Page 65 of These Fractured Bonds

“Out,” she said, too quietly. In a louder voice, she repeated herself. “Everybody out!”

They looked at her, surprised, but to their credit, they didn’t protest. Bri patted her shoulder, grabbing Leo by his arm to yank him along. He looked ready to argue again, and Yareli knew she had to nip his behavior in the bud.

“Leo, stay.”

She pretended not to see the smug look he gave Augrys. To her relief, Augrys gave no reaction. He did, however, avoid her gaze, and that stung. She would later clarify that she wasn’t taking sides; she needed to talk to Leo. Erick followed him, and she caught the tail end of his whisper to Augrys.

“… general’s meeting.”

Leo sat on the stool next to her bed. When the door clicked shut, he pounced, asking, “Why must you go to the council? What inspired this madness?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes at his melodrama, but she held back her irritation because he was concerned for her. “It isn’t madness. Do I need to have a reason to go? Can’t I go because I want to?”

“That’s something you say for things like going on a walk, going on a hunt, or picking up a new hobby, not a risky excursion to a den full of wolves.”

“I have to go. I can’t sit here idly waiting to be rescued.” She paused and decided she would trust him with the partial truth. “I can’t explain it, but I have a feeling that I need to go. Something is waiting for me.”

He shook his head; all the anger he had displayed earlier was gone, replaced by frustration.

She tried again. “I need you to trust me.”

“I do, but you can’t expect me to support a harebrained idea based on a feeling you have.”

That hurt.

“I’m going to go, and that’s final. You can sulk, or you can help me prepare for the capital. The choice is yours.”

He stood, startling her, and paced the room. “Don’t you understand?”

She was tired of being confused, of his stormy behavior. She missed the days of their easygoing friendship, where it was thrilling every time he toed the line with her. It was like they had skipped the honeymoon phase and gone straight to fighting, even though they weren’t a couple.

“Understand what?” she asked, letting her frustration bleed into her voice.

He marched to her, and she watched him with narrowed eyes, unsure of what he wanted. An argument? A discussion to finally settle whatever it was between them? She had a feeling this was no longer about her decision to go to the council. It was about them.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly.

It was the saddest she had ever heard him, but her confusion only grew. If he liked her, if she liked him, then what was the big deal?

“I don’t,” she cried out, lifting her hands into the air. “How can I if one day you’re practically kissing me and the next you’re withdrawn like a surly child?”

He closed his eyes, clearly struggling with some inner conflict that she was not privy to. Without warning, he took hold of her face and kissed her.

He tasted exactly like she imagined he would—of smoke and embers. His heat surged through her, blazing through her veins like a wildfire, and she kissed him back, eager tofinallyknow what it meant to be consumed. She groaned as his lips demanded, biting the bottom of her lip, tugging until she gave him access to her mouth. His tongue pushed against hers, sending a thrill to her toes.

His fingers slipped under her T-shirt, leaving goose bumps on her skin as they made their way toward her breasts. She arched her back, eager for more. Her senses overflowed with him, and she moaned against his mouth. He pulled away, peppering kisses down to her neck where his tongue ran across her skin, leaving little doubt about his skill inthatarea, and she clutched at his shirt. She wanted more—everything—but he abruptly stopped, resting his forehead on hers.

“Do you understand now?” he whispered, sounding breathless. “Youare my problem.”

After the intensity of their make-out session—because that was what it was—Yareli hadn’t expected those to be his first words. She had expected the opposite; something along the lines of: “I want you. I like you. I want you to be mine.” Not an accusatory statement sayingshewas the problem. She let her hurt fuel her words.

“If I’m such a problem, then I propose we put an end to this.” She waved her hands between them. “Because I’m not going to beg you, Leo. Either you tell me what problemIsupposedly created for you, or we bury this.”

He paced the room again, his hands on his hips. His brilliant, white hair swayed in its ponytail.

“I want you, and that’s the problem,” he snapped.

“How is that a problem? I want you too.”