When I First Saw Red: Soldiers and Mercenaries Book 2

by Kasia Bacon

  “All right. Fine,” he snapped, fixing me with a blazing stare. A slight flush animated his face, spreading from his cheekbones to the pointed tips of his ears. “You’ve got a point. Neither of us is acting ourselves at the moment. Things will go back to normal when we stop this damn bond from developing any further. It’s just… The whole thing is so exhausting.”

  He might’ve refrained from referring to being bonded to me as ludicrous, per se, but his take on the subject couldn’t have been conveyed in a clearer manner. My spirits, poor to begin with, dampened all the more at witnessing such a reaction.

  The mattress gave a loud, prolonged squeak as I rose off the bed to put on my boots. Ironic that I didn't remember it making any such noises during the night. While finishing dressing, I observed Red from the corner of my eye.

  He got up and walked over to one of his fancy recliners. Having retrieved a white garment from it, he threw on what appeared to be a long, silk inner robe. Unsteady for an instant, he swayed on his feet, placing his hand on the chair’s backrest for support. Once he let go of it, he wrapped his arms around his middle, the way a person feeling cold or unwell might do. The fragility to his pose and demeanour could’ve been put down to his recent migraine, but my mind flooded with worry.

  I approached him. “Are you sure breaking this bond is a good idea? Should it be done just like so? Is it safe—?” I meant to add for you, but the words died on my tongue at the pinched look he cast me.

  “You can’t possibly wish to go ahead with it?” He leant forward with a feral glint in his eyes. “Well? Can you?”

  He seemed so damn decided on the matter. Not conflicted in the slightest. How odd, given that I knew some part of him longed for me. Yet he also found the idea of being mated to me repulsive. His blatant rejection gutted me in a way that stole my breath.

  I shook my head a couple of times, more to clear the tumbleweeds from my brain and escape his truculent glare than to give him an answer. But of course, he took it as one.

  “Good. Because I certainly don’t.” Red’s voice rang hollow. He stepped back from me, expelling a long breath, which I presumed to be relief. “We would be a disastrous fit.”

  His abrupt words splintered my heart.

  As if to seal some mutual agreement, he gave me a curt nod. I felt tricked somehow because in truth, I sure as shit didn’t agree with any of this.

  “To answer your question,” he said, glancing past my elbow somewhere, “yes, it’s safe to refuse the bond. It won't pose a threat to your life or health if that’s what you’re afraid of. Accepting a soulmate is a choice, not a prison sentence.”

  My life or health? I squashed an urge to laugh. He’d misinterpreted my meaning, but I didn’t even entertain the idea of correcting him. What end would that serve? If it was a choice, Red didn’t see it as one worth making. He wanted the nuisance of it all gone and forgotten as fast as possible.

  “The cravings will pass with time. But we’ll do well to avoid each other even after the bond expires, I suspect. That’s why…”

  I swallowed, waiting for him to meet my gaze.

  “…my decision to move to Ysêmyr comes in handy. I’ve considered it for a while. Might as well go for it now. Plenty of work possibilities in the capital and that.” His shoulder rose in a one-sided shrug.

  He might as well have grabbed for my sword, wedged it in my chest and twisted it. My pulse began thumping a mad gallop in my throat.

  Ysêmyr?

  If he moved to the capital, I’d never see him again. Not even from afar. I detested the idea on the spot.

  Yet what could I do? He had a point. We couldn’t have been more mismatched. I hadn’t gone through life uncommitted and unattached only to bind myself to someone like Red. Someone I had no hopes of being able to handle, let alone keep. Even if he had wanted me, he would’ve been too much for me. Too beautiful. Too vibrant. Too free.

  No, it wouldn’t work. He loathed the idea of being mated to a human and a soldier. Wasn’t letting him go the sensible option? The fact that he had no trouble dismissing the whole concept so readily decided matters for me. Confirmed we were doing the right thing. Fate fucked up and wasted its magic on us.

  “I see. That settles it then,” I forced out, pushing my nails into the meat of my palm. “What now?”

