Page 43 of A Sweet Destruction

No matter that the feeling of her hands on my skin felt like a hot brand of fire, warming my entire body.

What was more distracting was the amount of Royal guards funneling towards Bellamy and Soren.

“What the…” Esme said, trailing off.

Apparently, Dulik was listening because he chuckled in response. “Oh, did I not mention our visitors? The Emperor himself has decided to make a trip out to us. Morale and all that. Brought quite a few family members along with him. We were going to send notice across the Bridge today, but you all just had to steal our thunder.”

“And since when does the Empire care about our morale?” Esme asked Dulik, simply assuming he would follow her, taking off down the hallway after a verbally annoyed Bellamy and Soren, who were both individually bickering with the guards at either side.

Soren’s string of colorful threats when one of the guards tried to lead Bellamy with a hand on her arm nearly made me smile. Nearly.

I didn’t think my face was capable of anything other than a deep scowl as I walked behind Esme, the second best option to inserting myself right in the middle of her and Dulik’s ugly mug.

“Since our two lovely Royals were such a hit on their little visit home,” Dulik answered, an obvious sneer in his voice.

Esme’s head moved to the side, then quickly snapped back to face forward.

For some awful reason, I thought that she was about to turn back to me to share a look or some small quip before forcefully stopping herself.

The Bond caught wind of my trickle of disappointment and started mopping like a kicked dog, pushing waves of anguish through my limbs.

“You can’t really hide how annoying they are,” Dulik continued, his chin jutting up towards Bellamy and Soren. Even now, Soren had an arm wrapped protectively over Bellamy’s shoulders, and I watched him casually flick away a guard who got too close to her. “Apparently they’ve been all over the news for the past two weeks since they visited Florus. The Emperor decided to pay them a visit—filmed for his own benefit, of course. Also brought any family members that wanted to make the trip out. Don’t think people were very happy with the idea that their new favorite couple was in danger.”

“Oh, God forbid the Emperor loses a little bit of support,” Esme said. War in any form wasn’t the most popular, and the only way the Empire had gotten away with one of this length was by constantly drumming up fear.

We stop defending the Bridge, Muli will kill you. Simple as that.

But even with fear, you needed something to hope for. That was one of the most critical roles the paranimas, and Matched in general, played. The idea of Soul Mates was enticing, finding someone who’s you were divinely chosen for, someone who was yours as much as you were theirs.

Mine, the Bond hummed in response, fixated on the way Esme’s hair swished against the gentle curve of her lower spine. My fingers itched with the urge to stroke through those strands, to discover if they felt as silky as they looked.

That well-trained muscle to shove way that thought flexed again. No use doing so now. Especially when I was pretty sure the Bond would internally berate me for attempting to do so.

The little dot of light from the large dome of the temple—the space we’d taken over for our meals and meetings—was growing with each step. The corridor we were moving in was getting smaller, crowded with people and carts shoved off to the side.

And when Dulik stepped close enough to Esme to brush his arm against hers, I decided her wrath was worth it.

“Move it,” I snapped at him, shoving my way in between them.

Her quiet “Thank you” shocked me, but I kept my expression neutral. Reveal my all out glee and I might scare her away.

“Oh, now you care,” Dulik grumbled under his throat, and I decided then and there that I would find a way to make his life hell. In a slow, thoughtful way that would make him scared of his own shadow.

And just not because his quiet jab made me realize that the lack of connection between me and Esme hadn’t been lost on others.

Embarrassment pierced my chest, only cut off by the eruption of noise as Bellamy and Soren’s group finally breached the last leg of the corridor and stepped under the main dome.

I stepped closer to Esme, bringing a hand around her back—hovering, not quite touching. Thankfully, she didn’t jerk away.

A very, very wise decision. The second we crossed that line out of the hallway, we were assaulted by a swarm of people—far more than had ever been allowed on the base at one time.

I took stock of my surroundings quickly, noting the crew of journalists shoving cameras in Bellamy and Soren’s faces, one of them scribbling wildly onto a notepad and another fumbling with a recording device.

The top of the Emperor’s head was just visible out of the circle of Royal guards surrounding him, waiting by while his daughter was squeezed dry of an exclusive story. Propaganda before family, it seemed.

Soren looked seconds away from crushing a very expensive piece of equipment under his boot.

Though that image seemed quite entertaining, Esme’s soft gasp pulled my focus back to her.