Blood Bonds (The Bonds that Tie Book 3)

I WAKE up with a stiff neck and an aching ass from the chair. It’s frustrating that my body has already forgotten how to sleep sitting up like this, especially since I slept in my car a lot while I was on the run as well, but months at the Draven mansion have spoiled me, apparently.

I groan under my breath and shift as much as the restraints will let me, wiggling my legs out to attempt to get some feeling back with little success.

“How the fuck did you actually sleep like that? And how has no one killed you yet for how badly you snore?” Kieran snarks from the ground at my feet where he’s still huddled up, his hands resting awkwardly on his chest.

I yawn as I shrug. “I don’t usually snore, this is extenuating circumstances, and you learn to do a lot of shit in this place. How long have you been awake?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Long enough to know that the sun rose at least two hours ago, and we’ve missed the breakfast round. It smelled like bacon. I thought about waking you just to get some.”

I scoff at him with a grin, rolling my shoulders back and staring right at the camera so they can see I’m awake. Being a VIP here has its perks, and I’ll take the sleep in. Gryphon never let me have them, and hopefully it’ll mean less time with that man today.

Doubt it, but a girl can hope, right?

“Stop grumping, they’ll bring us something.”

He pulls himself up into a sitting position without using his hands at all, like he’s doing a crunch in hard mode, and it makes me miss Gabe and Gryphon like a hole in my chest. I’ve drooled over the both of them doing that about a million times in TT and training. Shirtless too, which I really shouldn’t think about or my bond will start whining about getting them back.

“If they bring us slop, I’ll remember it and get you back once we’re home. Mark my words. Tell me why they leave you to sleep and feed you so well? Just because you’re a Render? That seems like an even better reason to deprive and torture you.”

I wiggle my toes in my shoes, trying not to think about how stinky my socks will be in there, and my ass starts to get some feeling back. “They want me whole, undamaged, and at peak performance. I get tortured here plenty, just not like that. I’m sure you’ll get to see it so just, like… prepare yourself for that. It’s going to suck.”

He stares at me and then says slowly, like I’m dense, “Suck… That’s the best descriptive word you can come up with for actual torture? Is this a coping mechanism or something?”

“I compartmentalize like a pro and, well, you’ll see once it happens. Davies won’t make us wait for it for long. He never could keep his hands off of me.”

I’m saved from having to explain much more than that to him by breakfast arriving. Both of the women I’d seen when I’d first woken up bring the plates in, except this time, the younger one is more subdued. She doesn’t speak to either of us. When she leans down to hand Kieran his plate, I see the scratches and bruises forming on her cheek.

Once she’s loosened my restraints and hands me my plate, I jerk my head at her and ask, “Fighting in the camps? Or did someone smack you around for your smart mouth? You should probably learn to keep it shut.”

Her lip curls at me, but the older woman butts in, “Don’t answer her, Zarah. We’re not supposed to talk to her. She’s just fishing for information. We’ll leave them to eat our food that we’re being so kind as to share with them.”

I scoff at her and Zarah looks as though she’s going to snarl something at me again, but the older woman snaps her fingers and they both walk out.

Kieran, who hadn’t spoken but watched the entire interaction keenly, breaks off a piece of bread to dip into the egg yolks and then mumbles around his mouthful, “Something happened last night. It was a long time before dawn, probably closer to midnight. Lots of yelling and screaming. I was surprised you slept through it all. There were enough footsteps that whatever happened, they called in for backup. I didn’t hear Davies specifically, but Franklin was there to stop any gifts in the mix.”

I nod and get to work on my own plate of eggs, dipping the bacon in the yolks because I wasn’t given any cutlery to eat with so I’m making do.

Kieran grunts and says, “Are there fights here a lot? Have you ever been in them? I thought you were green when you started at TT.”

