Page 77 of A Sweet Destruction

That was, until someone appeared in the edge of my vision. A woman, I could vaguely make out.

“I have to say, though I wasn’t initially happy with the idea of a visit from some Virterrans coming to visit, my mind has changed,” she said, voice drawn out and syrupy.

Something had gone tight in Esme’s shoulders and I wasn’t about to turn away and miss what had caused it. “Yeah, and why’s that?” I asked passively.

“How could it not, when I didn’t realize what a…treat it would be.” The open innuendo in her voice forced me to turn towards her so she understood I was serious when I shut this down.

When I did, I found a shorter woman with severe black hair blinking up at me.

"We’re here on business,” I said carefully, making sure there was not an ounce of emotion on my face. Just then, a frothy cup of coffee slid across the bar. Perfect. “Now, would you excuse me?”

I stepped away, only to be stopped by her hand on my arm. It was years of practice, and nothing less, than kept my face from pinching in pain.

This woman had barely touched my arm, and yet it shot a bolt of lightning through my body.

Esme had been severely understating how much the Bond could make you hurt if someone else touched you.

"Running away already?” the woman said with a pout, unconcerned that I was shaking off her touch.

“With all due respect,” I said, though my tone didn’t reflect it, “my paranima is standing over there. I’d like to return to her.”

She waived a hand dismissively, holding up a giant middle finger to the Bond. The entity that lived inside the majority of her people since birth. That was inside her, if the tattoo on her shoulder was to be believed.

Something in my expression made her light up with an odd sort of giddiness. “Oh, are you going to live up to legend? I heard your lot are quite passionate.”

I didn’t care to continue this conversation, not when I could feel Esme’s eyes on me. I turned to find her pushing away from her chair.

“Yes,” I said, none too softly. “About that woman walking towards us. Who, I might add, does not look happy.”

Her eyes shifted to Esme, raking down her with an unimpressed look until she got to her hand, her expression immediately dropping and her eyes blowing wide.

She’d seen the same Mark on me, but it was like it didn’t register until she saw its twin on Esme’s. “I…I—” she stuttered, unable to get anything out, her body locking up in fear.

“Hello,” Esme said, with not even remotely the tone I was expecting. Disappointment curled through my stomach. I couldn’t help it. I was excited to hear her voice laced with possession. “I wanted to,” she swallowed, then her jaw pulsed once. “Introduce myself.” Those words, sounding like they were spoken with a throat ravaged by sickness. “I’m Esme.”

What. Was. Happening? How was she so calm right now?

I wanted to throw her over my shoulder just to make it very clear who she was to me.

The woman’s blinks stuttered and so did her stance, her legs wobbling back and forth. “I…uh, we were just talking,” the woman, who’s name I’d still yet to learn, finally got out.

“Okay,” Esme said, her voice that same measured, practiced calm.

In fact, clearly Esme had practiced this. Suddenly, I needed to know what was hiding under all that control. Now, preferably.

“Am I needed somewhere?” I asked Esme, apparently deciding to play with fire. And fire it certainly was. The heat in her eyes as she whipped her attention towards me was enough to singe my eyebrows right off.

“Apologies for interrupting,” she gritted out, her molars visibly grinding together.

“You weren’t interrupting anything,” the woman rushed out.

“Did I misunderstand you?” I asked, trying to find the mind to feel guilty about playing this whole interaction up.

Esme’s answering scoff might as well have been a slap across the woman’s face. Her expression screwed up in pain and her hands came up to her side in surrender. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Esme’s cheeks pinched in a quick smile before dropping down into that same pleasant expression. Only I knew her well enough to look down at her hands, finding her playing with one of her rings. “I understand.”

Apparently, that wasn’t enough assurance, because the woman rushed out, “I’m serious. Please don’t…slap me or something,” a second later.