Page 26 of Bonding Beasts (Bonding: The Ultimate Guide #3)

I leave my face buried into his shoulder as he carries me without question. His scent is stronger here, so I get a full dose of comforting vetiver instead of the measly scraps from his clothes. I might become an addict, I won’t lie.

I feel a chill pass over my skin as he murmurs thanks to Scilla and steps up. What is he doing? There aren’t any stairs in his room, yet we’re traveling up.

The room’s temperature changes to become cooler, and I hear the hum of air conditioning where before there was silence.

Ben removes the arm under my butt, removing the support for my weak legs, and they drop down towards the floor.

He’s tall enough that my toes don’t touch down, and I dangle there, refusing to let go of his neck.

He doesn’t take the other arm from around my shoulders and nuzzles into the side of my head.

“We’re home.”

“Home? I thought we were already home?”

Wait, as I think about that, why would Ben ever invite his Mother to his place? I doubt he’s even told her where it is. That also explains all the posters on the walls. Awww , Ben was an angsty teen at some point. He still is kind of an angsty teen. Angsty adult?

“Nah. I figured it was safer elsewhere,” he mutters and leans down until my feet flatten on the cold hardwood floor. His hand slides across my shoulders, stroking down my good arm to grasp my elbow. “We have company.”

I lean back to frown at him, then turn in a rush. My legs try to give out mid-turn, and I grab Ben’s arm as he thrusts them out in case I fall.

Mitri is standing directly in front of me, completely unharmed, hands loose at his sides and palms on his guns. Both of them. He has them both. He’s only a few feet away, staring at me with his cold intensity.

“Beatrice,” his tone is just as flat as ever as he holds out one hand to me. I don’t think he’s ever said my name before.

My heart does a weird little squeeze that’s painful and pleasant at the same time. I stumble on my way to him, not bothering to play it cool as I rush. I skip past his extended hand and throw my good arm around him as my chest hits him. It's not a smart move, really, because it hurts !

I’m not expecting him to hug me back. That’s definitely not Mitri’s style. As soon as my arm is around him, I clutch a fistful of his jacket and hold on, hoping he won’t pull away from me. As soon as my head settles on his chest, I hear his heartbeat, steadily drumming without a care.

Holding Ben makes me feel like I’m on a lazy raft, drifting downstream easily with no trouble on the horizon. Holding Mitri is like clutching a boulder in a roaring river and hoping you don’t lose your grip. The boulder isn’t going to move for you or the rapids around it.

The hand he extended draws back, and he palms the back of my neck as he leans down to put his mouth next to my ear.

“Put it back, dorogoya ,” he whispers in a rush of warm air that makes me shiver.

He’s right. I still can’t feel him, although holding him makes me feel much better about that fact. I peek in on the spark and prod it a bit.

A little help, please?

It flickers for a second and sputters before settling back into place. It’s still burned out, and I have no idea how to fix this myself.

“I can’t,” I whisper back. “I’m too weak right now.”

I hate admitting it. It’s not like it isn’t obvious with the bruising and swelling, but saying it aloud makes me cringe.

His fingers shift against the short hair there, and he takes a deep breath. “You will fix it.”

He says it like a demand, and my eyes narrow as I tilt my head back to see him clearly. Whatever he sees on my face doesn’t cause any reaction, and my eyes narrow further.

He presses his forehead to mine and whispers, “You will choose to fix it.”

It's still demanding, but better wording, I guess.

A throat clears from behind Mitri, and I try to pull farther away to see, but he doesn’t release me, and I pause, staring back at him.

I can feel his breath on my lips and find myself leaning forward the tiniest bit before the throat clearing turns into a cough.

Mitri’s hand tightens on the back of my head as my arm drops from around him in embarrassment. He stands straight and pivots slightly, allowing me to see past him to Kimi, standing stiffly behind the dining room table, arms behind his back like an impatient butler.

He’s still golden-skinned with his tail coiled behind him, wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt sporting hot pink flamingos tucked into a faded pair of skin-tight jeans in the front.

He had to have cut a hole in those for his tail to be out.

His face is expressionless, and his body is so still he seems like a statue.

I get chills looking at him, and not the good kind.

He gracefully gestures toward the only chair across from him when he has my full attention.

That’s odd. Ben has at least six at the table. Where are the rest? There’s a massive candelabra on the left-hand side with sixteen candles lit despite all the lights being on. A black tablecloth I’ve never seen is spread across the surface; with various items I can’t quite see all over it.

