Twisted fate, p.1
Twisted Fate, page 1
Twisted Fate
THE FATE & FLAME DUET
BOOK ONE
LIZ HAMBLETON
Edited by
BETH HUDSON INK
Cover Design by
K.B. BARRETT DESIGNS
LIZHAMBLETONBOOKSLLC
Contents
Content Warning
Fate & Flame Playlist
The Bond
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
To Continue Reading…
~For McNevin~
We know best friends are soulmates, and you my redheaded happy little Libra, are mine.
Content Warning
Before you read…
The Fate & Flame duet contains mature subject matter that may not be for everyone. If you are uncomfortable reading detailed, explicit, on-page romance, this book is not for you.
There are mentions of kidnapping, medical torment, and therapy. Although not described in great detail, there is mention of others taking their life or undergoing trauma.
Please be mindful when you read.
Fate & Flame Playlist
SONGS TO READ BY
~in no particular order~
Scared to be Lonely - Martin Garrix & Dua Lipa
Arcade - Duncan Laurence
Everything I Wanted - Billie Eilish
I Found - Amber Run
To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra
Can We Pretend That We’re Good - Daniel Seavey
Enchanted - Taylor Swift
Love Somebody - Lauv
Glimpse of Us - Joji
Criminal - Fiona Apple
A Case of You - Joni Mitchell
Bloom - The Paper Kites
If You’re Not the One - Daniel Bedingfield
Mercy - Shawn Mendes
Come Away With Me - Norah Jones
Can’t Help Falling in Love With You - Elvis
Sweet Thing - Van Morrison
Invisible String - Taylor Swift
Clocks - Coldplay
When the Party’s Over - Billie Eilish
Daylight - David Kushner
In This Darkness - Clara La San
Surrender - Natalie Taylor
Breathe Me - Sia
The Bond
It was spontaneous, the discovery of the bond. One couple first and then a dozen, all of them granted youth and health because they touched the skin of their one true person. Their love for each other was immediate but true, and once bondmates found each other, they were never apart.
As the world watched in awe, two groups formed amongst its inhabitants.
Searchers and Settlers.
Searchers spent their lives looking for their bonded, and since the only way to find their fated partner was by skin-to-skin contact, everyone within reach was a candidate. It became the norm, people brushing against your body everywhere you went, but the bond was rare, and very few were granted the spark of its existence.
Settlers opted for a traditional life, finding a partner and settling down to enjoy their family. Wedding bands were replaced by tattoos, symbolizing the permanency of their choice in the face of a world obsessed with bonding.
Years went on and the business of the bond became the most lucrative enterprise. As greed often does, it bred sinister endeavors. The Genome Theory fronted as a research facility, capturing and holding lost youths, using them for torturous scientific research in desperation to find the key to the bond.
After years of going undiscovered, a competitor, NeXus, uncovered the kidnappings and infiltrated Genome’s operation, rescuing hundreds of children who had undergone years of abuse.
To this day, no one knows why bondmates exist or how they find one another.
Chapter 1
EMRY
MONTHS HELD CAPTIVE - 26
He’s not the usual man that makes the rounds.
Not even close.
A nervous-looking employee with skeletal limbs and discerning eyes comes by here every day, but that’s not who stands before me.
This one is broad and tall, with a muscled chest wider than the doorframe. He’s so large, he blocks the light from the world outside. The sudden shift out of darkness blinds me most days, but as he ducks and turns sideways to step through my doorway, only a small halo of white crests over his head and around his body. It disappears when he’s fully inside, standing straight, his head almost touching the ceiling.
They never come inside this soon.
My latest procedure was only yesterday, and I panic, worried they’ll drag me back to that white room full of needles and machines. It’s not fair to go through all of that, only to face their torture again so soon.
Will this ever stop?
Solid thuds from his boots sound against the steel floor, a subtle growl emitting from his chest when he gets closer.
Oh, fuck.
I’ve done everything they asked, and I never complain or fight back. He’s angry, and I search my memory for a reason. There is nothing but hazy recollections of waking up and going to sleep in my room.
No more, please.
I’d rather die.
I try to sit up and fail. My weakened state from whatever drug pumps into my veins makes every movement nearly impossible. The unbearable throbbing in my head when I’m finally upright almost causes me to cry out in pain, but that will only make matters worse.
They don’t want reminders of our suffering.
Biting back any sound, I press myself against the wall. My gown opens at the back, leaving nothing but bare skin that turns to ice when it hits the cold metal. Someone turns on the lights, and I’m blinded, throwing my hands over my face to shield my eyes.
