Soulbound (13 page)

He was silent for a moment, and she dared not lift her head to meet his eyes. With a distinct step backwards, he put a small distance between them. “We need it for these.” He lifted his wrists and the chains clanked loudly. “The sword is a fae weapon, Miss May. Coated with iron, unbreakable, and capable of killing a fae warrior. I stole it long ago when I was a knight.” He grinned, showing his bold, white teeth. “Didn’t realize what it was at the time, but you can be sure I’ll not be giving it back.”

“And this sword will cut through your chains?”

“By your hand?” He glanced at her hands, resting in her lap. “Yes.”

“And the sword is with Lucien?”

“It is on Lucien’s barge. However, that is being watched,” Adam said.

“Can Lucien not simply bring it to us?” Lucien was Adam’s right hand. Eliza had watched him when she’d been with Adam before; the GIM was charming, crafty, and loyal.

Adam had looked pained then. “If anyone could find him. But he’s gone off somewhere, and I’ll not trust another with retrieving the sword.”

“Then why not retrieve it before we go to the oracle?”

“You’ve endless questions, Miss May,” he said mildly.

“Yes, and you’re constantly fueling more of them.” Eliza sat in a chair, unwilling to move until she was satisfied. “Answer them.”

Adam grunted. Clearly being ordered to talk was not something he liked. “The sword will keep. The oracle will not. I want to get there before someone else does.”

Eliza lurched upright. “Is the oracle in danger?”

“Every oracle is in danger, dove. But the more likely case here is that Mab or Mellan will persuade the oracle to lie to us.” He shot her a look. “I’d rather have my information untainted, wouldn’t you?”

She made a noise of agreement. And the corner of his mouth tilted upward. He really was a fine-looking man.

Adam, in the act of slipping on a brown wool vest and buttoning it up, caught her gaze and stilled. The golden eyes of a hawk pinned her. “Why do you look at me so?” he asked in his dark, coffee voice.

Eliza willed herself to remain light and unaffected. “And how is it that I am looking at you?”

He peered at her, his head canting just a bit. “As if you find me amusing.” Oh, but it was clear he did not find
that
amusing in the least. And he could not have been more wrong. Obviously, he hadn’t the faintest notion how charismatic he was. The GIM that cared for him could hardly keep their eyes off of him. True, he no longer possessed that odd, overwhelming sexual pull that his powers had given him. This was more subtle, but no less potent. Adam, the man, was one of those rare persons who others would always long to be near.

And, by God, he was magnificent.

“I was thinking,” she said, “that you’d have been better off dressed in those horrid plaid trousers. At the very least, you’d look ridiculous.”

His scowl grew, but oddly so did the color upon his high-cut cheeks. He was blushing. How charming. Eliza found herself smiling, and he grumbled low in his throat at the action. “I bloody well despise those trousers, and why the bloody hell would you want me to look ridiculous?”

“You stick out like a candle at midnight as you are now.”

His gaping mouth abruptly snapped shut but his flush darkened, turning his golden skin ruddy. When he spoke again, it was gruff. “I’m dressed as a common laborer. No one pays them any mind.”

They will if the laborer looks as good as you do.
 

With brusque movements, Adam tucked a limp, grey neckerchief around his collar and began to tie it. In front of her, as if she were his wife. A blush stole over her cheeks, and she counted herself a ninny. She’d seen him unclothed so many times now that, were she to close her eyes, she could still map the lines of his strong body with neat precision.

“You’re tying that neckerchief all wrong,” she observed.

He snorted in amusement, “It’s a poorly cut lump of cloth, Miss May. Ugly clothing, ugly fit.”

Though she ought to stay put, Eliza moved to help him with his collar. One end was sticking up at an odd angle and would not settle no matter how he fussed with it. Gently, she smoothed it, aware of his proximity and the warmth of his big body. He watched her, his gaze lowering to her lips. As if greedy for his attention, they seemed to plump up, becoming sensitized to every light brush of his breath.

She felt her body slow down, growing hot and languid, wanting to melt against him. Eliza tried to fight it, taking steady breaths. As she began to tie the rather horrid cloth around his neck, she spoke in a low, and not altogether steady, voice, “One would think you’ve never dressed yourself before.”

