Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 79 - 81

Chapter 79: Chapter 81

Botan POV

When I wake again, late morning light filters into the room, and this time it’s her movements that bring me to consciousness. Avara’s limbs are sprawled across me as she tries, far too carefully, to slip free. Feigning sleep, I wait until she’s almost succeeded before catching her, pulling her back into my embrace. She squeals, her laughter bright as she smacks my arm playfully, her protests half-hearted as I tuck her against me.

"I’m hungry," she announces with a dramatic sigh, and I loosen my hold, standing up first. Stretching, I feel the satisfying pull of muscles as my back turns to her.

Before I can turn around, she leaps onto me, wrapping herself tightly around my back. Her laughter spills over as I steady her, my elbows locking beneath her thighs to support her.

"There’s no way I’m climbing all those stairs this early," she declares, her breath warm against my neck.

"Yes, ma’am," I reply, the corners of my mouth twitching with amusement.

"And do you trust me?" she asks suddenly, her voice dropping to a soft, conspiratorial whisper.

"With my life," I answer without hesitation.

She shifts, covering my eyes with her hands, her fingers fanning out just enough for streaks of light to peek through. "Then follow my voice."

I take a tentative step, every sense sharpening as I tune in to her guidance.

"Straight ahead but—"

My knee clips the edge of a table.

"Let me finish next time," she giggles, her laughter contagious as I crouch to feel out the path myself before continuing.

"And where are you leading me?" I ask, my voice teasing.

"The bedroom," she whispers, her tone playful.

Without warning, I break into a sprint. Her hands fall away as she clings tightly, a shriek of surprise escaping her. "I was joking!" she protests between laughs.

The grin on my face, unstoppable. "Now it’s my turn to finish."

We barely make it out of the library before Martha intercepts us in the hallway. Her eyebrows arch with quiet entertainment. "I thought I heard you two down there. Shall I alert the kitchen to prepare breakfast?"

"No need," I say, a better plan already forming. "We’re going into town."

***

The market hums with life as the morning sun bathes the cobbled square in golden light. Stalls brimming with fresh produce line the streets. Bright red tomatoes glisten with dew, nestled beside bunches of emerald-green basil. Stacks of oranges and lemons form pyramids, their citrusy tang in the air.

Local vendors call out cheerfully, their French punctuated by the occasional laugh or negotiation. An elderly woman that reminds me of Martha leans over her table, blemished hands deftly arranging jars of lavender-scented soaps. Nearby, baskets of freshly baked baguettes, their golden crusts hinting at crisp perfection.

"Botan, it’s so beautiful here!" She takes my arm, curling her own around mine, smiling goofily as she tangles herself around me before resting her head against my shoulder as we stroll onwards. "I almost never want to go back," she whispers secretly.

"Then stay. Stay here with me."

She picks up her head to look up at me regretfully. "I’m not the only one who’s duty-bound. You always have to leave the minute Haru calls you."

I let her words slip into a pit.

"It’s too pretty here to be upset," she says absently, her arms still coiled around me. She rests her head back against me as she gives my bicep a reassuring squeeze. "We can enjoy today and let tomorrow take care of itself."

With silent gratitude, I turn my head to honour the crown of her head with a lingering kiss. A rush blooming as her fingers stroke against my skin soothingly.

Avara’s attention flits to the scent of roasting chestnuts from a corner, where a man turns them over glowing coals. Another stall boasts wheels of cheese, their earthy and nutty aromas drawing curious tasters. In another, cured meats and olives shine beneath the striped awning, each piece carefully arranged like a mosaic.

The place she settles on is at the edge of the square, seated outside a quaint café, its wooden tables spilling onto the street beneath an awning. The windows display neat rows of croissants, their flaky, golden layers glowing in the soft light.

Eventually, we return and the tension builds from the moment we step into the palace. Martha’s sharp voice cuts through the air before we fully cross the threshold.

"A call came in for you," she states, her tone terse.

"I’m unavailable." My response is automatic, indifferent.

Her eyes narrow, and her voice hardens as she steps closer. "Stop being stubborn," she snaps, switching fluently to Japanese. "Sore wa jūyōdesu. Akio kara no denwa ga watashi no keitai ni sattō shite iru."

