Page 140 of Juliet & Her Romeos

But together, we’re stronger than anyone suspects.

Now, I won’t be a captive, forever dancing to someone else’s tune.

Is this what everyone feels after they bond?

I can sense the fragility and fractures in Benedict through the bond. Even sleeping, I can tell now how differently he experiences the world. I’m happy that the bond gives me this insight.

Yet it also reveals his strength and genius.

Both are staggering.

Even though Vito isn’t in the room, wherever he is in Romeo Hall, I can sense his hyper exhilaration. He may have been raised in darkness, but the light inside him is blinding.

Yet Ambrose feels wreathed in shadows.

I can sense the brokenness deep inside him: The darkness that he warned me about.

It’s a stabbing pain that makes me flinch.

At the same time, his love for each of us is like the moon struggling to shine through the snow storm.

I was raised in moonlight. I love the night sky and the stars.

I want to bathe in Ambrose’s moonlight. But how do I clear the clouds that are causing him such agony?

“Breakfast,” Vito calls merrily, banging into the bedroom.

I startle out of my thoughts.

Vito is dressed in a black t-shirt and leather trousers. His hair is slicked back from his face, and he looks like fucking sin. Especially, as he’s carrying a tray of cinnamon and raisin bagels.

He swaggers to the bed, sprawling next to me. Then he rests the tray on the nightstand, before passing me a bagel.

“These are freshly baked,” I exclaim, taking a delighted bite. I moan and then mumble around my mouthful, “Yummy.”

Shit, these are good.

There truly are advantages to being bonded to a baker.

Are all breakfasts going to be like this now? Pancakes and bagels?

Perhaps, if I’m really,reallylucky, I’ll never need to eat oatmeal again.

Vito puffs out his chest. “Candy may be the creative talent behind the Dough Knot, but I can still bake. I’m used to getting up at dawn. The morning after a bonding should be memorable, you know? Expect to be plied with treats.”

“Bring it on, Little Snake.” Swan holds out his hand, expectantly.

“Do you want something, beautiful?” Vito’s lips twitch.

“One of those pastry things. I’ve never eaten anything like that before. I’ll have to spend the rest of the day exercising, but it’ll be worth it to taste one.”

I swallow my mouthful, wincing.

Vito’s expression hardens. “You fucking won’t. You eat as much as you like. There’s no cost to it.” He snatches up a bageland stuffs it hurriedly into Swan’s hands. “They’re cinnamon and raisin bagels. If you don’t like it, just tell me, and I’ll make you something else.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Normally, yeah. But not about this. What you like or don’t matters to me. So, I’ll make shit, then you can try it. If you don’t like it, then I’ll make something else, right?”

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