Page 50 of Bonding Beasts (Bonding: The Ultimate Guide #3)

He slides them on, both eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Just take your time. There’s no rush,” I reassure him. “Steal your buddy’s glasses, though, because light transitions will be hard on you for a little bit. I forgot about that, sorry.”

Every time he tests it, I can tell because he sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. I let him work through it at his own pace, but his friends are shifting nervously in their seats.

“Harald?” the leader guy asks hesitantly, and I want to smack him.

“He’ll be ready when he’s ready, impatient Ivan,” I snap and lean towards him to glare. “Don’t rush him.”

Leader guy’s mouth closes with a snap, and he stares at me with wide eyes, “My name is not Ivan.”

“I don’t care,” I tell him sweetly and flip him off. I turn back to Patch or Harald, I guess. He takes several more minutes before he nods at me.

“You ready for the finger count thing?”

“Aye,” his voice is low and gravelly now, his accent stronger.

“Okay,” I can’t help it, this is exciting.

No blood and gore, just an eye fix? Such a nice change of pace.

And he’s really happy about it, too. I normally get mocked all the way out the door after I heal someone.

Patch is someone special. “Close your good eye and tell me.” I hold four fingers up.

He leans a little closer before he says, “Four?”

“Perfect!” I surprise him with my enthusiasm, I guess because he jerks back. “Was there any blurring?”

“Nay,” his voice gets choked up.

“Ok, focus over by Al and tell me how many glasses he puts on the counter,” I jerk my chin at Alzghoul, and he glares back before sliding seven glasses onto the bar.

The longer distance will test his vision, but I think I’ve gotten fairly close to 20/20 on both eyes, so he won’t have to compensate between the two .

“I can see it,” he chokes up even more. “I don’t have my glasses on, and I can see it.” The last part is a shout directed towards his friends.

“There are seven. Martini glasses if you need specifics.”

I laugh and clap my hands a few times. “I feel like a proud mom, Patch. You’re awesome.

Now you can tell all those fickle bitches to kiss your ass!

Please tell me you plan on wearing your patch to trick chicks into helping you hold your beer or something.

That would be amazing. You could do before and after expression pics on your phone.

Before patch removal, after patch removal.

Surprise bitches! If you do it, send me some. ”

His lips twitch up in a shaky smile as I dance in my seat.

“How much do we owe?”

This leader guy just has to suck all the joy out of a room, doesn’t he? It’s like he can’t help spreading his negativity around.

“Real talk? Just between you and me,” I lean closer to Patch, and he reciprocates. I lower my voice to whisper, “I won’t charge you.”

He jerks back in surprise, mouth pulled down in a scowl. It isn’t Mal-worthy, but I see some hope for him.

I hold a finger up before he can speak and crook it to draw him closer.

When he leans back down, I say, “Please. You’re the first person to actually be openly happy about being healed.

You’ve given me a reason to keep doing this, and it’s just…

nice.” The lame finish to my speech makes me wince and lean back.

Patch stares at me, still frowning but in a confused way. He turns to the leader and shakes his head slowly.

“No charge?” he scoffs and takes a big drink from his stein. “Trying to pretend to be decent? ”

I sigh so hard it feels like it comes up from my toes. Looking at Patch, I gesture towards his boss, “See what I mean?”

“A true mender wouldn’t charge anyone. Healing is its own reward,” Leader leans forward, pressing his elbows into the table as he continues. “A true mender would heal only the best of us all, regardless of race.”

“One,” I hold up a finger with a glare, “Patch is clearly the best of you, and it’s rude to imply otherwise. Two, and I’ll say this as many times as I have to: peace and love don’t pay the rent. I like food. I like eating food. Not so much the grocery shopping part, but the end result.”

“If you turned yourself in to the Delegates, you would be well cared for.”

I don’t wait for him to finish as I burst into an uncontrollable laughing fit. After a few seconds, when I think I have it under control, I sputter out, “You’re funny, Ivan. But do you actually believe that bullshit? Hey, Al, do these guys come here often?”

“No,” Alzghoul gives them his patented glare and braces his hands on the bar. Wait, is that a baseball bat? I thought this was a neutral place. I guess that rule gets overlooked when you work here.

“So, Delegate lap dogs?” I face the table with raised brows and a disgusted sneer.

“Not sure,” Al responds grimly.

