Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 59 - 63

Chapter 59: Chapter 63

He steps away to switch off the main cabin lights, and I hear him moving softly through the darkness, flicking off each light, even the soft glow in the bedroom. He returns, sliding beneath the covers, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he settles beside me. The cabin’s interior is now awash in soft starlight streaming in from the open windows, casting delicate silver patterns across the room, and in the quiet, it feels like we’re suspended in a world all our own. Face-to-face, his features are softened by the dim light.

"Does this count as our first sleepover?" he whispers, his voice light, laced with the intimacy of shared secrets.

I stifle a quiet snicker, biting my lip as if we’re two teenagers hoping not to get caught.

"We’ve slept under the same roof before," I whisper back, grinning.

"But not in the same bed." His words hang between us, soft yet undeniably charged, and I feel a blush creeping up, heat blooming in my face before I shift around to turn my back on him.

He inches closer, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest as he props his chin on my arm from behind, his breath warm against my skin. "Don’t get all shy on me now," he teases, his voice low, playful, and with an edge that makes the blush spread down my neck. Heat tingles across my cheeks, and I find myself laughing, a little nervously.

"I think I may have misled your expectations."

His tone touched with amusement. He says, "My only expectation was to pull an all-nighter and talk until sunrise—what were you thinking?"

I turn only my head, catching the gleam in his gaze, a smile that knows exactly what he’s doing. His grin is playful, disarming, and just a little wicked. His voice drops lower, a whisper that dances in the space between us.

"Dirty mind for such a good girl."

I try to stifle the laugh that bubbles up, unable to hold back the giddy mix of embarrassment and intrigue that his words stir up. I turn over just to shove his shoulder playfully, a grin breaking through as I whisper, "You’re impossible."

And just like that, the tension shifts, softens into something warm.

He flops back down so his back is flat on the mattress. "Why don’t we play a game?"

I shuffle back around, so I’m facing him again. "What kind of game?"

"Two truths and a lie—liar must do whatever they are dared to."

"Seeing as I’m known as Saint Avara and I’m called—the Mother. I am confident that the liar won’t be me."

"Perception is almost always deceptive," he says with an undercurrent of something accusatory. "Care to play?"

"Ask," I allow.

"The yacht party. I never questioned it, but you said you needed some air. You left and Landen went after you and you were gone for most of the night. I didn’t see much of either of you come to think of it."

"I wasn’t with Landen for most of the time," I state a truth to hide another lie.

"Then what were you doing?"

I lift myself up on my elbow so I can glare down at him. "So much time has passed since that night and only now you’re asking? Was this all an elaborate ruse to interrogate me?"

He flashes a smile, luminescent in the darkness. "It’s a curious question. I didn’t expect you’d get so defensive."

"Here’s another curious question," I counter, "what happened between you and Kel when you guys left alone?"

"We danced," he admits, undaunted, unfiltered and unashamed. "We went where Landen recommended and I took her to our old spot. I had a whole set up ready—real romantic. We drank and danced, and once things got a little weird, we left. Too much alcohol usually makes me say or do things I wouldn’t, so I didn’t want to give it the chance."

The silence that ensues alerts me that it is now my turn.

"I hid away in one of the bedrooms," I state, omitting everything else, sparing only a fraction of the fabric of the truth that had unfolded. "I was kind of feeling overwhelmed that night."

"You make it seem like you had to endure such torture... was kissing me that awful?"

I deflate with relief, smiling as I shake my head. "Might’ve been the only pleasant thing that night had to offer. I just had a lot to think about then—still do."

"Like what?"

I arc a brow even though he can barely see the motion. "Isn’t it my turn to ask you one last thing?"

He moves one hand under his head, his taut bicep well-rounded beside his face. "I’m all ears."

"Why am I here with you? Why are we even together right now, like we’re old friends or something? Aside from the public spectacle, I honestly thought a part of you would’ve been glad to rid yourself of me."

"What makes you think that?" he questions in a terrifyingly stern tone.

"Because you have hated me since we first met—you only thought the worst of me."

"We’re past that," he says, quick and firm, thrusting the words as if to silence my blasphemous talk. "You think I’d be here with you right now if I still thought you truly had any malicious intent? Or if I couldn’t bear your company?"

"Then why?" I snap suddenly.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he angles his face toward mine, his gaze softening as he leans in, his eyes drifting to my lips—I barely have a moment to wonder if he’s going to kiss me when, out of nowhere, a pillow swings and smacks me square on the side of my head. The unexpected hit makes me gasp, and he grins triumphantly.

"Just thought that’d help knock out the nonsense for you," he quips.

I grab the nearest pillow, arming myself, ready to inflict retribution. But he’s ready, grabbing another pillow as a makeshift shield. Before he can brace himself, I launch forward, climbing onto him to gain the upper hand, my pillow raining down in a flurry of soft blows. Each swing is met with his laughter, muffled beneath the pillows as he tries, and fails, to ward off my assault.

The bed trembles under us as he squirms, laughter spilling out in uncontrollable bursts, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught. He twists, half-heartedly deflecting my hits while my giggles bubble up between each smack.

"I yield! I yield!" he gasps between laughs, trying to shield himself as he finally drops his pillow in surrender. His laughter trails off into a soft, breathless smile, his hands raised in peace as he looks up at me—and I’m still on top of him, straddling his lower region and I shift uncomfortably, accidentally rocking against—

He groans and seizes my hips to lift me off him. "Let’s not start something you wouldn’t be able to finish."