Page 33 of A Sweet Destruction

“Her or you. All I was told was to look for a paramin—a man and a woman with a snake tattoo.” Edeka nodded at my own arm, the snake embedded there looking even more menacing than normal, expanded under bunched muscle.

His bumbling statement struck me as a little odd, but now was not the time for unpacking it.

“EXCUSE ME!” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, blanching the soldier’s skin even further.

My mouth curled to hide a smile at the thought that Peter’s voice must hurt from forcing out that booming yell so often. A thought I realized quickly was shared by Esme when our eyes connected in a secret, shared moment.

Something physically hurt in my chest at the realization that the small smile lighting her eyes was the first of its kind that I could remember seeing in a long, long time. That pain was only made worse when that smile dropped a moment later and her mouth fell into a forced frown.

Was the idea of sharing a moment of laughter with me that heinous?

Or, was it that she’d looked to me for those moments countless times before and my ignorance to them had trained her to suppress it?

Either path had some distant, rumbling force inside me start to awaken, coaxed into life by the depth of my horror.

“You’ll be alright,” Esme said to Edeka, snapping back into that side of herself that could soothe others so easily, even though she clearly didn’t share an ounce of that peace herself. “I would say his bark is bigger than his bite, but that’s not at all true. We’ll just make sure he doesn’t actually bite.”

Oh, God help me, the fool was falling in love with her on the spot, his eyes turning dopey and soft.

You should take his eyes so he can’t look at her again.

That incredibly intrusive thought shot to the front of my mind like it sent there with a slingshot. I had to forcefully remind myself that I did not like harming people and that he did not deserve it and that popping his eyes right out of his head would be gross rather than fun.

Peter approached so fast, any lesser person would have skidded to a stop. He was as solid as a tree trunk and was able to stop his breakneck pace in a second.

In a well-practiced effort of self control, Peter paused to take a deep breath and observe his surroundings before launching off into an accusatory rage. It was clear he noticed the pile of weapons on the ground and our calm demeanor and decided that the situation didn’t warrant aggressive behavior.

“You,” Peter snapped at Edeka, which was on the softer side of his tone. “Are you here to deliver a threat or a diplomatic message?”

“Diplomatic,” Edeka rushed out. Goodness, did they send the most nervous soldier they had on this mission? His answer quelled the tension in the group, invoking notions of morality in war that transcended worlds—when you sought peace, no one harmed you.

Even then, Edeka didn’t look so convinced that we wouldn’t take his head off in two seconds.

Peter seemed to sense the same, intentionally softening his demeanor and changing his posture so that he looked less imposing. He was better than me—I was still broadening my shoulders to make sure that Esme was partially tucked behind me.

“Is your mission here done, son?” Peter asked, and it wasn’t until then that I realized how young Edeka was. Though twenty-seven wasn’t old by any means, I was on the elder side when it came to soldiers.

Edeka nodded, clearly eager to get out of there. Peter facilitated the next bit, organizing a group to escort Edeka back to his equin that he’d left in the fields just outside of our claimed territory. Ella was leading the charge, the only person Peter really trusted to handle things in his stead.

It was clear that he intended for me and Esme to stay put, which forced me to stand still even though something restless was building with concerning speed in my gut.

And being forced to stand there, to really see the ease and familiarity that passed between Peter and Ella—hell, between every single soldier around me who’d made the journey to Muli with their Match. Juxtaposing that with the stiff chill radiating from Esme beside me was making me feel inches away from insanity.

Chapter 10

Esme

I could remember feeling several emotions towards Ford over the years—anger, hurt, embarrassment, even fear.

But I didn’t think I’d ever felt unsure. No, nervous? Maybe unsettled.

Whatever the emotion was, making my hands feel cold and my limbs twitchy, I didn’t like it.

The Bond, meanwhile, was having a fucking field day. Ford’s incredibly dramatic performance had been full of pure male protectiveness. Not the first time he’d done so—he’d always been the type to stand between danger and his people.

Maybe that was the problem. Before it had always felt impersonal, like he’d lay himself down on the line for anyone who was at risk of harm.

The way he’d stormed out of the barn after me and pushed himself in between me and Officer Edeka…that had felt personal. Really, unavoidably personal in a way that made the Bond feel stroked and cared for.