  He gave me an acute stare, staying silent for a bit. “Nothing.” Another shrug. “We part ways. Keep away from each other. That’s all there is to it.”

  Perfect. As easy as spitting.

  The new pause grew palpable with tension. I couldn't stand being there for another moment. I had to get out.

  Nodding, I made to turn and leave when he stopped me, his cool palm on my shoulder.

  “Lázhien, wait.” An uncertain expression flickered in his eyes. “I want to say thank you. For riding out here and helping me last night. And this morning.”

  Was it pity that reflected in his eyes? He must've thought me an idiot, so keen and pathetic. Rushing to his side like some deluded saviour. What the hell had possessed me to do that? Nobody wanted me here. Nausea flipped my stomach.

  “No need to think much of it.” This time, it was I who shrugged. “I don’t. You’ve said it yourself—none of it would’ve happened if we had full control of our wits. We’re not acting ourselves, right? It’s the bond. Like being under a spell. Just have to wait it out.”

  The words fell from my lips without me truly wanting to say them and in such an impassive manner, too. How convenient, to put it all down to some bewitchment and deny responsibility or emotional investment. I did precisely that, grateful for the excuse he’d supplied.

  “Yes. That’s it. We wait it out,” he repeated with no inflexion and withdrew his hand.

  We stood there like salt statues, regarding each other.

  I took stock of the blue shadows beneath Red’s eyes and the waxy, translucent appearance to his pale skin. He looked ailing and exhausted. And still stunning.

  Expressing concern would’ve been wrong, though. It wasn’t my place. I’d already outstayed my welcome. I had to force my legs into movement. I hadn’t yet left, but leaving already felt like a regret.

  “Be well, Red.” Denying myself the opportunity to touch him one last time proved too much. I reached down to gently trace the markings on his face.

  They turned shimmery gold underneath my fingertips, tiny sparks of wonder. The last bit of Magic I’d likely experience in my lifetime.

  We both shivered at the brief contact and then—as if burnt by it—started away from each other.

  “Stay safe, sergeant,” Red whispered.

  An inconsolable sorrow tore at my chest. I drank in the sight of him, focusing on the tone of his voice, remembering his scent, wishing I could store it for later. For one insane moment, I had the impression he was doing the same.

  With nothing further to say, I spun on my heel and darted for the exit. Two steps at a time, I thudded down the stairs as though being chased by a demon.

  Alas, the demon in question didn’t chase after me—he chased me away.

  ŌKKANȎ

  The door slammed closed behind Lázhien with a sickening finality that made me recoil. Noises from the house drowned out the sound of his retreating steps.

  At first, I found myself reeling from anger. Towards my demon for always trying to control my choices and coerce me into obedience. Towards myself for being a coward, unable to face and state my true desires.

  But then pain lashed through my body like a barbed flogger. I gasped for air.

  The wrath of my demon had me doubling over. Mourning his mate, he clawed at my insides to punish me for my betrayal.

  My knees met with a hard surface. Crawling on all fours, I tried breathing through the torment, telling myself the worst of it would be over soon. Unless he aimed to kill me this time, he couldn’t keep it up for long. And indeed, after a while, the unbearable sensation lessened to a dull, aching sadness, which I suspected might haunt me forever.


  I had been wrong and arrogant in thinking I would be able to walk away from this unscathed. Some tears in one’s soul were beyond mending.

  Weakened by the earlier migraine and sensing the approaching aura of another, I ended up flat-faced on the floor, giving in to heartbreak and misery.

  One Day Till Freedom

  LÁZHIEN

  Thirteen days after parting ways with Red, I woke up from an uneasy, broken sleep a couple of hours before sunrise.

  One more day and this nonsense, this struggle, this spell—whatever the hell Red had called it—would be shattered. It’d be all over, and I’d be free. The torment, the pining, the longing would cease. No more obsessing about him. Dreaming about him. No more feeling lost. On edge. Bereft. And rigid with lust.

  One more day.

  Afterwards, things would go back to simple and orderly. Boring. Safe. Days would be measured by a regular flow of shifts, training sessions and seasons—until a future campaign, if such were to happen. My brain would stop weaving wishful images of a life that could never come to pass. Craving a love that could never be.

