Chapter 33: Vicious Bonds: Chapter 33

I sit up as quickly as my body will allow, watching as he moves across the room, stripping out of his jacket, an unlit bloom pinched between his lips. He sits in a chair in the corner, pulling off one of his gloves, then another. He’s quiet for a while. I’m quiet too—literally twiddling my thumbs as I wait for him to say something.

When he doesn’t, I tell him, “Alexi says if you’re hungry, there’s food they can bring.”

He glances at me before taking out a lighter to light the end of his bloom. A quiet sigh leaves me.

I don’t want to argue or fight with this man anymore. We’re adults and should be able to speak to each other like so. Plus, what Manx said earlier has gotten to my head. He needs someone like me, and I have good qualities. I’m patient and understanding. I don’t know why Caz is so bitter and angry, but I don’t want to feed into that negative side of him any more than necessary.

“Not hungry,” he finally says.

“Are you going to try to sleep?”

He cuts his eyes at me before putting his focus on the door. “I don’t sleep.”

“Everyone sleeps.”

“Well not me.”

No point in arguing with a crazy person. “Are you always like this?” I ask, exasperated.

“Like what?”

“So…blegh.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“So uptight and mean.”

He cocks a brow. “You haven’t seen my mean.”

“So, you’re just a dick because you like being one?”

“What did you want earlier, when you were looking for me?” he asks, rapidly changing the subject.

“Nothing. I just thought you’d left me stranded here.”

He snaps his gaze on me and frowns. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug hard, even though I know the reason. If he’d left me here, I wouldn’t have known how to get back to Blackwater. I wouldn’t have been able to get to my world.

“I wasn’t abandoning you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I went back to Beatrix’s to see if I could find the book,” he says. “The one with the chant in it. I lost the paper she gave me during the explosion.”

“Oh.” I pause. “Did you find it?”

“No.” He frowns. “Beatrix hasn’t returned, and I couldn’t use her transmitter because she wasn’t there to allow me access to it. Mine was in my car, but the car wasn’t there when I went by.”

“So…no one knows where we are? Do they not have transmitters here?”

“No. That’s the thing about Whisper Grove. All their communication is done either verbally or by written letter.”

“This world is so backwards compared to mine. I mean, the medicine is clearly ahead of ours, but not having phones or ways to communicate right away? That’s different.”

“I don’t think our technology is like yours, and that’s probably for good reason. If technology was too advanced here, it’d be genocide. We’d all be dead by now. The Council agreed a long time ago that to maintain power and limit chaos, there must be restrictions. Direct communication and too much technology is one of them, I suppose.”

“Why is everyone trying to kill each other here anyway? It’s so violent. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s not violent here,” he says, his head shaking as he takes a hard pull from his bloom. “Not in Whisper Grove.”

“What’s so special about Whisper Grove?”

Caz looks from the window to me, then back out the window again. “Whisper Grove is a piece of land wedged between all four major territories: Vanora, Ripple Hill, Luxor, and Blackwater. It’s the only land that happens to be free of command, and by not having someone in command, the people thrive here. They take care of one another, treat each other as equals.”

“That’s how it should be everywhere, right?”

“You’d think.” Caz’s shoulders tense. “Whisper Grove was created by a tribe of men and women who left all other territories in search of a place more peaceful. Somewhere quieter. Safer. A place where children could run free without the risk of a bullet piercing through their skulls.” He closes his eyes a moment before peeling them open again. “The people here are good people until you cross them. Their weapons are most threatening, and they don’t trade with other territories. It’s how they maintain their power. There’s also something here in Whisper Grove that instantly scans your intentions as you cross their borders. It’s assumed that a former Mythic who promised to always protect the original tribe put it in place. The Council don’t share how it’s done, nor have they revealed which Mythic designed it, but you can’t see this weapon, or feel it scanning you. If your goal is to come into Whisper Grove and start a row with someone, well…it detects that. And when it does, it blasts you to bits.”

“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “So, if you were coming to this place trying to hurt someone with me in your arms, it would’ve blown us up?”

“Correct.”

“Oh my God. I knew it was a bad idea having you carry me.”

He fixes his eyes on me. “You had no problem with the barman carrying you.”

“His name’s Alexi,” I retort. “And no, I didn’t have a problem with him carrying me because, unlike you, he was nice.”

Another eyeroll as he digs into his pocket, pulling out a pill bottle. He opens the lid and dumps a red pill into his palm.