“Mmm…” His voice was a deep rumble. “Or perhaps I’d rather you helped me.”

Her gaze flicked up, shocked. She started to speak, but the door burst open. Adam and Eliza flinched as one, and his hand came to the small of her back. In trod a young serving girl holding a tray of food. She caught sight of Eliza and Adam standing close, and she halted.

“Begging your pardon, my lord. I…” The girl went pink in the cheeks and promptly lost the power to speak further.

Eliza took the moment to move away from Adam, noting how his fingers tensed as if to hold her back, but she eluded him and went to the window. A tremor went through her hand as she gripped the heavy curtain. The man was too potent. Too tempting.

An opinion she gathered the young GIM shared, for the girl merely stood, gazing at Adam as if he were something of a god to her.

It did not help matters when he gave her a graceful nod of the head, his deep voice mellow with command when he addressed her. “Good morn, Miss Annabelle. I see you have something for us?” He eyed the tray that was presently tilting at an alarming angle.

Cups and crockery rattled as Annabelle righted the tray. “You’ll be wanting your breakfast, then?”

“Breakfast would be most welcome, my dear.” Outwardly, Adam gave no indication of insincerity or impatience. Indeed, he had that rare ability to make every person believe that his attention and interest rested solely on them. Eliza, however, knew better. She did not miss the tight rein he kept on his body. Or when his gaze flicked to hers, communicating in seconds his amusement over being interrupted and how he wanted to get her alone. The knowledge connected them on a level that disturbed her, and yet made her feel somehow as though she were finally precisely where she ought to be.

Eliza took a quick breath and turned her attention back to watching Annabelle.

Annabelle’s flush grew in depth and hue as she set the tray down. “Well, then” – the GIM bumped into the doorway – “I’ll… be going.” The poor girl was a lovely shade of magenta as she fled the room, slamming the door behind her.

The corners of Adam’s eyes crinkled as he went to latch the door. “She’s developed a bit of a tendré for me, I’m afraid.” His wide mouth twitched. “Or for the king of the GIM, rather.”

Eliza swallowed down a snort. “Doesn’t everyone who meets you?” The quip was out before she could think better of it.

The latch clicked shut. Adam glanced at her from over his shoulder, and his mouth quirked. “Everyone but you.”

He strolled across the small space between them, his gaze rapt.

“You never gave me the chance.” Eliza pushed past him, seeing the question forming on his lips and not wanting to answer.

But he followed, close on her heels, the looming wall of his body providing warmth in the cold chill of the dim room. “And if you’d had the chance?”

Eliza stopped. Behind her, Adam stood, his chest not quite touching her shoulder blades, but near enough to feel his heat. Not turning, she stared up at an intricately carved cuckoo clock that hung upon the wall and she pretended that warmth wasn’t blooming over her breasts. “A moot point as that time has come and gone.”

Gently, but with clear purpose, he caught hold of her elbow and turned her to face him. His expression was stern, his brows drawn over eyes of deep gold. God, but he was too much for her. Every time she looked at him directly, she could barely breathe. He was like the sun, blinding her, making her want to both turn away and look upon him endlessly. When he spoke, his voice was deep, almost urgent. “And if you had the chance now?”

The press of his fingers seemed to burn through her sleeve and into her bones. She could lie to him. Drive the wedge between them deeper. He stood, motionless, waiting for her answer. Eliza took a breath, aware of her ribs and breast pushing against her corset. “I am drawn to you.”

His nostrils flared, his lids lowering in a lazy, leonine way that was pure sin. “And I to you.”

A river of heat snaked down her center. He drifted closer, his broad chest nearly touching the tips of her breasts. Eliza fought the urge to put a hand up to stop him. “It’s merely attraction.” Her voice was too faint, too unsteady. “Attraction does not mean that we are…”

“Meant for each other,” he supplied, low and dry.

“Yes, that.” She raised her chin and pinned him with a quelling look. “Attraction is not so precious. It happens all the time.”

Again his gaze roamed her face. It felt like a caress. His wide mouth went soft. He stared at hers for only a moment before meeting her eyes. “Not to me. Not until you.”