  One more day till my head cleared. Till peace and freedom.

  One more day to convince myself that it was peace and freedom I truly wanted.

  LÁZHIEN

  “Sergeant, the Quartermaster Cleriē wants you. He said to come right over before you head for the sword practice.”

  I nodded to the soldier who’d conveyed the message and closed the door behind him. Once I finished putting on my uniform, I left my quarters.

  Etannen tended to work from the procurement rooms adjacent to the Armoury Pavilion, and I found him there as expected.

  What I did not expect was for Etannen to greet me with a glassy gaze and cheeks highlighted with a blush.

  “Lázhien. Oh, good. Excellent. Someone is here to see you,” he said, shooting furtive backward glances over his shoulder.

  I raised my eyebrows at the flustered demeanour of the usually unruffled officer. Something seemed off.

  “What the—?”

  “Right. I’ll leave you to it, shall I? Find me when you're done.”

  He darted for the exit before I could decide what puzzled me more—his sudden retreat or having a visitor.

  With no explanation on offer, I shrugged and ventured farther into the study, looking around the place.

  The woman perched on the desk jumped to her feet and faced me in a half-turn. Her skirts swirled around her ankles, showing off a rainbow of lace-edged petticoats.

  A peculiar sense of familiarity hit me as if I'd witnessed the same scene somewhere before.

  “Afternoon, Sergeant Jhagán,” she called in a distinct Něssyrian accent. “Ain't this quartermaster of yours a damn well-favoured man? Gah, his forearms. Corded with muscle and stone-solid to touch.”

  I gaped at her. The sincere admiration in her voice made me almost regret that I’d never paid Etannen’s forearms any mind. When the hell did she manage to give him such a thorough once-over?

  “Mistress proprietor?” I said, studiously ignoring a cold tightness spreading around my sternum. “Has something happened?”

  “Call me Ranélle,” she corrected me with a smirk.

  “Ranélle,” I repeated.

  She took a few steps towards me, pinning me with her sharp blue gaze. “Well, well, well. Don't you look like shit that froze over, sergeant? All gloom and sunken cheeks. Not to mention those dark circles under your eyes. I’d wager you haven't been eating or sleeping well, eh?”

  I frowned at the contented note in her voice. “You’ve come from Nygläär to enquire about my sleep and diet, Ranélle?”

  “Yes and no.” Ranélle clicked her tongue in a brash way the coachmen liked to do. “But the fact you’re not faring so grand confirms I haven’t been wrong in coming here.”

  We eyed each other in silence.

  Finally, Ranélle planted her arms akimbo, a deep crease marring her brow. “So tell me, sergeant. Have you managed to dislodge your brain from your arse? Enough to mull things over?”

  “You—what?” Torn between irritation and amusement, I stared down at the woman, who didn’t come past my chest. Not many people dared speak to me in such a manner. “Not a mincer of words, are you?”

  “Pfft. Want niceties, go round your great aunt’s for cream cakes. Prick up your ears, sergeant, because I’m here to provide you with information. What you choose to do with it will be up to you.”

  “Very well,” I said after a pause, gesturing for her to continue. “Let’s hear it.”

  The long, measured glance she slanted at me prompted the hair at the back of my neck to rise. I braced myself for whatever she planned to dish out.

  “Ōkkanȏ packed up this morning and said his farewells. He should be leaving for Ysêmyr in an hour. Is that of interest to you?”

  The news wasn’t unexpected, but it had my heart lurching up my throat nonetheless.

  “A simple yes or no will do, sergeant.” Ranélle’s intonation sharpened. “I’ve no intention to bore you.”

  “Yes,” I managed through clenched teeth.

  “Grand. You know what’s curious?” She carried on observing me, her head cocked to one side. “Throughout the years, Ōkkanȏ's accumulated a valuable art collection. He’s always appreciated beautiful objects. Yet what little he didn’t give away, he left behind. Replaceable was, I believe, the term he used to describe it all. Unimportant. He did, however, keep three things. Ones he must, in contrast, consider irreplaceable and important, wouldn’t you agree? You want to learn what they were?”