“Turn them off,” a voice booms, the same one that growled moments earlier. It’s so thick and deep that I press my palms against my face, afraid of what I might see if I lower them.
“Sorry, Seb,” another man says with the click of the switch.
“Leave,” the deep voice orders, and someone skitters away, shoes squeaking in their rush.
More footsteps.
Softer this time.
Cries pour in from the hallway, growing louder as someone passes my room. A girl is sobbing, unable to control herself while a woman’s voice speaks softly to her, muttering words I can’t decipher.
I can’t make sense of what I’m hearing. This place stays silent or we all suffer the consequences. My heart thuds from confusion and fear, and I curl my legs up to my chest, trembling so hard I feel my bones shake.
He’s in front of me. I feel his presence only inches away, so close that his warm breath glides against my frigid fingertips, sending goosebumps across my skin. The tubes in my arms burn and sting being pinched from my awkward position, but I’m too afraid to move — to breathe.
“Hello there,” the voice says, an unexpected greeting from the hulking man.
I don’t respond, my teeth chattering and clicking in my ears.
A gentle hand touches my kneecap, and I jolt, yelping from the contact. Every time someone reaches for me, pain follows, and I doubt a man who growls will treat me any differently.
“Did you find another one?” a woman calls from the hallway.
The boots stomp away from me, and then the door slams. The bang is so loud that it echoes throughout the room, making the metal bed I sit upon vibrate. Darkness creeps in through my shaking fingertips, the room void of light.
“Fuck,” the voice grunts.
Seconds tick by as a cold sweat mists my forehead, my stomach twisted in knots.
I wait, preparing myself for the worst.
“I didn’t mean to slam the door. I don’t want to…” His words trail off, and I hear him take in a shuddered breath before he continues. “This must be scary. I can’t imagine. I’m sorry.”
His words make little sense, saying things I never hear in this place.
I didn’t mean to.
I don’t want to.
I’m sorry.
He’s on the other side of the room, his voice distant but deep, awakening something inside me. A click sounds, and light from the lamp in the room’s corner shines softly through my fingertips. I clamp them shut as tightly as I can, tucking my limbs tighter against my body.
I’m a frightened animal, helpless to endure more tests… more suffering.
A lab rat.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promises. “Not ever.”
More nonsensical words catch in his throat as his footsteps make their way back in my direction.
What he says, or maybe it’s
A sense of hope.
I don’t speak, not because I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t make the words escape my lips, my body so frozen by fear. I’m too scared to let myself believe this person could be kind, so I stay locked in this position, unable to move or reply.
His smell wafts towards me, a woodsy scent I inhale and let into my lungs. It’s the smell of outside, a place I haven’t seen in years.
Will he take me… outside?
Another touch to my leg, but I don’t recoil this time, allowing the warmth of his embrace to linger on my skin. My hands lower just enough to peek through, and I look down at the large fingers that curl over my bare knee, his thumb sliding back and forth across my flesh.
When I flick my eyes up, I confirm my suspicions. He doesn’t belong here. There’s no lab coat or badge and his eyes…
He looks at me.
They never do that.
His eyes stare into mine for endless seconds, refusing to pull away. Looking at him, that growl from earlier feels misplaced, as if it was meant for someone else.
There’s no disdain from this man, and I would know. I’ve come to memorize the eyes of those filled with hate, or worse, indifference. There’s an emptiness beyond the irises that separates what they witness from what they choose to see. When they look down at a sickly child, they only see a job. When I lay on their table, they convince themselves they’re merely examining a test subject.
This man sees… me.
Another cry comes from the other side of my door, but he doesn’t break his gaze. It’s a boy this time, his soft wails telling me he’s younger than most. I might be the oldest at sixteen.
Or am I seventeen? I’ve lost count.
“Mitchell, will you take this one?” a woman’s voice calls from outside my room.
What’s happening? Where are they taking us?
We carry on, simply looking at each other, and I notice his chest rise as he takes in a heavy breath. Those dark eyes search mine as he reaches his free hand out to my cheek, fingertips grazing my sallow skin.
I lean into it, surprising myself when I do. I want to cry, but I’m unable to find the strength. Instead, I just breathe, trying to swallow the smell of the woods into my soul, remembering how it felt to walk on the grass and touch the bark of a tree.
Hope sparks in my heart, flickering to life and setting fire to my senses.
Could this be the end?
A smile forms on my dry and cracked lips, and he does the same. It’s tender and careful, letting me know there’s still sorrow behind his expression. I wonder what he sees that brings him such sadness mixed with relief, but I close my eyes tightly with the realization.
