Where Do Broken
Bonds Go?
I stoop down to check on Jaxon before I go. He doesn’t look good, but then I’m pretty sure the same can be said for me right now.
But since there’s no bossy Brit boy living in his head at the moment, he’s still lying in the snow, curled up in a ball as if to ward off whatever blow fate decides to deliver next.
I know the feeling.
“Jaxon?” I call softly, but he doesn’t answer me. More, he doesn’t even open his eyes to look at me, which is so not like him that it worries me even more than the fact that he has yet to move. I’m sure he’s exhausted—I am, and I haven’t done half of what he has tonight, even after he was drained by Hudson.
Determined to make sure he’s okay before I go anywhere or do anything else, I stroke my hand over his shoulder and call his name several times. Eventually, he opens his eyes, and I see the emptiness inside him—the same emptiness that I currently feel—staring back at me.
Still, he smiles at me as I take his hand in mine. “Are you all right?” I ask.
He doesn’t say anything, so I ask again even as I slip a hand under his arms to help him sit up.
“Yeah. Are you?”
As soon as he repeats my question back to me, I understand his hesitation in answering. Because there is no real, true answer to that question that doesn’t begin with, I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again.
And since we can’t say that, at least not now when we still have so much left to do before we can rest, I do the same thing Jaxon did and answer, “Yeah.”
His sad smile says he knows exactly what I’m doing as he grabs hold of my hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“No,” I tell him. “It’s not.”
“But, Grace, I threw the spell away and never thought about anyone finding it—”
“Still not your fault,” I say, cutting him off. “If it’s anyone’s, it’s Cole’s. Or maybe it’s your father’s. I don’t know, but assigning blame isn’t going to solve anything right now, not when I have to—”
“Don’t go in there,” he tells me again, clutching at my arm. “You can’t do the match by yourself. You’ll lose.”
“Probably,” I agree. “But I have to go in there. There’s no other choice.”
“There is,” he counters. “There’s always a choice. You can forfeit—”
“And what? Go live as a prisoner in your parents’ dungeon?”
“Better a prisoner than dead,” he answers me. “I can’t come find you if you’re dead.”
“You won’t be able to come find me anyway. I’m pretty sure your parents will make sure of that.” I lean forward, bring a hand up to rest on his cheek, then take my time stroking my fingers down the scar he used to hate so much, the scar he’s finally come to grips with after more than a year.
“You don’t know that.” His voice reflects his desperation. “You don’t know what the future could bring.”
“Neither do you.” This time it’s my turn to smooth his hair out of his face. “Don’t worry,” I try to reassure him. “I’ve got this.”
“Grace—” He tries to stand, but he’s too weak. Between feeding Hudson energy for so long, taking out the Circle guards, and then fighting the Unkillable Beast, he’s got nothing left.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, propping him up against the stone wall that surrounds the arena, so that he can look out at the forest as he waits. “Rest now, Jaxon. Macy will be here soon with some blood for you. She just went for help for Flint and Eden. But she’ll be here as soon as she can.”
“I don’t need Macy to take care of me,” he argues and tries once again to push to his feet. Once again, he fails.
Which only pisses him off.
Jaxon curses in frustration, kicks out at the ground in frustration, and has the closest thing to a hissy fit I’ve ever seen my strong, proud boyfriend have. But in the end, he sinks back against the wall and closes his eyes for long seconds as pain and fatigue draw lines on his typically unmarred face.
When he finally opens his eyes again, it’s obvious that he’s blinking back tears, and just that easily my own emotions are back to burning in the back of my throat. “I wish I could go in there with you,” he whispers.
“I know,” I tell him, because I do. Mate or not, if there was any way Jaxon could fight by my side right now, I know he would do it.
But I also know that time is running out. Though he’s trying to be respectful, I can feel Hudson’s impatience pushing at me from the corners of my mind, urging me to hurry. Urging me to forget Jaxon and focus on the task ahead.
But I can’t do that. I can’t just leave him like this, not if this is the last time I’m ever going to see him. So I cup his face with my hands, tangle the tips of my fingers in the edges of his too-long hair like I’ve done so many times before. And then I press kisses against his eyes, along his scarred cheek, over his mouth, which is still tight with pain.
“I love you,” I tell him, and out of habit I reach for him along the mating bond. But it’s not there. Nothing is.
God, it hurts all over again.
“I love you, too,” he says, and from the pained look on his face, I can tell he’s feeling the absence, too. “Even without the mating bond.”
He reaches out then, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into a hug that is as painful as it is comforting. I bury my face in the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, and I breathe him in. Whatever happens with this Trial, however it may go, I want to remember this smell—and this moment—for an eternity.
Too soon, horns sound from inside—the seven-minute warning I remember from the tournament. “I have to go,” I tell Jaxon. My Jaxon.
“I know.” He lets me go slowly, painfully. “Be careful, Grace. Please, please be careful.”
“I’ll try,” I tell him with a grin, because all this sadness is tearing me apart again. “But sometimes careful doesn’t get the job done.” I deliberately mimic the words he and Flint said during a study session not that long ago.
I push to my feet, swaying a little as I do. Jaxon tries to steady me, but I just give him a smile as I step out of reach. There’s no part of this he can do for me. Now I have to do it on my own.
“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him.