I huff at him, because of course he wants to talk about it and not just stuff our faces. “There’s usually beatings and ambushes in the shower stalls, all sorts of shit you don’t want to hear. Fighting where the Resistance gets hurt? I’ve only seen it happen once before, and the guy who managed to get the hit in was put on the rack… publicly. They’re really good at making you watch people die in terrible ways here.”

He nods slowly, scraping up the rest of his eggs with the last little hunk of bread, and then says, “We’re getting you in therapy when we get back. I’ll make sure they all know how much you need it.”

Over my dead body.

I don’t know why I feel so adamant about that. Talking through my issues would probably be for the best, but my bond in my chest instantly rejects the very idea of it.

“And what about you? Are you going to go talk to someone about getting the shit kicked out of you by Resistance assholes?” I mumble. To my surprise, he nods.

“All TacTeam operatives have mandated counseling sessions. Every last person who serves has to go to debriefs with their higher-ups and then a minimum of monthly sessions with an appointed psychologist.”

What the fuck?

North and Nox both work in Teams when there’s a need. Do they both go as well? Why do I suddenly want to burst into inappropriate giggles at the very thought of Nox sitting there talking about his feelings? I mean, if any of my Bonds needs therapy, it’s that one.

I actually do giggle as the image of North lying on a couch, talking about his day, filters into my brain. How the hell would that go? The greatest control freak I’ve ever encountered just… spilling his guts to some suit.

I wonder if his psychologist is a man?

Oh my God. North has without a doubt fucked his female psychologist. He totally would. He’d bone her so he didn’t have to talk about shit.

“What the fuck are you thinking about, Fallows? Rein it in!” Kieran hisses, breaking me out of my spiraling descent into madness. My eyes haven’t shifted, but when I glance down at him, I can see the hair on his arms standing up and the whites of his eyes are bright as he freaks the hell out.

I blow out a breath and slow my racing heartbeat down as best as I can, murmuring, “Sorry. Shit, sorry. I just… I’m starting to lose it, being away from… being here. Fuck, I’ll stop doing that.”

He watches me carefully, almost gently, like he’s handling a bomb with a hair-trigger, and that’s the exact moment that the women decide to come back for our plates. Neither of them say a word as they grab them but when they stalk out, it’s only a minute before they’re back, carrying a bucket of soapy water and a pile of clothes each.

Ugh.

Wash time.

Zarah puts the bucket down in the center of the tent and snaps, “The showers are out of commission for a few days, but since you’re both our important guests here, you’re getting access to water and clean clothes. Strip and get to it, you both have places to be.”

Another piece of the puzzle for us both to stew on; the fight happened in the showers. It’s warm enough wherever the hell we are that it’s going to be a sweaty, stinking nightmare here soon if they don’t get it repaired and back in action in the next few days.

“Wash him first, I’m happy enough to wait,” I say, jerking my head at where Kieran is at my feet.

I need to get him a chair.

Or a Healer.

“Why can’t you both just do it together? You’re Bonds, right?”

I roll my eyes at her and gesture between us. “You really want my bond getting an eyeful of what he’s offering and wanting to complete the Bond? You know what? Hell yeah! I’ll probably end up strong enough to pull your souls out through your nostrils, even with Franklin here. Go on, Bond. Get your pants off for me.”

Kieran smirks, putting on the cockiest demeanor as he pushes himself up onto his knees and reaches for his pants zipper. I give him serious kudos in my head for playing along with me without question.

The older woman darts in front of me, getting the closest to touching me as she has this entire time, and waves her hands around. “No! No, turn around. Both of you face the opposite directions. Zarah, get the Render another bucket.”

Thank God that one worked.

I mean, I’m not scared of seeing Kieran naked, but I don’t know how to explain that to Gryphon and I’ve had just enough of a taste of his jealousy before to know that he wouldn’t take it well. Even if it was his second-in-command and for a really good reason.

