Broken Bonds

by Jade Alters

  “Thanks,” he murmurs before picking up his fork to start in on the food. I frown, a little caught off guard by his demeanor, though I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised by it. Still, the silence that stretches between us is painfully awkward, and I try to think of anything for us to talk about.

  “So, um, where are you from?” I ask. It’s a lame question, but it’s the first question that pops into my mind that isn’t completely invasive of his work.

  He still doesn’t look at me, and takes several seconds to actually answer.

  When I start to wonder if he’s just going to blatantly ignore me, he says, “I was in New Orleans before I came here.”

  That’s not really an answer to my question, because the way he words his response makes it seem as though he isn’t actually from New Orleans, but was just there for a temporary time. Still, I suppose any answer is better than no answer.

  “I love New Orleans,” I tell him, keeping my tone chipper. “I’ve visited a few times. It’s such a magical city.”

  He gives me one sharp nod, but doesn’t say anything in return.

  Frustration begins to well up within me. It’s one thing for him to hide from me, but to act as though he can’t tolerate me when I’m right in front of him is just…rude.

  However, I remind myself that he hasn’t been around many people in a long time, and maybe just needs someone to be extra patient with him. So, I try again.

  “All right, well…how about family? Do you have any family in New Orleans? Or anywhere else for that matter?”

  He shrugs. “Not sure.”

  I frown at the strange answer. Not sure? How can he not be sure? Was he not raised by his family? Separated or estranged from them? Maybe he’s adopted?

  More questions just keep popping into my head, but I shove them all away. It’s obvious he doesn’t really want to talk to me, and the idea of trying to draw out any other details about his life just seems like an exhausting enterprise.

  I put my fork down next to my plate with a little more force than I mean to.

  “Did I do something?” I ask, exasperated.

  He finally deems to look up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  I throw my hands up. “Well, clearly there’s something wrong. You’re upset with me, or don’t like me, but I don’t know what I did to make you feel that way toward me. I’m just trying to be friendly, but…but it’s like you can’t stand being around me. Did I do something wrong?”

  He looks confused, which only makes me more frustrated.

  “What do you mean?” he scoffs.

  I gnash my teeth but force my tone to remain calm and reasonable as I answer, “It’s just…you’ve been so cold to me these last few weeks, and I just can’t understand why. I’ve made an effort to stay out of your way, while doing what I can to be friendly and personable. Yet, you still act as though I’m an inconvenience who’s not worth your time. Why? What did I do to make you dislike me so instantly?”

  I can see I’m making him wildly uncomfortable, but I press forward. I feel like we have to have this conversation…at least I do, so I don’t completely lose it.

  He clears his throat and shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine.”

  His movements are as rushed as his words as he shoots to his feet. He moves toward the door, but I’m not ready to let him go. Not yet. I’m going to get him to tell me why he doesn’t seem to like me, and I don’t care how much he resists.

  I push to my feet as well and move to get in his path.

  “Hold on,” I tell him, but he seems intent on ignoring me as he goes to steer around me without pausing. “Dr. Pyrrhos!” I’m not about to be deterred, and I reach out to grab his arm and stop him.

  As gasp escapes my lips as it feels like electricity shoots up my arm and then sizzles through my whole body. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My body starts heating up, and I feel moisture pool between my legs. Dr. Pyrrhos stares down at me, and I think he’s feeling something similar by the dark look in his eyes. He squeezes my hand, and my breathing grows short.

  I can’t explain what’s happening to me, or why I’m reacting so intensely to his touch, but in that moment, I don’t really care about the why of the situation. As that heat continues to rush through me, all I can think about is how badly I want his lips on mine.

  Aleixo

  Damn it. This is what I was afraid of. There’s no denying it now.

  Samantha Reyes is my mate.

  Her touch is all that was needed to fully trigger the bond. Everyone experiences the bond slightly differently but there are common characteristics that serve as signals. Even now, I can feel it working its way through me, coiling through my insides and tightening a chokehold around my heart. It’s at once suffocating and intoxicating. I’m hard in an instant, my body no longer my own. It’s helpless against the instincts screaming to life to take her and claim her and make her mine.

  I fight them, willing myself to turn and walk away from her. To go and cool-off before I do something we’ll likely both regret. Yet, I can’t seem to move. She’s gazing up at me with this look of confused awe that’s so damn tempting…she has no idea what’s going on, and I can only imagine what she must be feeling. It won’t be as strong as what’s happening to me, since she’s a human and not a phoenix, but the sensations and the need coursing through her is no doubt more overwhelming than any regular arousal she’s felt.

  And that’s because she’s mine. Mine. She is only supposed to feel this way for me.

  The thought startles me and nearly brings me back to my full senses. What am I doing? She’s not mine. Just because some animalistic instinct is driving me toward her doesn’t mean I have any right to her.

  This is the problem with the bond. This is why I hate it so much. It steals your freewill and forces choices on you you’d likely never make otherwise. Not that I wouldn’t ever choose Samantha of my own freewill. There’s plenty about her that I find attractive and would be drawn to under normal circumstances. But this isn’t what I want. I don’t want to be forced to be with someone…not again…

  “Dr. Pyrrhos,” she suddenly murmurs, her breathy voice spiking my arousal. “I…I’m feeling a little strange.”

