Page 20 of Inextricably Tied

Flint’s growl vibrates the end table, lamp teetering close to the edge. Agony’s eyes brighten, setting Flint’s furious face awash in a yellow glow.

“Come on, you can do worse than that.” Agony’s tongue slips out, laving against Flint’s hand. “Tighter.”

Something in Flint begs to be set loose. To lose control, to slam Agony into the wall over and over. Agony wants to draw out that danger. To see it, taste it, run his tongue over the fear and terror spiking beneath the vicious rage.

But Flint doesn’t rise to it. He raises his hand until Agony can’t look anywhere but his face.

“If you so much as let the thought of harming her pass through your empty fucking head — if I even suspect you’re entertaining it…” Flint’s breath is hot on Agony’s face. “I will make your nightmares look like a fantasy. I will rip these pathetic shadows to pieces. I don’t need the OID to do it for me.”

Agony wants more. Wants to tap into Flint’s anger waiting for someone to stoke it, but the embers in Flint’s eyes fade. His breathing slows. He drops Agony to the ground, chair stuttering back on four legs.

Already, Flint’s back to Harbinger, softening the gruff scrape of his voice as he looks over her neck. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her eyes stay on Agony, fingers rubbing the circle of her throat.

“That was a cute trick you pulled,” Agony jeers. “Using your power to overwhelm me. That was clever —”

“Shut the fuck up,” Flint snarls. It’s almost enough to goad him again, to draw him into losing it. Instead, he yanks a washcloth from the folded linens and stuffs it into Agony’s mouth. It has the desired effect; Agony can’t work the rag out between his lips, and Flint’s shoulders finally relax.

His touch is so much gentler as he inspects Harbinger. The claws that were clamped around Agony’s throat now retract, tracing the bones protruding at Harbinger’s collar. Small bruises already start to form. Flint looks torn between wrath and remorse before he finally lets his hand drop back to his side.

“You should go to bed. I’ll watch him.”

“But you’ve been driving —”

“I’m not going to leave you alone with him.” Flint brushes her hair back into place. “And I don’t need as much sleep. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep, anyway.” But she gives in, shooting Agony one last glare before she disappears into the bedroom.

The look she gives him isn’t hate. Well: not just hate. Agony can’t decipher her baffled expression when he reaches for the strands of their connection. Flint sets up on the couch across from the dent in the wall, between Harbinger’s bedroom and Agony. Agony’s sneer slices across his face. “You can’t protect her everywhere.”

“Try me.”

So Agony does. But he doesn’t get a chance to delve into Harbinger’s dreams, disrupted by Flint any time Agony looks a little too relaxed. The chair loses any sense of comfort after the first hour. Agony’s physical body took more of Flint’s beating than Agony’s used to. He’s stiff and sore, rolling his neck and shutting his eyes to escape Flint’s venomous hatred.

Agony doesn’t need Harbinger’s dreams to know she’s not sleeping. The line between them is frantic with static, pins and needles of restlessness as she tosses and turns. None of them sleep. Flint doesn’t take his eyes off of Agony. Doesn’t seem to blink until the sun peeks through the curtains, giving Agony all the attention he instigated.

It’s a long night. Longer morning. And the day’s just getting started.

SEVEN

Flint

Flint couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. Not after Agony got that close to Harbinger, as if he’d been planning it since the second they touched. Flint needs to be more careful. More rigorous. Add double fail-safes to the links in Agony’s chains, check the knots twice to be sure it’s safe.

Because if anything happens to Harbinger…

This whole thing was a bad fucking idea, a slippery slope that has them careening toward certain death. Bringing the night terror was a mistake, but Flint let Harbinger talk him into it. Gods only know what the alternative would’ve been. Harbinger in agonizing pain while the OID experimented on the night terror with no way for Flint to help her. Or worse: Harbinger going on this harebrained mission by herself, left at the mercy of that thing.

There’s no way Flint would let that happen.

He should have been more careful at the OID. Shouldn’t have taken the meeting in the first place. Should have known they’d force Harbinger and him into a corner. Should have gotten her out of there as soon as it happened.

But he let his intuition lapse. Again.

It’s her decision.

The reminder is true, no matter how much it pains him. Psychometry is her ability. Her body that’s affected. Her choice to bring Agony, even if there wasn’t much choice to begin with. But it’s not just her that has to deal with the consequences; Flint’s anxious need to keep her from harm means he’s suffering for it, too.