Well, there’s two of the other chairs. King and Mal are tied to them ?

I meet Mal’s glaring eyes with wide ones of my own. His muscles bulge as he tries to break free of whatever has him chained to the chair as I gape in shock.

King sits beside him, lounging back as if he spends every day tied up and gagged, eyeing Mal as he struggles. He seems almost… bored.

“What the fuck?” I gasp in shock. Not exactly the reunion I was expecting. “Why are they tied up? Did something happen?”

“Bees, deep breaths,” Ben says calmly behind me.

“Did they do something to you? Hurt you?” I grab Mitri’s tie and yank. He turns back to face me from his stare-off with Kimi.

No, it isn’t lost on me that I’m demanding the who-knows-how-old immortal tell me if the bad man hurt him. I have completely lost my damn mind.

“He killed you,” Kimi says in the calmest tone I’ve ever heard him use.

I lean past Mitri to give Kimi the most incredulous look I can muster. “So what? It wasn’t him, I’m pretty sure. He’s looking a lot less puppet-like right now.”

“ So what? ” Ben snarls and stomps up to my side.

Mitri straightens to his full height, pulling my arm up as I hold on to his tie. All three males give me varying judgy stares that make me cringe inside.

“Mal? Help?”

He grumbles from behind the square of cloth covering his mouth and glares at me, shifting side to side while raising an eyebrow as if to say, “I’m a little tied up at the moment.” I can actually picture him saying it, too.

“Okay, hold up,” I release Mitri’s tie and try to step back from him, but his grip tightens, holding me in place.

I raise both hands in surrender and say as calmly as I can, “Mitri, let me go.”

His reply is an instant, “ Nyet .”

“Mitri,” I snap and try to pull my head back. His arm doesn’t budge, and he seems to be getting angry, eyes narrowing slightly and brows tilting down the tiniest amount.

“ Nyet ,” he says, like it’s the only word he knows now, and the hand shifts down to grip the back of my neck.

It immediately makes my hackles rise, and I push back on my feet to yank myself out of his hold. Due to my weakness, or his apparent strength, I manage to lean while getting nowhere.

My stomach twists in sudden dread. It snuck up on me from out of nowhere and gets worse as Mitri pulls me towards the table. Crap, he’s pissed that I hesitated, isn’t he. Damn it, why did I hug him again?

My feet slide across the floor, made smooth by the swelling there, and make me wince.

“Stop,” Kimi’s voice is blank and emotionless as he watches.

It draws my attention towards him, but before I can look at him, my eyes fall on the items on the table. As we get closer, I begin to identify some of them, and I have no idea what a few of them are.

A hairdryer, crimper, and curling iron sit beside a wooden box with carvings all over it, either side covered in a curtain that billows in and out like whatever is inside is breathing heavily.

A few sheets of square cut cloth with sigils painted on them stacked daintily like napkins. A dagger, a pair of kama, what look like medieval thumb screws, and several spheres with spikes sticking out of them, from needle-like to actual three-inch nails.

“Wait,” Ben’s voice is no longer angry, now concerned and bordering on panic. I’ve never heard him upset before. Angry, sure, but not distressed.

I can only note it absently as my eyes find a scalpel. A bone saw. A rib spreader. Various other surgical instruments meant to slice and flay skin.

Why would this be here? I see the chair pulled back from the table, waiting for me to sit, and I lose it.

The passenger seat greets me like an old friend as I stop resisting, allowing my body to go pliant. Mitri’s grip loosens as Ben snarls in rage.

Darkness envelops me, and I hold very still, waiting for any telltale signs that he’s close. Mitri is jerked away from me in a frenzy of snarls, and I feel a flutter of concern before it’s stomped out, just like the pain in my body and the worries in my head.

In front of me is an entire arsenal meant to torture. I have vivid experience with quite a few of them. The darkness passes as I stand still, Ben moving farther away from me with Mitri in tow.

“You idiots ,” Ben yells in his echoing voice, “you can’t show…”

His voice becomes static as I look over the items again, reliving each item with memories infected with pain and hopelessness.

The fight beside me is no longer consequential as I’m swallowed by them.

People move in my peripherals as I stare down intently.

They all look clean and ready to go. What are they going to do to me?

Why?

What rule did I disobey?