Beside me, Avara’s head tilts, her wide eyes flickering between us, curiosity alight in her expression. Martha doesn’t miss a beat, pivoting sharply and motioning to one of the guards nearby.

"Angelo, why don’t you escort Avara to the stables?"

"Stables!" Avara exclaims, her excitement breaking the tension like sunlight through a storm. And I have to snatch back a smile. "There are horses here?"

"Yes," Martha replies with a faint smile. "I’m sure the stable hands will be happy to assist you with a ride."

"No need," Avara and I say in unison. She glances back at me with a spark of intrigue.

I keep silent and she continues, "I was in an equestrian riding club from middle grade and throughout high school." She casts an inviting look at Angelo, waving him over with a bright grin. "Shall we?"

Angelo follows, almost too eagerly. Avara glances back at him, their voices fading into something inaudible as she asks him a question with a gentle smile and he answers curtly.

Anger slams into me, "Keep your distance, Angelo," I bark.

He immediately falls back a few steps, his shoulders stiffening.

Avara is already bounding away as I stare after her. Martha’s glare finds me, sharp and unrelenting, and for a moment, I feel like I’m thirteen again under her unyielding scrutiny.

"Akio is looking for you," she says, her voice quiet but pressing. "He needs you. Don’t act like you don’t care. Ever since you two reunited, you’ve kept him at your side like some Beverly Hills housewife with her chihuahua in her Birkin bag."

"I’ve never denied my care for him," I counter, my voice steady but edged. "But it’s not me he needs. I know what he wants, and I’m not ready to—"

"Leave her and leave this dream?" she interjects, cutting me off with brutal precision. "A fantasy. You think you can live outside the bounds of reality forever? What you run from—you run into."

Her words hit hard, but I force myself to meet her gaze. "Honestly, I don’t care. I want to spend as much time with her as I can before our duties wrench us apart. I’ll deal with the consequences later. Akio is more than capable of making decisions on his own—it’s why I’ve always been hard on him. If anything happens to me, he’ll take over."

Martha steps forward, her eyes burning with an intensity that feels like a physical weight pressing down on me. "The only way out of this life is in a body bag. There’s no escaping the path you’re on, especially for you. Haru will never let you go."

"He doesn’t have to," I reply, my voice softer now but no less resolute. "I’m not leaving him—I can’t. But I also can’t live forever." I free an exasperated sigh, looking away momentarily. "Even though I know our worldwide operations are running optimally under Akio. I’ll go make a few calls to make sure."

Martha smiles sourly. "It’s all I ask. Any requests for lunch?"

***

Avara POV

The Arabian beneath me surges into a gallop, its powerful muscles rippling with every stride as the wind tears through my hair and fills my lungs with an intoxicating rush of freedom. The rhythm of hooves striking the earth creates a thrilling cadence, a drumbeat of raw exhilaration as we leave the manicured palace grounds behind. My sundress has been replaced with high-waisted riding pants and boots, a shift that feels like shedding one skin for another, faded familiarity but never forgotten.

Angelo rides alongside me, his mount’s hooves pounding in sync until we crest a short hill overlooking the endless expanse of prairie. The horizon stretches wide and golden; the grass swaying like a living ocean under the sun’s tender gaze. His horse slows to a trot, coming to rest beside mine.

"We shouldn’t go too far, maîtresse," he advises, his tone gentle but firm.

I ignore him, pretending not to hear.

"Maîtresse?" he tries again.

I twist in my saddle to meet his gaze. "If you haven’t figured it out by now, I only respond to my name—Avara. You may work for Botan, but you don’t work for me."

He hesitates before replying, his voice steady with conviction. "No, we work for Botan, which means we work for you."

A smirk tugs at my lips as I lean forward, my hands loose on the reins. "Fine then. I order you to call me by my name. Is that clearer?"

A flicker of a smile softens his face before he looks ahead, his expression contemplative.

"We should head back," he says finally.

"We should," I concede, my eyes narrowing as I point across the meadow toward a lone and distinct shrubbery marking the horizon. "But not before a race. There and back."

"Respectfully, absolutely not," Angelo retorts, shaking his head. "I would never—"

Before he can finish, his horse bolts forward, and a stunned gasp escapes me.

"Cheater!" I shout after him, laughing as I press my heels to the Arabian’s sides.