Page 47 of A Cruel Kindness

That was the logic I was going with regardless.

I made it to the cabin in record time, my mind focusing on the fact that I could have a night of peace with Bellamy and some friends before the shit show started.

I was flying up the stairs when I realized that a night out in Muli territory meant that we’d be wearing Muli clothes.

Bellamy would be in a completely backless shirt. In public.

My next step missed the stairs and I tripped, damn near smashing my face on the deck.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

Chapter 13

Bellamy

When Soren walked back into the cabin with a limp and told me we were going to a pub of all places in Muli territory, I didn’t know what I was expecting.

I certainly wasn’t thinking that our plans would begin in the stables.

While I blinked at Soren and lobbied a confused “ What?” at him, Esme and Ford had both simply muttered, “Thank God,” under their breaths and headed into their room like this was completely normal.

Soren then promptly told me that I would need to change. His exact words were, “Take your shirt off,” which sent such immediate panic—and a fair bit of anticipation—pumping through my limbs I was sure I was going to pass out.

When I collected myself, I realized that if we were going to Muli territory, I needed to dress the part. That meant wearing a shirt that exposed my Mark.

I changed in the bathroom, if not to save me the image of Soren shirtless again. Not that I needed a reminder of what he looked like. It was all but seared into my brain.

And now it would be joined by the image of him in a tight black shirt that highlighted the bulging muscles of his arms and exposed his Mark and back to the world. I had half the mind to fake an illness and demand we stay back so no one was able to see him like that.

My only comfort was that it made it very clear he was taken. I understood why it was so important to Muli that they expose their Marks when you were Matched. If I had to deal with people approaching Soren, thinking he was available, I would likely kill someone.

I expected myself to be horrified by that thought, seeing as I’d never ended someone’s life before, but the feeling never struck.

When I walked back out, my own shirt hugging tight to my body, Soren looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. All I knew was that he looked at me too long, long enough that my resolve started slipping.

Esme’s shrieking command that we go to the stables was the only thing that cut the tension.

It took another handful of seconds for either of us to move, waging a silent battle of who would be heading out the door first. It was better not to verbalize our reasons for the stalemate, and I was pretty sure they were aligned.

The last person to walk out got the best view of our Mark.

Soren’s patience eclipsed mine, and when he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, I knew I wasn’t going to beat him.

Restraining the urge to stomp my foot in frustration, I turned around and forced myself to walk out the door. When I made it out, I caught Esme swallowing something at the sink. It was impossible to miss, the way she threw her head back and gulped down water.

She didn’t notice me until she put the water glass in her hand down. She likely thought I’d only seen enough that I’d assume she was just taking a sip, but there was no mistaking what she’d done. Her hand had risen to her mouth, her head tipped back to make sure it went down easily.

In the little I knew about Esme so far, I knew that she was deeply private. Choosing not to push it, I just said, “Ready,” to alert her.

When Esme turned, I realized that this was the first time I was seeing her Mark.

I knew part of it depicted a snake, in the little I could see on the back of her and Ford’s hands. Now, in a shirt meant to expose her Mark, I could see the full image.

The snake started on her hand, before curling up and around her arm once, then moving around her shoulders and neck, how it would rest over someone’s body trying to balance the weight of that reptile. It tucked under her right arm, seemingly moving across her back, before the snake’s body ended in a neat curl of its tail over her left hip.

The exposed panels of her shirt were rather fashionable, which I was sure pleased Esme’s tastes to no end. I didn’t think she would be as pleased about the size of her Mark, which constrained her to wearing clothing that covered it. Even in the dessert climate of the base back home, I’d never seen her in any shirt that ended above the wrist.

“Wonderful,” Esme said in response, clapping her hands together excitedly, sending jewelry chiming in her wake. Her eyes drifted over my shoulder when Soren approached, which sent her into a fit of laughter. In response to my eyebrows drawing together in confusion, she simply waved her hand and said, “Oh, we are going to have a fun night.”