Soulbound (17 page)

Finishing his tale, Adam cleared his throat and glanced about. He’d almost forgotten where he was. Holly and Thorne looked thoughtful. As for Eliza, her face was pale and her expression drawn. He could not fathom what she thought.

But then she glanced at him, and her velvety eyes were moist. “All that suffering for refusing Mab?”

“And for stealing,” he admitted. “I cannot deny that.”

“Even so,” she said, “it hardly seems fair.”

“Fair? What does Mab care for fairness? If you are to survive,” he went on in a harder tone, “what you must understand about the fae is that they view life as a chess match. Every move they make is measured by how it will affect the final outcome, not the here or now.”

He traced the carved whorl in the arm of the chair, watching his finger move instead of facing all of them. “Something I myself forgot. I thought more of what I wanted than of what lengths Mab would go to in order to get what she wanted. I thought like a human, not an immortal.”

Silence was a ticking clock, the weight of their collective judgment bearing down upon him.

“We are all pawns,” Thorne said softly.

“Yes.” Adam glanced up. “But you are not human now. And clearly with Miss Evernight once more.”

Holly gave a tight smile. “William remembered me. Mab and I had a little chat, in which I destroyed her mortal body and sent her back to the fae lands.” She leaned in a little, bracing her arm upon her knees. “And yet she has returned.”

It was Eliza who answered. “She disappeared for a few weeks in May. Then returned one night, saying she’d been in the country. I’m afraid I never sought to question it. Nor any of her actions.”

“She returned rather quickly,” Holly said. “I was under the impression that she would need more time to regain her strength.”

Adam leaned closer to Eliza. “You see, Mab’s mortal body is of this realm. One might destroy that body and yet she lives still. However, she must gather the power to create a new body and return here.”

“How did she do it, then?” Eliza asked.

“She leached my powers,” Adam answered, then turned to Thorne and Miss Evernight. “She is searching for us and has put a price upon our heads. The demons appear up for the challenge.”

Thorne glanced at the chains Adam wore. “Sorry to say, mate, but you’re easy pickings trapped in those fae laces.”

Not so easy,
Adam wanted to protest. But Thorne was correct; while Adam had been able to slow down two low-level demons, he would not survive a fight with a more powerful one.

Eliza fists bunched upon her lap. “We need to get onto Lucien’s barge, only it is surely being watched.”

“What is it that you had in mind?” Thorne asked. “We have quite a bit of effective weaponry.”

Eliza’s eyes took on an interested light, but Miss Evernight shook her head, her nose wrinkling as though the idea were horrid. “I’ve an excellent way to get you onto Lucien’s barge undetected.”

H
olly had put them in a tomb. A damned underwater tomb. That was, at least, how Eliza saw it. She’d nearly turned tail and run when Holly had guided them down into her dungeon – her cellar laboratory – and then along a dank and cramped tunnel that led directly to the banks of the Thames. Hidden in an abnormally large boathouse was a strange sort of vessel that looked like an overgrown cigar.

Adam had taken one look at it and grinned so wide and pleased that he appeared to be no more than a boy. “A submariner boat. Bloody brilliant.”

Though it was Adam who appeared brilliant just then, his dark, sinful handsomeness juxtaposed against his bright smile. Even Holly appeared disconcerted for a moment. She blinked at him, then seemed to shake herself out of her fog. “Yes. I’ve been conducting test runs. She’s seaworthy and sound.”

“So this… boat,” Eliza got out, “goes underwater?”

Holly gave her a cool look. “You Yanks used such vessels during your civil war.”

“Oh, we did.” Eliza’s breakfast curdled in her belly. “Most famously the
H. L. Hunley
, which sank off the coast of Charleston.” Eliza shivered just thinking on it.

“Now, now, Miss May, where is your sense of nautical adventure?” Adam grinned at her. “Surely little girls fantasize about being pirates as well?”

“I’d rather be a highwayman and keep my feet dry,” she muttered.

Next to her, Thorne nodded sagely. “My mate is a brilliant bird, but I quite agree. It’s far too much like a coffin for my liking.”

“I thought you loved coffins, dearest,” Holly quipped.

Thorne grinned. He was a handsome devil, with a sharp beauty. Not Eliza’s particular brand of liquor, as her grandfather Aiden used to say, but striking to be sure. He caught her gaze and leaned in a bit. “Tell me true, Miss May, are you well?” He glanced at Adam, who was wrapped up in gazing longingly at Holly’s nightmarish craft. “If you need assistance —”

“I am well,” Holly assured Thorne in a low voice. “And under no duress. But thank you. It is kind of you to ask.”

“Of course.”

Adam’s gaze snapped back to her just then. “Hurry along, Miss May.”

As though he could hardly wait to get in the death trap, he all but dragged her to the pier.

For a boat that was supposed to remain underwater, the thing was far too small, perhaps twenty feet in length, and made of iron plate. Eliza’s trepidation grew as Holly opened a small, circular hatch and descended down a ladder. Eliza had no choice but to follow. Inside was as expected, narrow and suffocating. The only source of light came from a row of portal windows no bigger than dinner plates and, at the front, a curved window made of glass so thick that Eliza decided it would only be good for seeing what lay directly in their path. Not particularly comforting.

With ill grace, she sat upon one of the narrow seats that ran down the middle of the boat. Able to fit two people each, the benches were spaced in a checkerboard pattern so that the passengers’ weight was equally distributed throughout. Or so said a brusque Holly as she finished giving a dockside Thorne instructions on how to release the craft from its moorings and then closed the hatch. The sound was a dull and final boom.

It was fine. Safe. Holly was brilliant. Eliza repeated this mantra as her cousin took the captain’s seat and messed about with various nobs and levers. The engine started with a horrible buzz and made conversing impossible. Not that she’d be able to. Adam had crawled up to sit by Holly and was now having an animated discussion, involving his pointing to things of interest and generally grinning about like a child at an iced-cream cart.

Eliza braced herself as the craft gave a hard lurch and then simply sank. Gads, what a sensation. She felt as though she too were falling. Darkness descended as they slipped into the murky waters of the Thames.
Under the water.
Eliza shifted in her seat, trying not to let her thoughts run wild.

The air was hot and stale. Barely moving. Sweat trickled. Holly had promised that the trip would take no more than ten to fifteen minutes. They hadn’t very far to go to reach Lucien’s barge, but the submarine must move at a snail’s pace to avoid debris and detection.

To Eliza, every second felt an eternity. Distantly she heard the deep cadence of Adam’s voice, paired with Holly’s lighter tones. But the engine noise was too loud to understand what they were saying. Eliza closed her eyes and practiced taking even breaths.

“You look ill,” