a man, and that position is just making it worse.”

My Bonded steps over to one of the stretchers, but instead of putting me down, he takes a seat, moving my legs around so that the Healer will have access to them. One of his big palms slides under my shirt to flatten over my spine, holding me securely against his chest, and it heats up as his gift spreads through my body.