  Gods damnit. She’s making it so difficult to resist her. I can practically smell the need on her, and it’s clouding my reason. I briefly realize that she’s still touching my arm and that I should step out of her reach…yet I don’t. In fact, I find myself leaning into her touch as I continue to stare down into her wide green eyes.

  When her soft, pink lips part and her tongue darts out to lick them, my resistance shatters. I cup the back of her head and the next thing I know, my lips are pressed to hers in a searing kiss that makes her whimper. She lets her mouth open without hesitancy and my tongue sweeps in to tangle with hers. She tastes so good…so sweet…I don’t know how I’ve gone my whole life without knowing this taste.

  Samantha wraps her arms around my neck and clings to me, her body pressing tight against me. She’s lean, but still has soft curves that seem to fit against me so perfectly. My hands slide down to her hips and I hold her flush to me and then begin to back her up toward the table. She doesn’t protest, allowing me to direct her as I see fit. When we reach the table, I wrap my hands around her waist and pick her to sit her down on its surface. Her legs part and I step in between them, never breaking our kiss.

  I can’t help but touch her, running my hands up and down her sides before tangling my fingers in her hair. She moans and arches into me, and her response drags me further and further into the lusty fog filling my mind. I drop my hands to one of her breasts and she gasps, but still, she doesn’t pull away as I palm the soft mound.

  I want her. I want to take her right here and now. She’d let me too, I can tell. She wouldn’t object if I laid her back on the table and began removing her clothes one piece at a time, revealing more and more of
her enticing body. At the thought, my erection starts to grow painful as my desperation intensifies.

  I run my fingers down to the bottom of her shirt and play with it a bit before sliding them underneath to caress the bare skin of her belly. The groan that escapes me is guttural and hungry, and she answers with a soft cry. All my resistance is gone at this point. I’m lost to her, and now I want to be lost in her.

  All other thoughts have gone from my head. I feel her hand caress the front of my pants. Pleasure unlike I’ve ever known shoots through me, and it’s a shock to my system. I groan, pressing my hips forward eagerly for more of her touch.

  If I touch her right now, I’m sure I’ll find her wet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, and lifetimes since I’ve been with one without the oppressive memory of my mate hanging over my head.

  I could just enjoy Samantha right now. . And why shouldn’t I?

  My internal debate is cut short when she begins to stroke me through my pants. My breath hitches and all rational thought shoots from my head. The next thing I know, I’m kissing her again and pushing her back on the table. My hands slide under her shirt and I cup her breasts, and my gods, she’s so soft and supple. Needing to see them, I pull her shirt over her head and make short work of her bra, then stare at her for several long moments.

  “So beautiful,” I murmur before lowering my head and taking one of her nipples into my mouth.

  She gasps. “Oh, yes.”

  I grin and continue laving attention on her breast before moving to the other. By the time I lift my head, she’s moaning softly, her hands above her head and gripping at the table. She a wild sight to behold, and I eagerly reached for the zipper of her pants.

  To my surprise, she froze and reached down to grab my hands and stop them.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  Samantha shakes her head. However,

  she drops her gaze from me and begins wringing her hands nervously. I’m a little startled by her sudden shift in demeanor. Why is she so nervous all of the sudden? A moment before, she was moaning and arching her back in ecstasy, but now she’s gone completely quiet and she’s shaking slightly.

  Is she afraid of me?

  I reach out to touch her shoulder and she flinches away from me. Shit.

  “You’re afraid of me,” I murmur.

  Her gaze swoops back up to me. “What? No! That’s not it. I mean…I’m still startled by what you are, I won’t lie, but that’s not…that’s not why…”

  She falls silent.

  “Why what?” I gently prod.

  She continues to hesitate and I don’t push. I just stand there and wait.

  At length, she releases a deep breath and reaches down to grab her pant leg. Slowly, she rolls it up and, to my surprise, reveals a prosthetic leg. It’s several moments before I realize I’m gawking at her. When I look up at her face, her cheeks are burning red and she’s biting her lip, fighting back tears.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask, thinking she must be feeling pain at last if she’s on the verge of crying.

  She shakes her head. “No…no more than usual.”

  “Then…what’s the matter?”

  She shrugs, not looking at me. “I know it’s…a lot…”

  It takes me a moment to realize what she means, and when it hits me, my gut twists.

  “Samantha…your leg doesn’t bother me,” I tell her softly.

  Blinking, she peeks up at me. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I stared,” I continue. “I was surprised. I honestly had no idea you had a prosthetic. You hold yourself so well, and you don’t even limp. It’s rather impressive, actually.”

  The tension that’s tightened her shoulders eases somewhat. “Impressive? Really?”

  I nod. “Absolutely.”

  The corner of her mouth twitches, as if she’s about to smile.