I’m surprised at how much I truly care. Me, not my bond. I don’t want to upset Gryphon or any of the rest of them by looking at another naked man. Jesus, this Bond shit is unbelievable because six months ago, I would’ve gone to an all-male strip club just to mess with them, and now the very thought of that gives me hives.

The guys all better feel like this or I’m going to castrate the lot of them.

After my restraints are loosened, I get up and let Zarah cut my shirt away from my body, but I lose my pants myself. I refuse to let them take my underwear off and I use the washcloth to scrub around them.

I can hear Kieran washing up behind me, but there’s no other sounds from outside the tent to alarm me, so I just focus on my scrubbing.

“If she’s been here before, where’s her scars? You said she got the same,” Zarah murmurs, and the older woman grunts under her breath.

I can’t help but play with her, but it also works in my favor for this stupid woman to be unsure of me, so I let my eyes shift to black and snark out, “You ask too many questions. No wonder you got smacked around. Too bad they didn’t do a decent job of it.”

The older woman slowly lowers her bucket to the ground and then fumbles at her waistband until she pulls a coms handpiece out, pressing a button and murmuring, “Her eyes have gone black again. How should we proceed?”

I grin slowly, showing off my teeth in a very predatory way, and Kieran turns his head, not enough to see me, but just so he can get a bit more of an idea of what’s happening behind him.

There’s a static sound down the handpiece and then Davies’ voice comes through loud and clear.

“Get them dressed and bring them to my work space. If her bond wants to play, then I’m ready for her.”

Six heavily armored guards escort me through the camps while Kieran is dragged between two others, his leg still not holding any of his weight. I’m going to have to get crafty about finding him a Healer and getting it patched up, or at the very least, in working order again.

He’s kind of a dead weight right now, and dead weights just become plain old dead in this hellhole. I’ve worked too damn hard to keep him alive for the asshole to die because of a snapped freaking leg.

This camp is bigger than the last one I’d been in with Sage and Gabe, but from what I can see, it’s smaller than the one I was held in for the longest time during my two year stay with Davies. When we walk past the shower block, I count eight different guards standing around the perimeter.Two of them are using their gifts to study the grass and canvas like they are about to find a giant sign spelling out what happened there overnight.

I have a few guesses on what actually happened, but I’m still sort of hoping I’m wrong.

There is an entire section of smaller tents that the guards and grunt workers all camp in. They separate Davies from the sheep. It’s very strategic of him to make sure that he’s never going to be caught unaware overnight by an escapee, but I’m surprised he’s keeping Kieran and me so far away.

I used to sleep in the tent over from him.

It was literally my worst nightmare, and it took a full year on the run before I stopped waking up in a puddle of sweat and panic. Thank God I was past it before I had to start sharing my bed with my Bonds. I couldn’t have hidden that from Gryphon’s gift. He would absolutely have ‘tripped’ over those feelings with his Neuro-snooping ways.

God, I miss him.

I miss North’s caring and domineering ways, Atlas’ complete acceptance and love for me, and Gabe’s loyalty to me, kind and savage and sure.

I even miss worrying about Nox’s loathing and his dream-like bed with a hundred nightmares keeping watch over us both, and I fucking miss Brutus like a hole in my heart.

“For the infamous IW, you look kind of pathetic,” the guy holding my arm says. I shrug at him, because if I’m going to be stuck dealing with these assholes, then I might as well have some fun with it.

“It doesn’t really matter how I look though, does it? You’ll still be the first to die when I take this camp. Next will be mouthy Zarah. Then, whoever the fuck broke my Bond’s leg will go next. He kinda needs it to keep up with me.”

The guy scoffs, but the older, bigger guard beside him smacks him on the back of his head and snaps, “For a Neuro, you’re pretty stupid, Cam. She was taking out more people than an atomic bomb at fourteen. Shut your mouth before it gets you killed the minute Franklin gets sent out.”

Cam scoffs some more, puffing his chest out and putting some extra swagger in his step like he’s a big man, but he doesn’t say anything else. No one else tries to speak, and they all clutch at their weapons as we walk through the busy camp. There’s a lot of people bustling around but they scatter away from us with either looks of concern or outright fear.