I turn to Patch and give him a pitying look, “Son, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. You have so many more options out there for you.”

“We are not lap dogs for the-” leader guy’s indignant speech is shoved into the back of my mind as he stands. Whatever he’s currently saying, the spark does not like. As a matter of fact, it’s ragingly pissed off.

It bounces crazily back and forth from the internal bridge connecting me to Ben and the rusty chain that leads to Kimi.

Just really being annoying about it before digging into my chest in a hold-and-wait position like it’s suddenly been army-trained.

All of the potential bonds disappear from my mind’s eye and are replaced with a single black ribbon leading directly to the saloon-style doors of the pub.

I shift to look in that direction but don’t see anyone yet.

“You’re gonna want to move, Patch,” I mutter absently as I stand up, my hand going to my dagger.

The white noise of the leader’s speech is cut off abruptly, and Ben’s heady vetiver scent wraps around me before his hands settle on my shoulders. I look up at him to see his chin is angled away from me, pointed towards where the black ribbon ends outside.

Asking him if it’s time to run is a little idiotic. If Ben felt it was time to go, he would have picked me up and hauled me off like a sack of potatoes.

A heavy sense of dread fills my stomach as I return my gaze to the doors with a frown. The dagger gets pulled and held loosely at my side. Patch cautiously moves away from us.

The doors swing open gently, and a tall, handsome man strides through as if he owns the place.

His hair is long and white, falling freely down his back.

His eyes are the dazzling blue of the deep ocean.

He’s well-built and absolutely stunning in his formal suit and shiny shoes.

Too bad my spark seems to think he’s scum.

It rears up inside me like a rattlesnake about to strike and holds in that position, ready and waiting. But, waiting for what?

His hands are clasped behind his back as he surveys the room with a mocking smile. As if he’s a teacher watching a classroom of toddlers suddenly freezing in panic .

He takes in the berserkers one at a time as they slowly stand and face him.

Synchronized standing should be a sport, especially if alcohol is involved.

They make it look smooth and impressive but also a tad menacing because none of them look happy.

He flicks his gaze over Ben before landing on me, the only person left.

“Mender, ambassador to the Fae,” his voice is silky smooth as his smile widens in delight, and he takes several steps towards me.

I adjust my hold on the dagger. Ben steps to my side, leaving his left hand just under my nape in a loose hold.

“I assume this is Sir Benji, chosen knight of the mender?” He inclines his head politely towards Ben, who gives no response, polite or otherwise. He stands still on my right, body ready to spring.

Whatever is going on, Ben is hyped up about it too. What do he and the spark know that I don’t?

No one moves, and the stranger doesn’t acknowledge anyone else in the room. We’re stuck in this uncomfortable silence that makes me want to fidget. Especially since the guy’s eyes haven’t left mine, and his smile hasn’t faded despite the less-than-warm welcome he’s receiving.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he fills the silence, and his voice has changed to me. He is less attractive and more like a snake oil salesman, smooth and sticky at the same time.

I just adapted to whatever magic he was using to sound seductive. He doesn’t look as good now, either. “My name is Drasorin, a manservant of the Delegates.”

“All of them? That seems rough.”

Damn you mouth, shut up ! I refuse to say anything else as long as my brain-to-mouth filter cooperates .

“No, not all of them,” he chuckles lightly as he takes another step forward.

Ben’s chin dips down, and the ichor begins to spread across his features. Drasorin continues speaking as if he doesn’t notice Ben’s hostile stance. The guy either has a gigantic ego, or he’s an idiot.

“I come as an emissary to introduce myself to you and offer my services.”

Really? Wow, that sounds so awesome. Let me just jump right on that.

“No,” I keep my voice flat and calm.

“With only one guard, you leave yourself vulnerable,” he reasons and nods towards the berserkers who have stilled to watch this weird play act out in front of them.

“I was just thinking I should give Ben a raise. He does an excellent job all by himself. No complaints. Ten out of ten.”

“It’s a pleasure, baby,” Ben grins, exposing all his teeth without taking his eyes off Drasorin. I’m sure it is a pleasure for him. With all of my problems piling up, he’ll never have to worry about starving.

The idiot keeps taking small steps forward, proving my point as if we won’t notice. Even the berserkers closest to us have stepped back cautiously from Ben’s haunting voice.

“I am also proficient in the laws of this territory.”