Page 225 of Caged

And I hated it.

All I wanted to do was luxuriate in our Bond, but I couldn’t. I watched that little flame guttering out, flickering up and down our Bond like it was barely stable, and terror pushed me to act.

So I threw up an onyx monstrosity that acted as a barrier between us and held it in place with nothing but sheer willpower.

And Idril? She kept trying to break it down. She slammed against the wall like a moth battering against a pane of glass, over and over. Until she finally stopped. I watched that flame sink back into our Bond, but I could have sworn it did so with resignation.

Stubborn girl.

I can feel the Bonds with my packmates, too, but those are muted. Like wisps of a thread that are still strong, but nearly see-through. I’m not worried about them. They’ll be fine.

I’m worried about my Mate. I can’t touch our Bond with the wall up, but I can watch it.

Which is how I verified that it’s not a single thread like my pack Bond is. It’s two threads, twined together.

One is silver. Strong and pulsing. The other is gold and thin. I recognize the shimmering warmth of it—our Scent Match Bond.

The silver thread is thicker, denser, and thrums like it has its own heartbeat. It almost completely overshadows the golden thread. I know it’s not the Blood Mate Bond, which is a dense, burgundy thread—I haven’t tasted her blood. Yet.

So what the hell is it?

All the time in the world to think, and no fucking answers.

Idril’s blood containing unknown magical properties, is the only big difference between her and, well, everyone else. I keep circling back to that, wondering if it has something to do with this Bond.

That’s a mindfuck, too. The blood I found in Varenthrall’s study is Idril’s.

Our Mate’s.

The thing is, I don’t even care about what she is or why she’s different. I’m more concerned about what her piece of shit father is doing with her blood. He all but villain-monologued himself to death in that basement, but he didn’t provide me with any concrete answers.

I need out of here so I can talk to my pack.

Well… after I lock myself away with Idril for twenty-four hours. At the very least.

I sigh, letting my head fall back, enjoying the way the treebark scrapes against my scalp.

“What the fuck are you?” I murmur, staring into the branches of the tree. Not that anyone is listening.

Just me, the foliage, and the birds I can hear but can’t see. Another oddity in a long list of them.

I let my eyes wander, watching the play of the shadows from leaves across the near-perfect trunk of the tree.

A twig cracks above me. Something shifts in the air.

I stiffen.

In all the time I’ve been here—days? Weeks? Months?—nothing has ever moved on its own. Not even leaves fall off the trees. It’s such an out-of-place sound that it puts me on alert.

I stand, peering into the branches, searching for what made the sound.

The wind stills. Like a switch has flipped, the near-constant warmth pressing against my skin vanishes. The birds chirping in the trees go silent. The leaves stop rustling. Every sound, every movement, just… stops.

What the fuck is going on?

My muscles tense, and I spin, preparing for an attack.

Wrong. Something is wrong.