Page 22 of Broken Ties
“If you’re planning on hurting yourself to get my attention regularly, I should warn you that I’ll be happy to throw you in a padded cell until you grow out of the compulsion.”
She blinks at me, gaping for a second before her temper ignites and she takes the bait beautifully. “I know you’re not here to ream me out right now over some bitch taking a cheap swing at me. I know you wouldn’t be here for that because if you are, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
When she struggles to sit up, my eyes narrow as she clutches a hand gingerly to her head. I can’t see anything there, but her skin turns a sickeningly green hue and she swallows convulsively.
There’s a trash can in the corner of the room, but I force myself to stay put. Goading information out of her only works if she’s pushed to her limits, and I’ll only be helping her continue her games if I treat her the way my own bond is demanding me to.
Would she even accept my help when she’s made it very clear she wants nothing from any of us?
With a hoarse tone, she still manages to snap at me viciously, “Why would I wait until the last quarter mile to pull a stunt like that? Why would I wade through the river, crawl on my belly over rocks and dirt, and climb that stupid, stinking frame if I was planning on… wait, what exactly do you think I did to knock myself out? Jesus fucking Christ.”
Flinging an arm dramatically, her face pales even further and she slumps forward in the bed, gagging a little. The soft mewling sound that squeaks out of her is drenched in misery, pitiful and aching, and Ineverwant to hear it ever again.
If I thought fighting my bond was difficult, it’s nothing to the effort it takes to stop myself from helping her now. I almostbreak, but then she lifts her head and the loathing that seethes in the hauntingly blue depths of her eyes, I’m reminded that she probably wouldn't accept it anyway.
My tone is ice cold. “I’m not so easy to fool. You’re desperate for attention and with two of your Bonds present, you couldn’t help yourself.”
Her lip curls at me and, frustratingly, I find that even scorn looks good on her perfect face, though I’d prefer if it were directed at someone other than me. “How was I getting attention from either of them if Gabe ran off ahead of me and Gryphon didn’t even acknowledge my existence?”
Fuck.
My bond doesn’t want her talking about the other Bonds… and after our confrontation, I don’t want it either. There’s nothing I want less than to feel this way, and my frustration could consume me alive. She ran from us all, scorns us at every turn, and acts as though we’re beneath her; she doesn’t deserve a second of my attention, let alone the obsessive fawning my bond so desperately wants to shower her with.
“You should be thanking him. Gryphon had you run the easy course.”
Her face sets to stone as she snaps the blankets back and I find myself staring at all of her legs… the entire, naked length of them. Something very vital breaks in my brain and my focus becomes centered entirely on one question.Why the fuck is she not wearing any pants?!
Apparently unaware of the rapid descent into madness I’m currently experiencing, Oleander stands only to falter for a second, her hand clutching at the bed as though she’s about to keel over. Raising her arm, lifts the hem of her shirt and I find that she is, in fact, wearing a pair of shorts, only they’re too fucking small for her to be wearing to a college class filled with other Gifted, specifically college-agedboys.
When she groans softly, I’m snapped out of my insanity, but I only manage half a step toward her before she’s striding out of the room, brushing me aside like I’mnothing.
I have no intention of trailing after this childish woman like a kicked puppy, so despite the seething fury almost blinding me, I fix a sedate smile on my face as I walk her briskly out to where Rafe is now waiting with the car. When Oleander turns toward the dorms as though she’s going to just leave me behind, I catch her elbow and redirect her.
We’re surrounded by students and TacTeam operatives, so I fight to keep my voice down as I practically hiss at her, “You can’t just storm out whenever you’re called out for toxic behavior.”
She tears her arm out of my grasp with surprising strength—unbelievablestrength—and instantly, my bond responds.
Mine.
She doesn’t notice, her stream of accusations continuing as though she doesn’t care who overhears us. “You’d know a lot about toxic behavior. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t threaten your own damn Bond? That maybe telling me you’ll chain me to your basement probably isn’t the way to go about this whole… mess?”
Her eyes are burning with indignation, flashing dangerously at me, but it’s only when she startles and looks around at the crowd we’re attracting that I hear the murmuring. The gossip and subsequent rumors this little spat is going to spark will surely endanger us all, and that isn't just frustrating, it's intolerable.
I’ve stooped to her childish level.
My lip curls as I get ahold of her arm, my bond thrumming underneath my skin, feeding on the impassioned exchange as though it doesn’t care that we’re at each other’s throat right now.It doesn't care how we get our hands on her, only that she ends up writhing mindlessly in our arms.
Clamping down on such thoughts, I’m forced to physically drag her out of the building, witnesses be damned. “I think that if you hadn’t run away like a selfish, manipulative, childish little girl, we would’ve given you the world. There wasn’t a thing on this earth you could’ve asked for that we would’ve refused you, but now you’re facing the consequences of your actions for what I’m sure is the first time in your life. It is very clear to me that you’ve been nothing but spoiled your whole life and can’t think of anyone but yourself. Clearly your parents?—”
She turns on me so quickly, I’m almost taken aback by the vehemence. “Don’t you fuckingdarespeak about my parents. I will dig the tracker out with my bare hands and be gone, don’t push me.”
Hearing a pointed clearing throat as a car door opens beside us, I shove my Bond into the backseat without another thought. Grimacing, I turn to meet my driver, Rafe’s, concerned gaze, but when I give him a curt shake of my head, he doesn’t question me. I’m sure he has a lot of them, but he’s been with my family for decades, and is one of my most trusted employees. He knows me well enough to know the vicious mood I’m in is certainly not directed at him, and though I’ll apologize to him for my abrupt demeanor, he’s not taking it personally.
My relief lasts as long as it takes for my gaze to settle back on Oleander’s rigid shoulders where she sits waiting for me.
Rafe’s gaze follows mine. “Home, Mr. Draven, or to the student dormitories?”
I’d set my nightmares loose on the entire state for this man for his discretion right now alone. “Home, thank you, Rafe. We don’t want to be late for dinner.”