  Not waiting for my response this time, she opened the palm of her right hand to count in the air and folded her thumb in. “His painting kit.” She brought her index finger in next. “His mogõ. Because trust me—whatever ridiculous name he keeps calling the spoilt creature, he loves that cat to death. And the last one,” she said when her middle digit joined the cluster, “was your portrait.”

  A muscle jerked in my jaw. The fabric of my trouser legs felt coarse under my damp hands when I brushed them against it.

  Having let that sink in, Ranélle continued drily, “You should know that Ōkkanȏ living in Ysêmyr is a terrible idea.”

  “For him or for you? Are you worried about Red or your business?” I snarled, jumping at the chance to direct my frustration, suppressed for thirteen days, towards someone at last.

  Ranélle’s nostrils flared as she glowered at me through narrowed eyes. “I’ll forgive you that insult, sergeant. We don’t know each other well and I know you’re hurting. Yes, Ōkkanȏ’s leaving Nygläär is a great inconvenience to me personally. But not because of losing him as an employee. That, I can tolerate. In fact, I always hoped he would leave Cocks & Hens at some point. With Ōkkanȏ or without him, my business will continue to thrive. The proximity of your garrison guarantees it. Soldiers and whores go together like dogs and fleas.” She flashed me the pearls of her teeth, then sobered again quickly. “What I can’t tolerate, however, is losing Ōkkanȏ as a friend. He’s dear to me, and I care a great deal about his well-being and happiness. And I’m telling you—both will suffer in the capital.”

  The air in the room suddenly turned stifling. “How so?”

  “For starters, he doesn’t take well to change. And he abhors Ysêmyr, besides. It’s too busy, too noisy. With increased stimulation, his migraines will likely double. As a matter of fact, I can hardly think of a worse environment for him. He’ll be alone—and you can appreciate the fact Ōkkanȏ doesn’t make friends easily. Here, on the other hand, he’s settled. He likes it in Nygläär. That’s the reason he stayed all these years. And he’s got people he can count on, lowly whores or not.”

  “I see.” I loosened my collar, ignoring her sarcasm. “I could request a transfer to another garrison. It might take some time, but it’s doable. If I moved, Red could stay here. Would that help?”

  The frostiness in her blue eyes began to thaw. “No, sergeant. That’s not what I’m suggesting.�
�� She sounded patient, like someone trying to explain chess to an idiot.

  “What do you want me to do, then?” I asked, exasperated.

  “I want you to fix it.”

  “Fix what?”

  “Quit acting thick, sergeant. Turn him back. Bring him home.”

  I gave a humourless laugh.

  “Is there no doubt in your heart that letting him go is a mistake? Tell me that’s the case and I’ll say no more on the subject,” she challenged, regarding me with an arched eyebrow.

  I balled my fists and said nothing.

  “Your bond breaks tomorrow. It’s a done deal after that. No going back. Are you so keen to part ways? Do you think it insignificant that Ōkkanȏ’s waited thirteen days before leaving? Thirteen days of what seemed like antsy stalling to me, may I add.”

  My muscles went rigid as I stared at her without blinking.

  “You want to know what I think? Oh, you’ll hear my opinion regardless, just like Ōkkanȏ did.” One corner of Ranélle’s lips quirked. “I think you’ve bonded for a reason. Have you thought about that? Look, it’s obvious he needs a change. A purpose. You’re it. He can be the same for you. I know you want him. Not to fuck, but to claim as your own. I’ve seen how you look at him, how you are with him. And how he responds to you. He trusts you. His eyes go glassy at the mention of your name. Neither of you can fool me. I can’t be wrong about this.”

  “Only you are because he was damn clear he didn’t want anything to do with me. Couldn’t even bear to stay in the same city.” I tried my best to keep the bitterness out of my words, but failed spectacularly. Having cleared my throat, I averted my gaze. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it plenty. It’s all I can think about. But this is futile. It takes two to an Elven jig, as they say. And he’s made up his mind.”