  Now that I’ve eased her anxiety about her leg, I lean back over her and press another kiss to her lips. She hesitates to return it, but slowly she begins to give into the passion boiling between us again. When my hands go back to her pants, she doesn’t stop me as I undo them and move to slide them down her legs. Her prosthetic is cool and smooth, and her other leg is soft and warm, but it’s Samantha as a whole that turns me on.

  Once I pull her pants and underwear off of her, I press my fingers between her legs and I release a hiss of breath.

  “You’re already so wet,” I growl. “You need this as much as I do, don’t you?”

  Biting her lip, she nods wordlessly. I slip my finger inside her and begin to pump. She let outs a little whimper.

  “Oh…that feels so good,” she says, spreading her legs wider for me. “If you keep that up, I’m going to…god, please…”

  I slide my finger in and out of her faster and faster. The only warning I get that she’s reaching her climax is a sharp cry as she arches her back, and her channel clamps down on me, as though refusing to let me go.

  I don’t give her time to recover. Removing my finger from her entrance, I quickly undo my own pants and shove them down then take myself in hand. I’m already so hard, I’m throbbing. Lining myself up with her entrance, I meet her hooded gaze and hold it as I push deep inside her.

  Her lips part and her eyes widen. When I’m seated fully in her, I pause.

  “Okay?” I ask, my voice tight as I hold myself back.

  She nods. “Yes! Don’t stop. Please!”

  At her command, I begin moving my hips. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to last. She feels so good. Perfect, really. I gaze down at her as I slide in and out of her faster and faster. Her lips look so plump and luscious, I go in for another kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck and holds me tight, and I can’t help but marvel at how perfectly we fit together.

  Like two pieces of a puzzle.

  I can feel my own release rushing toward me, and I know I can’t stop it. I lower one hand to press a thumb against her sensitive nub and rub it, determined that she’ll finish one more time before I do. She’s beautifully sensitive, and soon enough, she’s tightening around me again and screaming my name as her whole body spasms.

  At the sight of her coming completely undone, I can’t hold myself back anymore and pump my hips harder and harder until I throw my head back with a roar. My whole body is consumed with a blinding pleasure that nearly brings me to my knees. I collapse forward onto her, careful not to put all my weight on her as we both fight to catch our breath.

  When I can stand again, I lift myself off of her and gaze down at her flushed, smiling face.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yes…yes, I’m wonderful, actually.”

  I help her sit up and my eyes stray down to her prosthetic.

  I know it’s really not my place, but I can’t help my curiosity.

  “How…uh…how did that happen, if you don’t mind my asking?” I nearly flinch at how stupid and timid I sound.

  She glances up at me with a small smile. “It’s okay. When I was young, I broke my leg playing soccer. The break healed, but I got an infection in the bone and became sick with osteomyelitis. It was really bad and didn’t respond to medication, and eventually, the doctors didn’t have any choice…they had to take my leg or the infection would’ve spread and likely have killed me.”

  Her voice goes soft and her expression grows tight. I can’t imagine what she must have gone through losing her leg like that. Sickness isn’t something I have to worry about, and so I’m unfamiliar with the helplessness and pain that comes with it. I can see it, though, right there in her expression. I can tell that that pain, though it happened so long ago, is still fresh in her mind.

  “That must have been terrible,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say, but wanting to offer some sort of comfort.

  She appears contemplative for several moments. At length, she looks up at me and her gaze is almost…haunted.

  “It broke me,” she confesses. “Not
only physically, but emotionally. I didn’t know how to be myself again for a long time. It felt like I’d lost more than my leg…I’d lost my freedom. I was an athlete, but after my sickness, I was convinced that part of my life was over. It’s hard to explain, but when…when you lose a piece of yourself like that…” She stops and takes a shaky breath. It’s clear she’s trying to control her emotions. When she speaks again, her tone is bitter. “Well, you’re never the same after. Everyone around you can try and pretend otherwise, but once your broken so badly, it’s hard to feel whole again.” Almost under her breath, she adds, “I just wish I could fix myself.”

  Her words slice through my heart. I gaze at her, seeing her in a whole new light. As appealing as she’d been before, she’s straight up amazing in my eyes at this moment. I can’t believe the pain and suffering she’s endured, yet she somehow found a way to pick herself up and continue on with her life. She’s accomplished so much already, and despite the obstacles that life has thrown at her. Not only that, she’s somehow been able to maintain optimism in her perspective of the world, and is capable of such compassion that she’d go out of her way to make homecooked meals for a cold bastard who continuously attempts to ignore her.

  My heart begins to thump, and I’m overwhelmed with a swelling of tenderness toward her. Affection. It startles me, and my instinct is to chalk it up to the bond, but I know better than that. The bond controls my physical responses to her and my instincts – it can’t control my emotions. That’s why I was able to hate my previous mate while also lusting for her. What I’m feeling for Samantha, this warmth and desire to comfort and make her smile, is all me.

  It’s a surprising realization, but also…not unwelcome. There’s something nice about knowing that some of the things I’m feeling for Samantha are genuine and not driven by the bond. No doubt, the bond is intensifying things, but those feelings were mine, nonetheless.