Page 13 of Broken Ties
How the fuck will I ever be able to share her with the rest of the Bond Group?
There’s nothing really to say about me. My name is Oleander Fallows, I’m nineteen, and I don’t want to be here. I was found by a TacTeam and the Council had them bring me back here. They’ve put GPS trackers in me now, so there’s no way for me to leave here. Yet.
I’m hittingthe call button before I’ve even processed her words. It rings twice before she picks up and through my growing rage, I don’t even consider that I’m about to speak to my Bond for the first time. I don’t even give her the chance to utter a word, politeness thrown all the way out, but I do manage to rein in my fury so my voice is level and calm.
“Hey, what do you mean a GPS tracker?”
She clears her throat, a delicate sound that shouldn’t get me grinning down the line like a psycho, yet here I am looking like the Joker on steroids, then I hear my Bond’s voice for the first time. “The Council held me down and implanted a GPS tracker under my skin while I struggled. Well, I would have struggled if the Gifted in the room hadn’t paralyzed me. It’s got some safeguard on it so I can’t just dig it out myself. Apparently, one of my other Bonds is a very important man and I’ve pissed him off enough to have my autonomy taken from me.”
My brain switches off entirely, my vision whiting out while my heartbeat becomes a roar in my ears. Years of training my restraint means that I don’t lose control of my Gift and crush my phone, but my hand is shaking with the efforts of holding it back.
I can’t contain the tremble of pure rage in my voice, or the spill of words that come out with way more intensity than I was hoping to throw at her this early on. “I’ll come now, fuck my college classes.”
There’s every chance I’ve blown it and she’s about to hang up and make a run for it, but after a second she speaks, her voice a little hoarse. “It’s my own doing. I ran. They won’t ever let me forget that either. Fuck, I’d probably hate me too if I were them.”
Words are impossible, let alone managing to say something about the rest of the Bond Group that isn’t malicious, so I grunt in frustration as I start packing up my desk to distract myself, throwing our passports into my carry-on bag first. “You had a reason though, right? You didn’t just leave for the fun of it.”
She scoffs at me, but the indignation in her voice is full of sass that has my packing turning frantic. “How exactly can you be so sure of that? I could be a total asshole here.”
I copy her scoff, enjoying the hell out of my Bond already and we’re still a country-length apart. “Don’t try to distract me, Bond. There’s no way you were leaving me behind, not on purpose.”
The sound of springs echoes softly down the line, and a thump as she must throw herself back on her bed. “That’s pretty arrogant of you to assume, I might just be a total fucking bitch. Fuck, it doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t talk about any of it, no matter how nice you are.”
The fun sizzles out as her tone shifts to miserable again, and I start planning how exactly I’m going to murder the Dravens for this shit. “Okay, fuck this, I’m booking a flight right now.”
"You can’t, they'll only hold that against me as well. Just… maybe we can just call and text sometimes? It would be nice to talk to someone who doesn't… hate me, I guess."
I chuckle down the line at her, focusing entirely on the part where she wants to talk to me and ignoring the bit where the rest of those assholes are obviously treating her terribly because otherwise, I’m flying over there and killing them all. "Yeah, I'd like to get to know my Bond. This way we can do it without all of the sex getting in the way, though I have to admit, I'm a lothappier knowing I'm not the only one missing out. I'd rather they all stay pissed at you so I can taste you first."
She makes a little sound, a gasp she mostly smothers, and I settle back in my bed, an easy smile stretching over my lips. I want to hear that sound again, and a million more, I want to spend the rest of my life teasing them out of her until she’s as gone on me as I am on her. I can be patient. I can wait this out, because my Bond is worth it all.
FIVE
GRYPHON
Oleander Fallows doesn’t just lie with the sort of ease that comes from dutiful practice, she’s a natural at the art of crafting a story so perfect it’s as if she believes it herself. Everything about her is a carefully constructed half-truth, an omission, or a bold-faced lie. She’s wrapped in avoidance and deflection, eagerly dealing out vitriol and attitude the moment any of her Bonds get within earshot, and none of it ever seems taxing to her, but all of that isn’t even the worst of the trouble I’m quickly falling into.
My stomach doesn’t revolt at the sound of her deception.
The taste of lies has always been intolerable to me, enough so that I’ve cut people out of my life based entirely on how often they lie, even tiny dishonesties that wouldn’t even register to others, and yet hearing dozens of them from her daily during my surveillance duties on campus does nothing to change my opinions of her. If anything, my bond only falls further into a manic sort of desperation to be near her.
It's not that I've suddenly formed a taste for them, I could still puke at the lingering bitter ash on my tongue, but without any conscious decision on my part, all of the distaste my incidental Gift usually fills me with is aimed at whoever she’s speaking to.
It makes no sense to me.
Worse still, I’m sure North only agreed with my decision to shadow her myself on campus because he hoped I’d pick up on something to explain any of the mysteries surrounding our Bond, but his plan doesn’t just fail.
It backfires spectacularly.
Watching every Gifted in the freshman class gawk at her, giggling and murmuring to one another, then snickering about the spectacle Nox made of my Bond, it all pushes me to my absolute limits. Fuck, it pushes me beyond the limits I thought I had. I’m quickly discovering I was underestimating myself there, but regardless, my patience is wearing thin before the week is out.
North and I were already friends when he brought his long-lost brother home after his father's death. My parents’ Bonded Group all come from Top Tier families, and my father's position within the Tactical Teams made me a natural choice for companionship for Nolan Draven’s son. As cold and clinical as it sounds, that’s the exact way the families within the council cultivate their own friendships and their children’s play dates from birth.
It also means I’m one of the very small number of people who are perfectly aware of the trauma that still lives and breathes within Nox Draven. It’s the only thing saving him right now, and even that won’t keep up for much longer.
After a week of blowing off all of our usual hangouts, including going to the bar after the council meeting that I’ve never skipped out on before, I text Nox to meet me at the gym to spar and his answer is instant.
I didn’t think you had time in your pathetic stalking schedule to put up with me any longer.