7
Tarnley
“We will link you to someone else.”
“The bond makes you feel things that aren’t real.”
Is she fucking serious? Shoving the door open to my bar, I barely note the scents of fried food, fresh blood, and alcohol. It’s all become so familiar to me that I barely need to focus in order to offer passing nods to repeat patrons or the bartender currently serving two shifters seated at the end of the long, mahogany bar top.
The kitchen is bustling tonight, a typical Thursday here at my pub, with mozzarella sticks frying in a basket.
“Hey, boss.”
After offering a nod to Jax, the vampire currently running the kitchen, I move into the back office and, once I’ve shrugged out of my jacket, I toss it onto the chair behind my desk. Then, I run both hands over my face in an attempt to curb my flaring temper.
I want to smash something.
To slam my fist into a wall until it’s reduced to nothing but dust.
How the hell could she say that none of what we feel between us is real? It sure as hell isn’t manufactured. Sure, the bond strengthens the feelings, but it wouldn’t have done shit if the root wasn’t already there.
Everything I feel for her is real. Fuck, I’ve felt it for her since well before we were bonded, so belittling it—I shake my head and suck in a deep breath. She’s had her heart broken so many times it’s ridiculous, and I recognize that a lot of her hesitation is just that.
A way to protect herself.
But I really thought we were making some progress. That finally, we might be able to take our relationship past friendship. Maybe that’s never going to happen, though. Maybe we’re only meant to be distant friends. Can I live with that?
My office door opens, and Elijah steps inside, his large frame shrinking my doorway.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest?”
He grins. “Hunter blood, my friend. I’m good as new.”
“Good for you.” I take a seat in my chair and lean back as he sits across from me.
“How are you?”
“Peachy.”
“You always were a shit liar.”
Elijah and I have been close, ever since he turned me. Hell, he’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had. We don’t keep secrets. Which makes not telling him about the current location of a certain witch near painful. “I’m not entirely sure what to do about Bronywyn.”
“I fucking wish she hadn’t taken in all that magic.”
“She had to. You would have died otherwise.”
“Then I’d be dead, but she’d be fine.” The guilt in his voice is thick, potent, and I know a lot of it has to do with his regrets over what he put her through all those years ago. Something he still beats himself up about.
“She knew what she was doing,” I tell him. “It’s not on you.”
“It is,” Elijah replies. “But I’m going to do everything in my power to get her back. Rainey is at the precinct now, trying to track her before we have to leave to get Lucy. Speaking of, you coming to that particular party?”
“Fuck yes. I want to see that bitch burn for what she’s done.”
“Good.”
A soft knock on my door has us both shifting our attention. “Come in.”