The intensity of his statement – the way he looked at her, as if willing her to understand how it could be between them – made her dizzy, unable to breathe. She spun away from him, her skirts swishing. “I cannot believe that.” Idly, she ran a finger over a battered dressing table, leaving a dark trail as dust clung to her skin. “I’m certain you’ve had many women.”

Cold amusement lit his voice. “I was a Templar Knight, dove. I took a vow of celibacy when I was naught but eighteen years, and before that, I was a squire, and before that a paige. Always in training to be Templar.”

Her breath stuttered. And she could not help but look at him. “Surely at some point, you must have felt —”

He shook his head. “Better not to allow yourself to let those feelings in, when there is no chance of releasing them. I channeled it into aggression, used it in battle. I’ve never known the pleasures of a woman. Never allowed sin to rule me.”

“Oh…” Heat, swift and sure, rushed through her limbs. A virgin. He was a virgin.
Oh, my silver stars.
He’d confessed without shame but the look in his eyes, the hot need that darkened his eyes, told their own story. Seven-hundred-odd years this man had gone without release. He was through with waiting. Should Eliza offer, he’d take her without pause.

She tried again, for she could not fathom this man, so very strong and virile, not leaving a swath of broken hearts in his wake. “But afterwards, when you lived as the king of the GIM?”

His smile turned bitter. “Dear old Mab was quite creative with her curse. She unmanned me while making me irresistible to others.”

The cruelty of it lanced through Eliza’s middle. But she did not want to pity Adam. It seemed an even worse insult. “You once told me that you’d fallen in love with a girl at a May Day fair.” It felt like ages ago, when she’d been his captive, and he’d taunted her with that tale. But she remembered every word he’d spoken to her.

“I lied.” He did not appear sorry for doing so. In truth, there was a slight smile upon his lips. She needed to stop looking at his mouth.

“And I’m supposed to believe you now?” she said with more irritation than she felt.

His head canted as he peered at her. “Confessing one’s virginal state is hardly something a man would do unless it were true.” She merely returned his look. And his wry smile grew. “I was trying to rile you up then. To get you to acknowledge me.”

“And you aren’t now?”

“No. You’re acknowledging me quite well at the moment, dove.”

Her cheeks heated.

A soft, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I was told,” he went on, “that when I found the other half of my soul, I’d feel again. In all ways.” Adam pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning against and took a step closer to her, careful, however, to hold her gaze, as though he did not want to frighten her off. “And I do.”

Her mouth went dry.

“I’ve nothing to lose now, lass. So when I say that my want of you was one of the reasons I knew I’d found you” – slowly he reached out – “you can believe it.”

The warm, rough tips of his fingers grazed her cheek. Eliza jerked back, stumbling on her skirts as she edged away from him.

“Perhaps my attraction toward
you
is merely Mab’s magic, making you irresistible to all beings.”

“You find me irresistible?” His husky, laughing question had her shooting a glare over her shoulder.

With his smiling mouth and eyes brightened with glee, irresistible was definitely the word for him. Damn all.

“Just so you know,” he said, “I find you quite fetching as well.”

“Isn’t that the point?” She tossed up a hand in irritation. “I cannot know if this attraction is because of Mab’s curse upon you. And you cannot know if what you feel is out of some strange, misplaced gratitude or if it is simply another one of Mab’s tricks. Nothing feels real.”

His smile faded, but he did not appear offended. No, he was calm and rational as always. “I’ve lost my powers.”

A huff broke from her lips. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“I no longer possess an unnatural ability to attract others. So what you do or do not feel for me has nothing to do with Mab.”

Eliza edged back. “I’ve noted a good number of ladies, and a few gentlemen, gravitating towards you.” She gave a pointed glance towards the door. “Even now.”

He took one small step closer. “I never said I was without natural charm. Perhaps they merely want me for me.”

She harrumphed. “You’ve an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“A man learns a thing or two during seven hundred and twenty-nine years of life.” His eyes flashed with a hint of his former GIM glow. “Or he ought to.”

“Either you are not listening to me or are deliberately misunderstanding.”

“Educate me then, love.”

His easy capitulation annoyed her. She wanted a fight. Perhaps that way, he’d stop looking at her as though she were an especially tasty treat.