Page 76 of The Bonds of Indigo

But the moment I sever this bond, he’ll snap back into place—rigid, distant, unmoved. He’ll remember exactly what I am. The slayer he loves to throw in my face. And I’ll be left with the bitter truth: that he stole the only bond that ever truly mattered.

“Because you cannot handle my truth, Butcher. You never will.”

His eyes darken. “You have no idea what I can handle, little slayer.”

I want him to be wrong. But he’s not. What I’ve got going on is unmanageable, and I’m not worth even trying for.

“Goodnight.” I press my palms to his chest and shove him back.

He steps away without a fight, but doesn’t look from my face as he grips the door handle. “You’re going to start telling me the truth. I’m done being nice.”

My jaw drops. Nice?

Sure, shaving my legs was… sweet. But he owed me that much for saving his damn life.

“Good luck with that,” is all I give him. I won’t provoke him. If anything, I’d rather fling myself out this seventh-story window than tempt him into trying.

His lips curl behind his beard, and Gods above—why couldn’t he have been ugly?

“Get some sleep,” he says. Then he’s gone.

Yeah, right.

Yeah, fucking right, BUTCHER!

It’s been a long time since I felt any sort of… need to relieve myself. I wasn’t innocent before I was twenty, though I hadn’t had many years of sexual activity. But I know exactly what this feeling is.

I’ve not been able to get him out of my head since he left, and I’m miserable. Why’d I open that damn door?

Why, Amarah. Whyyyyy?

It’s the bond. It’s that.

How many times am I going to blame it on that?!

I’m so mad at myself. Maybe it isn’t him I hate, but myself. That’s it.

Dragging my hands through my hair, I stare up into the pitch-black ceiling. I’ve shut out every trace of light—pressed a pillow against the door to block the hallway glow, unplugged the clock and phone, even covered the TV’s tiny light. The only reason I’m under the sheet is because I used the heavier blanket to black out the window. Even from this height, the city lights still manage to slip through the curtain’s gaps, and I can’t stand it.

I need to clear my head, but I can’t do that with the thoughts of his hands never stopping on my legs. For his fingers to have wrapped around my throat instead of just my jaw. The feeling of his beard against every sensitive, broken part of my body. What it would feel like between my thighs…

Woah, woah, woah…

Gods, even just that simple thought has my heart racing and heat building in a place it hasn’t in so, so long.

I move my hand down to my stomach, feeling my bare skin under my fingertips. I’m fine, I can fall asleep without doing anything, or I can just quickly take care of this fucking ache.

Though the thought of touching myself feels⁠—

“Amarah.”

“Ahh!” I literally scream. It isn’t quiet either, and it sends goosebumps straight down my body. My fucking nipples harden at how intense and strong that reaction was.

“I heard that from here, and I’m several rooms down.” The deep chuckle that follows has me squeezing my eyes shut and groaning.

Why can’t he just leave me alone?

“You know…” He… sighs, but it’s not as simple as a huff. No, I can feel the desperation behind it. Oh my Gods, please don’t tell me…