Page 72 of Twisted Bonds

My words hang in the air like a challenge, daring him to defy my logic. He simply shakes his head and turns to go. “I’ll have some proper furnishings and meals sent. There’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable here.”

I stare at the locked door for a long time after he leaves, standing in the middle of the empty cell. Hope slipping through my fingers like sand falling in the breeze.

My empty mind drifts to Mira and her desperate mission. She is my last glimmer of hope, the only thing keeping me from succumbing to darkness. My lifeline and my world’s last chance at survival.

thirty-five

Mira

Later that evening, finding the only man in this place that I’m not bonded to would be hard if he wasn’t so predictable. When he’s not in his usual spot in his study, I know he’s in his room.

I know where it is, but I’ve never been inside it before. A knot of nerves builds in my chest as I approach the closed door. The last time I did this, I ended up bonding Callum. I find his thread in my mind and realize it feels a little underdone. Maybe we bonded too soon. We haven’t had much time together lately. I’ve barely talked with him alone at all since it happened. It’s like he’s pulling away from me.

I make a mental note to find him tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door without knocking so he can’t turn me away.

I’m instantly struck by how small his room is. Tiny, even.

There are no windows or an open balcony. No rich mahogany furniture or marble floors. It's barely larger than the dungeon cells. The same stone encases the room, a small bed is shoved against the wall, and an old desk and chair sit opposite, where Tairyn is shirtless, hunched over reading something.

His bare back is carved with surprising muscle as he turns to spy me standing with mouth agape in his doorframe. His brow flickers with questions, but he nods his head to the door.

“Come in.”

There’s no hint of sarcasm or annoyance, despite my intrusion. I lick my lips nervously, taking the moment to close the door and gather my thoughts. When I turn back around, he’s standing with arms crossed over his bare chest, leaning against his desk looking at me with an appraising gaze.

A hint of concern laces his voice as he says my name. Questioning. As if to ask, Why did you come here?

His words from dinner reverberate through my mind, like the striking of a gong. The echoes seem to linger and bounce around in my skull, taunting me with their meaning. It is not the first time that they have resurfaced, but this time they carry an added weight, as if they are trying to be heard above the chaos of warring thoughts in my head. His words are like a puzzle piece that I can’t fit into place, no matter how hard I try.

You aren’t worthy of being her mate.

I haven’t had a chance to discuss the lunch incident with Bobble or Sunder yet, but I know they’ll show up in my room tonight. One night apart was enough for all of us.

“What’s wrong?” he asks out loud this time. His steps are measured as he approaches me, eyes scanning my face and body. Not in the usual way a man would eye a woman randomly showing up in their bedroom at night, though. This is different.

My brain is frozen, watching him.

He closes the distance between us, his worried gaze never leaving mine. His outstretched arms hesitate, unsure of what to do, before finally falling back to his side. Every muscle in his body is tense, and I can see the weight of it all in the furrow of his brow and the slight trembling of his fingers. The air is thick with unspoken words. It’s as if time has slowed down, allowing us to fully take in each moment before it slips away like clouds in the breeze.

My mind stumbles for a moment, trying to remember why I came.

“I just don’t understand why you have to provoke Sunder and the others so much.”

The tension bleeds from his body as he lets out a tired sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he turns to walk back to his chair. In that subtle movement, he reminds me of Sunder. But it’s fleeting. He turns back around and leans against his desk, eyes back to their resting state of cold and distant.

“If you’re here to tell me to play nice, consider the message received.”

I cross my arms over my chest, shielding myself from his harsh tone. I almost turn to leave. Clearly, he doesn’t want me here.

But then I remember that moment we shared in his study, when he admitted he tried to save me. The bruises on his face, the cuts, are completely gone now. He’s still shielded, so I have to assume Bobble has been treating him.

A part of me is compelled to console him and show him that he is not invisible. Another part of me wants to smack some sense into him. A third, expanding part of me desires to provoke him until he loses his composure again. I wonder how different that spanking would go now that we’ve gotten to know each other. I swallow that thought before it takes over.

“Tairyn.” Even I’m surprised at the tenderness in which his name leaves my lips. His gaze locks to mine, softening ever so slightly, as I take a cautious step towards him.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I cautiously reach out to touch his arm under his watchful gaze. I’m pretty sure neither of us is breathing.