I study him, watching as he tosses the pill in his mouth and gulps it down. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of someone or being taken care of, you know.”

“From what I recall, I’m the one who brought you into my home, had you patched up, and gave you clothes to wear,” he counters. “I’m the only reason you even had the chance to meet that barman tonight, so keep it in your pants.”

“Well, first of all, there’s nothing coming out of my pants for Alexi, so how about you stop being a dick about it. Alexi happened to show me great hospitality and I’m grateful for that. And let’s not forget, you pointed a gun at me only seconds before helping me. Maybe you should’ve been a little nicer.”

“Nicer?” He scoffs, then folds his fingers on his lap. “Being nice is a weakness, and it gets you killed.”

“Well, like I said, Alexi is nice.”

“Please. He’s an arrogant brute.”

I laugh so hard I flop onto my back. “You can’t be serious,” I tell him, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye and sitting up again. “He’s the arrogant brute? Have you looked in a mirror?”

He glares at me, waiting for me to stop laughing.

“You done now?” He pushes out of his chair, making his way to the closet and taking down several blankets and a pillow. He spreads one of the blankets out on the floor, places the pillow on top of it, and then lies on both.

“You should get some rest. We have a long way back to Blackwater in a couple hours.”

“You know you can take half the bed if you want. It’s a pretty big bed.” And it is. I’ve never seen a bed so large. It’s not a king, or even a California king. It’s wide—big enough to fit three burly men.

“I’m fine here.”

“Suit yourself.” I turn over in the bed, resting on my comfortable side and facing the window. The wind pushes the leaves of the tree against the glass, and I inhale before exhaling, wishing I could just go home already, though I am tired.

I feel the fatigue in my body, and I’m convinced that those verdeberries make you giggly, or give you some kind of high, because I’m feeling a bit loopy. Or maybe it was Manx’s elixir?

Shit.

I frown when I hear Caz’s voice echoing in my head.

Is that a fucking… Oh, fuck!

I glance over my shoulder as Caz springs off the floor to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What is going on with you?” I ask, confused.

He swallows hard, staring down at the floor. With a frown, I lean over to see what he’s looking at and notice something crawling near his pillow. It looks similar to the spider that was at Beatrix’s—like a baby tarantula.

“Wait a minute…” I stifle a laugh as Caz moves his feet farther away from the spider. “Are you afraid of spiders?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles.

“Oh, wow. You are! Wow!” I stare at him, surprised by this new discovery. “And here I was thinking you’re this fearless man who can’t be bothered.”

I climb off the bed, picking up the empty teacup from my tray and wobbling toward the spider. It’s crawling onto his pillow now, and I see him shudder in the corner of my eye.

I can’t. This is hilarious and ridiculous. What kind of grown man is scared of spiders?

“I’m not scared of them,” Caz counters, and I forget he can hear me. “I just don’t like them.”

“I admit, these are some hairy little beasts…” I scoop the spider into the teacup. “But they’re not much to be afraid of. They’re not poisonous, are they?”

“Not that one. Plus, they’re disgusting to look at.”

I’m instantly reminded of all the spiders that’d come into me and Warren’s bedroom when we were young. We stayed in an apartment in Sugar Creek, a two-bedroom unit with walls as thin as paper, and our room hardly had space for a twin sized bed. Despite it being one of the worst places we ever lived, a lot of memories were created there.

There was this one corner in the room the spiders would always build a small web. I’d never been afraid of them, but Warren did warn me about poisonous ones, like the brown recluse.

“I think it’s kind of cute, actually.” I walk toward Caz with the teacup. “Would you like a closer look?”

“Willow, if you bring that teacup any closer, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” I ask, smirking. “Kill me? You can’t incite violence in Whisper Grove, remember?”

“Then it’ll be payback as soon as we’re past the border. Seriously—back the hell off with that thing.”

“Tell me why you don’t like them,” I say, taking another step closer. He stands, huffing as he moves around the bed to get farther away from me.

“I just don’t.”

“But this one is harmless, so what’s the big deal?”

“I just don’t fucking like them, all right? Never have and never will.”

“There has to be a reason.”

Caz’s head shakes as he takes another step back with a frown. “Fine, if I tell you, will you fuck off?”

“Sure.” I smile, bringing the teacup to my chest.

