Page 136 of A Sweet Destruction

He walked in between us, ignoring the bark of protest that left both of us. All I could see were the edges of Ford’s shoulders, pinched back and straining. I could see Elijah reaching up, and based on the feral growl that Ford let out, I was pretty sure he’d grabbed his face. “Get it together. Or I’m going to get annoyed and send someone to go blow up your camp again.”

Nothing. No reaction out of Ford.

“I will kill that general of yours.”

Silence.

“I will kill your entire family.”

A rustle of legs, but still nothing.

“What about your little horse, huh?”

I tried to beg him, but my throat was wrenched shut by the Bond. I didn’t think I was capable of saying anything other than his name. I was pretty sure I let it out, seeing as Ford’s leg twitched.

“I will send the largest weapon we have right through that goddamn Bridge and blow up your entire world.”

Again, Ford didn’t appear to hear him at all. Elijah hadn’t even asked him a question. I didn’t know what he wanted from him other than to parade his worst nightmares in front of him.

Then, slowly, even a little softly, Elijah said, “I will kill her.”

The sound that left Ford was utterly inhuman, nothing more than a foaming snarl as he thrashed and thrashed against his restraints and the hands holding him down.

Elijah took two steps back. If I had half a mind to hold at the moment, I might have realized that they were a little unsteady.

“Well…” he said, opening up his stance so I could see his face again. Something had changed in his expression. The humor had fled, maybe.

Maybe Elijah did have a heart, unable to stay stoic when Ford was in obvious, full body pain—like there was a million white-hot pokers stabbing his skin.

“Ford,” I cried again, choking on his name. “I’m okay, baby. Look at me, I’m okay.”

Ford settled just enough to meet my eyes. They stuck and held and I saw everything I would miss with him lying in that comfortable green.

I tried like hell to keep my own defeat out of my expression, pushing my cheeks up into a watery smile. “I’m okay,” this one, not higher than a whisper.

Ford nodded, until his eyes drifted over my rumpled shirt and down to my leg, where Elijah’s knife was still sticking out of it. I’d forgotten it was there, that dull ache the weaker opponent against the splitting agony in my chest.

Ford’s fury came back in a blink, his face flushing red as he fought and fought and fought with nowhere to go.

“Oh my fucking God,” Elijah bit out, stomping over to me and unceremoniously yanking the knife out of my thigh. The shocked yelp of pain that escaped me only sent Ford deeper into a blind rage.

The next thing I knew, I was tipping up to the ceiling. I flailed—well, as much as I could with my hands tied behind my back—trying to catch myself from an impending fall that never came.

Instead, Elijah dragged my chair over to Ford, planting me right in front of his so that Ford’s knees were touching my injured leg.

A leg that I couldn’t care less about at the moment. Not when I could smell Ford and feel the heat radiating from his chest and, oh, I could let my head fall forward into the crook of his neck.

“Esme,” Ford whispered, pouring my name into my ear in a gruff whisper until I started to hear my own breaths again. The Bond was still snapped taut with primal terror and fear, but it had the object of its desires close enough to touch.

I had no regard for our lack of privacy nor our predicament as I rolled my forehead against the strong muscle at Ford’s neck, wanting to burrow right into his skin where I might finally feel safe.

I wasn’t sure how long Elijah let us sit there, folded together as best we could, but it was long enough that the bleeding in my leg started to slow to a steady ooze.

For a brief moment, I believed we were going to be okay. That was, until I started to feel a pull on the back of my chair.

In a state of blind panic, I bit down on the skin of Ford’s shoulder, picking up the collar of his shirt—the only way I could think to hold on to him. I was prepared to break my teeth in half to hold onto that tiny scrap of fabric.

Elijah reached between us and broke us apart, dragging my chair back with no regard for my pleas.