Page 39 of Shadowed Bond

For one moment, there is nothing but the pull between us and the sound of our pounding hearts filling the silence.

Then panic crawls up my throat like rage.

I shove myself up too fast, forcing space between us as if distance can cut through fate, removing my arm from her waist, and Charlotte pushes herself upright at the same time, though she moves more slowly than usual, one hand pressing against the ground to steady herself. She reaches for her leg, snapping her foot into position. My throat dries, and I almost reach to help her, but then she speaks.

“Ares…” she says, and fuck, I hate the way my name sounds in her voice now. Softer, different, intimate, like her voice is made to say it.

No.

I get to my feet, ignoring the way my leg burns and the way the world tilts for half a second. We had lain in that poisoned water until it had seeped away through the cracks. It had been far too long; I had swum in and out of the brink of consciousness, keeping my body rigged over hers. It had weakened us both greatly.

But pain is easier to deal with than shit like this. It’s better than the feeling now pulling through my chest towards Charlotte, like it has every right to be there, and it doesn’t.

She stands too, slowly, jaw gritted with pain, as she watches me intently.

“Say something,” she says quietly.

Wrong thing to ask.

I look at her, at the mud on her clothes, the blood in her hair, the moonlight catching the edge of her face, and my wolf presses forward with a low, possessive snarl that makes my hands curl into fists. She still looks fucking good.

I hate it.

I hate how fast it is.

How certain.

How my body has already decided before my mind has had the chance to refuse.

“No,” I say.

Her expression changes, her heart rate quickening. She stiffens, and I can see my words cut through her.

“No?” she repeats. Her voice holds that sharp composure she possesses, but the slight tremble gives her away.

“No,” I growl, sharper this time. Because if I stop, if I think, if I let myself hear the hurt already beginning to form beneath her controlled voice, I might do something stupid like apologise. “I don’t need this.”

The bond tugs in my chest, my wolf howling, almost punishing me for the words.

“This?” she asks quietly.

“Mates,” I snap, and the word comes out ugly. “A bond. Fate deciding shit for me like I don’t already have enough chains around my fucking throat!”

Her eyes harden, but beneath it, there is something else, something quieter that I do not want to name.

“I didn’t choose this either,” she replies coldly.

“Yeah, well, you wanted your precious Blood Moon, didn’t you?” I ask, letting out a humourless laugh because I can feel myself losing control, and apparently, my mouth has decided to make it worse. “Congratulations, Princess. You got what you came for.”

The words hit her hard. I see it, even if she’s doing great keeping it together.

Her face doesn’t crumple. She is not fragile enough for that, and she doesn’t get riled up either. I wish she did, though, because anger would be easier to face than the way she now lifts her chin and pulls every piece of herself back into place with that perfect Arden control of hers.

“That was unnecessary,” she says, with a contemptuous once-over as if speaking to a fucking kid.

“It was the truth,” I growl.

“No,” she replies, voice softer now, which somehow cuts worse. “That was just your fear getting the better of you. I know how you looked at me, Ares, before the bond snapped into place.”