Page 26 of A Cruel Kindness

Panic flared, my mind latching on to the more illicit meaning in his words. “You don’t know shit.” Soren’s eyes widened, his lips rolling to conceal a smile, as if it was just the funniest thing in the world that I’d cursed. “You know things about me not me— eep!” My words ended in an ungraceful shriek, startled by the sound of a too-loud gunshot banging through the space. Someone clearly forgot to attach their silencer, and my body seized in response.

Soren’s hand landed on my chin, making me look at him. The touch burned hotter than a brand. But it settled me, it loosened the tension in my limbs. He noticed. “I think I might know you, Bell.”

My composure snapped, as easy as a twig under a heavy boot. Soren didn’t know anything about me. We’d suffer the effects of this … curse, but that didn’t mean he deserved any more from me.

Pushing him away from me, and trying not to note how right his chest felt under my hands, I stalked past him and into the gun range.

When people noticed my entrance, a few people muttered Princess or Your Grace under their breath in a show of respect, while others just felt it fitting to stare at me. I had lost the ability to care.

“Hello everyone,” I said with a forcefully kind tone. I wanted to run through these evaluations and get this the hell over with. The last thing I had to do was the gun range, and even if I’d been spooked by one, that didn’t mean I’d let anyone see me falter.

Refusing to look back at Soren, though I could feel him trailing me, I walked over to an empty stall and picked up the pistol that someone had abandoned there. Quickly and without dramatics, I checked the chamber and loaded in another round of ammunition.

“Bell,” Soren said, trying to get my attention. I ignored him.

I aimed the gun at the target, hung at the furthest distance down the dim, gray expanse used for this range. I passively wondered what ancient part of the temple had been destroyed and converted for this. Based on the length of the space, I would guess a crypt. I was sure the bodies of priests and priestesses that had rested here were unceremoniously cast aside, their rest not even a consideration in light of the benefit of refurbishing the space to churn out well-trained soldiers.

Placing my finger on the trigger, I shot off the entire round of bullets, creating a larger and larger hole in the center of the target with each piece of heated lead that ripped through it.

Once I was done, and my chest was sufficiently heaving, I slammed the gun back down and turned to Soren. Before I could speak, he pushed me against the small wall separating the stalls, his expression serious.

“Like I said, you don’t know me. You don’t know anything about the person I've become over the last six years,” I tried to snap at him, though my tone held little fire. I was exposing too much about how I felt about other people’s assumptions, especially when they were regarding my strength.

Soren didn’t respond, just moved his eyes around my face like he was trying to catalog every little feature. It was as if he was physically restraining me. I didn’t think I could move—even if I wanted to.

A second later, his hand came to rest on mine, the warm, calloused skin of his palm pressing into my shaking hand.

Soren’s expression turned pained, like I’d just slid a knife into his abdomen. I shook my head, my eyebrows creasing together in my own expression of anguish.

This felt like too much already.

How well he seemed to read me. Add in the fact that he did know quite a bit about me, even if they were basic facts, and his bone-deep stare felt like fire lancing over my skin.

His hand tightened over mine, trying to stop the shaking. It wouldn’t go away for probably another thirty minutes, I’d wager.

When I got overwhelmed like this, my hands gave me away first.

Unfortunately, the jitters and nerves felt quelled under his hand.

A different sort of jitters pooled in my stomach when he lifted his other hand and trailed it lightly over the perimeter of my face, stopping on every spot where my skin was slightly discolored from scars I’d gained as a young girl.

My mother had always told me I was far too pretty to have scars like that marring my face. Unluckily for her, the concentrated pigment intended to cover them up hadn’t made its way into the small bag I was allowed to bring with me.

“Is it the guns?” Soren asked, his voice soft, yet somehow still strong as steel as he looked for the reason behind my shaking.

I shook my head, which only served to make his hand scrape against my face. “I’m okay with them. Better than a bow. Safer.”

Safe. That word seemed to do something to Soren. He cursed under his breath, his eyes growing distant as he retreated into his mind. Trying to bargain with the Bond to shut up, I assumed.

I took a step back from him, needing the distance for my own sanity.

“I’m fine, Soren,” I said, bringing fire into my tone. I needed to forcefully keep distance between us, even if that meant inviting strife. It was the only way to keep him disinterested in my every movement and do what I needed to.

I couldn’t trust that the Bond wouldn’t fuck it up for both of us.

Soren’s eyes hardened, his own show of pushing away the insanity the Bond was causing both of us. “Go on, then,” he said, almost daring me to step further away from him.

I intended to. I really did.