He draws in a breath, clearly relieved that I’ve stopped coming closer, then shakes his head as he exhales. “First of all, let’s set the record straight. I’m not fucking afraid of them. I’m traumatized by them.”

I blink. “How?”

“I was running in a forest one day with some friends and fell down a well. I was maybe nine or ten. Anyway, I was stuck there for maybe an hour or so while my friends went to get help. Shortly after they’d left, I moved around in the well and stepped on a spider’s nest. They crawled all over me—under my clothes, into my shoes, my hair.” He shudders. “I tried getting them off, but it seemed the more I smashed or swiped at them, the more they kept coming. Someone finally got me out of the damn well, but not without me being bitten over thirty times. I had to stay in the hospital for a week so they could clear my body of their poison. My doctor told me had I been in that well any longer, I probably would’ve died. Since then, I don’t fucking like them.”

“Oh my God.” I step away, my stomach sinking. “That’s…that’s so traumatizing. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Now I feel like a complete bitch.

He doesn’t say a word, just looks away, as if ashamed, and now I really feel bad. He hates spiders because of a childhood trauma. That’s awful.

I wobble around the bed to get to the window, twisting the lock open and lifting it. I dump the spider onto the windowsill, and it scatters away quickly. Then I close and lock the window before setting the teacup on the shelf next to me.

Caz climbs off the bed, walking to the chair and picking up his jacket. Not staying here.

He carries the jacket with him, marching to the door, and my heart pounds as I watch him go toward it. “Wait—Caz,” I call as he wraps a large hand around the doorknob.

He stops, and I feel a slight ache in my chest again, only this time it doesn’t hurt. It’s pulsing, like it has its own heartbeat above my own heart. A chill sweeps through my body, but unlike the coldness before, this one doesn’t paralyze me. Instead, it soothes the marrow in my bones and causes my scalp to tingle.

“You don’t have to leave,” I tell him. “I’m not judging you about the spiders. After hearing that story, I understand why you’re afraid of them, and I’m sorry for taunting you about it.”

He turns fully around, glaring at me. “I’m not afraid of them.”

“Right—well, it makes sense why you hate them.”

He tips his chin, clearly finding that statement more suitable. “You tell anyone, and I’ll bury you.”

I fight a smirk. “No, you won’t.”

“What makes you think I won’t?”

“Because apparently we’re Tethered.” I step closer, but not without wobbling. “And I have a feeling burying me would be just like burying yourself.”

He’s quiet as I take another step. Then he says, “Look at you. You can hardly walk and you’re talking about some Tether.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

If I’m not mistaken, his eyes soften as he looks into mine. It’s very brief, but they do, and he clears his throat, looking away to break his trance.

“Look, I know you feel this…whatever this is that happens when we’re arguing or disagreeing with each other,” I go on.

His throat bobs and he works his jaw, like he often does when there’s a topic happening he doesn’t want to discuss. I’ve noticed that about him. In only a matter of days, I’ve noticed many of his quirks.

“I have a feeling if you leave this room tonight, that cold cramping we’re feeling will only get stronger. For all we know, that pain might really start to cause damage.” I pause, debating whether I should tell him what I felt, but either way he’ll probably hear my thinking about it. As I look into his eyes and notice them swimming with curiosity, I shoot for it. “Earlier, when you walked out of Manx’s office, I felt cold, and like I couldn’t breathe for a second, and I don’t know what that means for us, but I don’t want to feel that again, so if you’d just stay, I think it’ll be best. For both of us.”

Caz looks deeper into my eyes, holding my gaze a few beats before snatching his away and sighing. Without a word, he walks across the room, moving past me to get to the cushioned chair in the corner.

“Fine. I won’t leave, but I won’t be sharing a bed with you either. Nothing to take personally, I just don’t like people near me for too long.”

I start to ask him why, but for now I’m just glad he didn’t go. Oddly enough, I feel safer with him around than when he’s not. And sure, Whisper Grove may have a rule that doesn’t allow violence, but who’s to say someone can’t find a loophole and attack us anyway?

Despite it all, it’s a victory to me. He’s staying, and I’m tired, so I think I’ll sleep. I climb into the bed, lying on my good side again, and pull the plush white duvet over me.

This bed is so comfy. You have no idea what you’re missing out on.

I peek at Caz, and his eyes are already on me. With an eyeroll, I hear his voice in my head saying, Go to sleep already, Willow Woman.

I close my eyes with another smile.