It’s been years since I’ve seen my reflection.
I don’t think even I would recognize the gaunt body that sits before him.
“I’m Sebastian,” he says.
I relax my limbs, letting my legs drop, and his touch moves to my thigh. My shaking hand reaches for his, and he stretches thick, warm fingers around it. It’s such an odd sensation to be held with care. I almost forgot how magical it feels, how much strength it provides.
He swallows hard, the smell of the earth strengthening as he leans closer before speaking again.
“I’ve got you.”
Chapter 2
THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
EMRY
“Welcome to evolutionary biogenetics. I’m Professor Emry Crowe, and the drop deadline is next Friday.”
My voice echoes through the room as far as the microphone will carry. Most students use headphones for the lectures and don’t look up as I stand at the front of a full classroom. They don’t think I see them staring down at their devices, distracting themselves with anything else, but they’re eighteen, and their stealth is lacking.
It’s going to be another long year.
My pants itch and the room is hot, full of everyone’s curiosity and longing. My fingernails scratch down my thighs while my head drops, letting my hair fall over my shoulders.
Students shuffle in their seats, making the metal chairs squeak and moan.
I hate this part.
“Get up,” I call out. A few people stand, unsure on their feet, followed by a few more. I motion my hands upward and nod my head, impatience filling my tone. “Up. Up.”
They all stand, swaying in a wave before me. A sea of souls, all rocking in rhythm, and all wanting the same thing.
“I’m sure there was enough poking and prodding before I got here, but some of you snuck in through the side doors. Late.” My eyes cast to a group of young men with tousled hair and dirty clothes I surmise they wore to bed the night before. “But if you don’t get it out of your system now, you’ll be distracted with it the entire class. And as I said, the drop date is next Friday.”
Everyone perks up, ready for their chance to run eager hands over every classmate. They’re young and don’t know what a journey searchers put themselves through.
I roll my sleeves up, displaying my tattoo, and several students squint in curiosity at the last name, Crowe, written in scripts across my wrist.
The name I’ve chosen with my husband dances in their vision, and I wonder if I’m the first married person some of them have met. They know we mark ourselves with the ink, identifying our choice, but the way they look at me, I might as well have two heads.
I’m an oddity to them and to most everyone I meet. A married woman teaching the science of evolution and what brought us to this world of searcher versus settler. Some might say it’s a choice, but it feels like an argument, maybe even a battle — each side desperately trying to prove their point.
There is no point.
Searchers are the vast majority, especially in this classroom. If media and politics carry on the way they have been, that will never change.
I don’t give them the opportunity to ask me questions, especially not ones they won’t like the answer to. “Each row has sixty-seven seats and there are sixteen rows. Row one, walk through, touch everyone, get back to your seats, and sit down. Then row two, go through everyone standing up. Hurry. We don’t want to waste time because as I said, the drop date is when?”
“Next Friday!” They call out in unison.
“Very good, now—”
I don’t finish my sentence before they’re rushing through the people, hands running over bare skin, gleams of hope in their eyes. I huff out a breath and tap my foot, impatiently waiting for this show to be over. It’s an efficient system, and one I’ve done every year except my first.
That first year, I managed four classes in frustration before another professor informed me I had missed a critical step. Every student thinks of finding their bondmate first, and their education comes second. Perhaps second is sex and some recreational drugs, followed by school third. Now that I think about it, food might be in the top three because all these kids do is eat and fuck and hope they find a bond.
One thing never changes year after year. The top priority is always, and will always be, the bond. The precious fucking bond that one in a million finds. Those are mathematical facts. There are under one hundred thousand attending this university, and my mind spins with the percentage of opportunity for a bonding.
It’s fucking low.
There are less than sixty thousand bondmates in a world of fifteen billion people.
I think about all of this, watching these young minds scatter through the rows, their hope fading with every step. It’s depressing when you think about the light in their eyes dimming as they reach the end. For so many of them, this university is the largest grouping of people they’ve ever encountered. They came here, wanting to find their person, and some believed they would.
The last student takes her seat with a thud, crossing her legs and bobbing her foot in frustration.
“Anyone want to drop now?” I ask, bringing my hands to my front in prayer and tilting my head. “No hard feelings.”
I give them a full minute, counting the seconds in silence to myself. Two students get up, their chairs scratching the floor as they kick them back, and the door hisses shut behind them.
I clap my hands together and step forward. “Like I was saying. Welcome to evolutionary biogenetics. I’m Professor Emry Crowe, and the drop deadline is next Friday.”
