Chapter 19: Unmake Me - Hunger & Harmony

I throw the blankets back with a kick of my legs and a short screech. My frustration echoes around me, fading into the crackle of fire.

Panting, I glare at the amber flame. It dances jovially, and I swear, even the vines curling towards the mantle are mocking my misery.

“Ugh!”

I flop back onto the bed. It’s too hot, but only a couple of minutes without a blanket, and I’ll be back to freezing. I’m trapped in this cycle. My skin is aching, and the pressure behind my eyes won’t ease.

I won’t give in.

Separation hurts. Niko offered to stay as I slept, but I refuse. The Dissonant bond has to be broken, and the only way to not do that through death must be through distance, right?

When I’m near him, the symptoms fade. Any length of time without him in my sight, and I’m splintering apart. Surely if I push myself, I can train my heart to beat without him?

If I can’t undo it completely, any amount of easing this soul-deep fracture would help.

I yank the blankets back up my body. My shivers die down, and I labor on shallow breaths.

It would help to know more. There doesn’t seem to be any support groups for Dissonant bond victims, though. I half-laugh, half-choke on a sob at the thought.

I can’t step foot out of these bedchambers. My eyes dart around the room, frowning at the vibrant snapdragons sprouting out of the floorboards. Spring is suddenly my least favorite season.

When I look past the flora, my attention zeroes in on the sitting area across the room, to the right of the main doors. Specifically, the red velvet chair that’s been dragged up to sit by me. A jacket lays draped across the back of it, and I creep upwards when I spot black leather. Niko used this chair, and he must’ve put it back.

I suck in a breath as my fingers twitch. That has to be Niko’s jacket. My teeth clench to stop myself from smiling. I won’t call him considerate, not even in my own head. I definitely won’t go grab it. What am I, a dog? I don’t need him, and I don’t need his stupid jacket, either.

Memories of spiced vanilla and bourbon linger in the back of my nose. Just thinking about that rich, comforting scent has my joints relaxing. The smell of Niko’s cologne brings back every good time we had, including his lips on mine.

Stuffing my head under the blankets, I force any thoughts of giving in away. Yet, the harder I push, the more my head pulses like it’s splitting in two.

“Fine!”

Throwing the blanket onto the floor, I storm over to the chair. The moment my shaking hands grasp the soft leather, a wave of relief crashes over me. I hold steady, bare feet planted to the embroidered rug.

No. I don’t need to do anything further. I don’t need it. I don’t need him! If I give in and admit how much it hurts without him . . .

It’ll cost everything.

I have to pay this price alone. Dissonant blood runs through my veins, right? My hands bunch the fabric, and I pause.

Yes. My blood.

My parents.

I keel over, knocked breathless by another wave of anguish. Hissing through my teeth, I do the only thing I can, and bring Niko’s jacket to my nose.

The only relief is from the physical pain. As I regain control of myself again, I hold his jacket close and sink to my knees.

Are my parents keeping this from me? Have they always? I search the patterns in the maroon rug, like the gold threads might weave the answer.

No. There’s no way. My parents are ordinary people from an ordinary town. A teacher and a mechanic are a far cry from vampiric weapons. Still, I can’t shake it. This ugly, wriggling suspicion in the pit of my stomach.

I loop my arms into his jacket, putting it on backwards to keep his cologne close. Maybe I should stop thinking about it. I should try to sleep and get my head clearer.

As I pick myself off ‌the floor, a knock sounds. Firm, but urgent.

Before the dread can deepen, my body lurches forward. When I’m opening the door with little choice, I understand why my limbs disobey me.

“Cadence,” Niko says, and when his eyes drop down to his jacket on me, his expression softens. “You could’ve just called me.”

I sharply avert my face.

“What do you want?”

My headache is already receding. He needs to leave before my reliance worsens.

“Truthfully . . .” His voice lowers. “I wish to silence these Dissonant notes.”

My head snaps back towards him.

“The . . .what?”

“Ah.” He hums awkwardly. “I had only heard them once or twice before, but I confirmed with my Aunt Imara. They’re remnants of siren magic, but broken and disjointed. Each note is physically abrasive.”

I blink at him. He consulted his aunt, and while I’m upset being excluded, his words hit me like a truck. How he describes Dissonant notes sounds like wrong notes.

An icy chill creeps up my spine, and I rock back. Has this been lying in wait this entire time? Was my fate doomed from the start?

“Whoa, hey,” he says, gathering me into his arms as I weaken.

He catches me before I stumble to the floor. I hate how the real thing is so much better than his jacket. His comforting scent envelopes me, and I press my face into his chest as he holds me. Each inhale clears my mind more, lulling me into solace.

I whimper when I’m laid down. When my hands reach for him blindly, his fingers intertwine with mine.

My eyes slowly open to see him sliding into the bed next to me. I barely registered him tucking me into these blankets. Now, we lay face-to-face, my heartbeat steady and the symptoms nonexistent.

“I don’t . . .” I whisper.

I squeeze my eyes shut again. The twist of concern on his face is unbearable.

“Hm?”

“I don’t . . .want to,” I say, pulling back.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he assures me, and I exhale slowly, trying to maintain my sanity. “I feel your resistance, but it’ll only hurt more.”

“What else can I do?” I curl in on myself. “I . . .I can’t, Niko, I . . .”

He reaches his hand out again, and my voice cracks.

“Am I meant to unmake you?”

His hand stops just short of my cheek, and my face crumples.

“I’ve always heard those Dissonant notes. My parents kept me from music like it was gasoline and I’m the match. Everything I’ve known was built on a lie, a-and now I found the truth that’ll destroy it.” I heave on a breath as my teary eyes meet his. “It’ll destroy you.”

His fingers curl slightly before they drop away. I press my hands into my face, whole body wracking.

The fireplace sputters. The sickly sweet floral notes overwhelm what little cologne is left in his jacket. I feel his burgundy eyes steady on me as I sob.

“Maybe you can unmake the right parts.”

I’m mustering the courage to retort when his hands gently caress my hair. Resistance swells against the relief, angry and red, but when I try to fight it, he pulls me closer.

“Tomorrow,” he says.

His lips press into my hair. As tense as I am against him, his softness doesn’t give way to my despair.

“What?” I mumble,

“Try again tomorrow.” His hands rub my back in small circles, his cool skin soothing through the pajama shirt. “You don’t have to break it in one night, hmm?”

“But . . .”

“We’ll get right back to it tomorrow. Whatever you want, sweet girl.”

He kisses my hair, and I unclench in his embrace. Tomorrow. When he puts it like that, I never want it to come.

As he holds me in this solitude, we’re in the eye of the storm, the weight of this destruction paused only for now. My body is pliant, and my eyelids are so heavy. I don’t want to fall asleep yet.

Even if it’s a mirage, I want to run towards it. This warmth in my chest, and these steady arms around me. I press against him further. The honeyed lies of this moment will have to carry me through the agony that awaits me.

Because tomorrow I’m going to break this bond.

Tomorrow, we’ll be worse than strangers.