This is how I know that I really am a monster, no matter what my Bonds have to say otherwise.

When we reach Davies’ tent, we stop outside while the older guard steps in first, probably to announce our arrival and get orders on where to put us, and I take a second to glance back at Kieran and check out how he’s faring with all of the movement.

The answer to that is not well at all.

His usually tanned skin is sallow looking. There’s a fine sheen of sweat over his forehead, and even with his mouth in a firmly controlled line, he looks like he’s about to pass out.

I turn back to face the mouthy young guard again and say in a quiet, low tone, “If he dies from that broken leg, I will trigger every last one of your darkest nightmares until your brain breaks down inside your skull. I’ll use every single trick that Davies tortured into me to prolong your death until you die writhing.”

He gulps.

I’m starting to get addicted to that response.

I hear the tent flap pull back again and then I hear his voice say, “Who would’ve known that all it would take to bring out the darkness in you would be to have your Bonds here too? You delight me, little Render.”

Don’t react to him, Oli. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you hate having his approval.

The young guard snaps to attention and jerks me forward, acting as though he wasn’t just shitting himself over my words, and he directs me into Davies’ work space. We should count our blessings that it’s this one and not his actual torture tent, but now isn’t the time to point that out to Kieran.

It’s easily five times bigger than the tent we were being kept in and there’s lights hanging from the higher ceiling, making the space bright and inviting. It’s all a farce, the careful way that Davies plans out everything to seem as though he’s a good and decent man and not the utter freaking sadist he is.

There’s a wooden desk at one end of the space near an operating table, complete with restraints and stirrups. I glance over to see Kieran scowling at it. When he meets my eyes, there’s a question there that I can’t really answer right now. He’s probably coming up with all sorts of ideas about what happens on that table, and I’m sure that at least half of them will be correct.

Davies steps back up to his tool desk and then sweeps a dramatic hand towards the table. “Help our guest up onto the table, and leave her broken Bond over at the restraint point where he can observe all of my hard work.”

I walk over myself, not giving the guards the satisfaction of dragging me, and even though it’s awkward with my restraints, I climb up onto the table. They’re extra cautious when they tie me down, securing the new straps on before they remove the old ones, and I want to scream at them because of course I’m not going to do anything.

Davies is without a doubt stronger than I am. I’m not a freaking idiot.

“No, you’re not. They’re all going to underestimate you, little Render. They’re all going to look at you and see some pretty little girl forever. The only reason they look so worried is because I’ve missed you, you know? When you ran from me… the things I did to the men and women who let you escape, well, it’s become a bit of a legend around here. They don’t understand your power, what you can do… You really will be my weapon, just as soon as I’ve collected all of your Bonds. How many were there again?”

Nothing.

I think of nothing and I pray Kieran is smart enough to think of nothing as well. We might be screwed here, but I can keep—no, don’t let him in, Oli, fuck—nothing.

There’s nothing.

Davies tuts at me, lifting off the top of his desk to reveal what he keeps inside it. I can’t see it from the angle I’m lying at, but I don’t need to. I already know what’s in there, and if he’s brought in anything new… I don’t need to freak myself out over it.

“I have acquired some new tools. I can’t wait to show them to you, but we have time. No matter what your Bond is thinking about getting you out of here, we both know you can’t. I’ve made better plans. Franklin is staying here with you from now on. Did you tell your Transporter that Franklin is also stronger than you are? For now. I’m sure that once I find all of your Bonds, you’ll be stronger than him. I have so many plans for you, but let’s stop talking and start with the fun, shall we?”

He snaps his fingers and the guards all finally clear out, leaving Kieran chained to the restraint point at the other end of the tent where he can see everything that Davies is about to do to me.

Fuck, I hope he has a strong stomach, because shit is about to get rough.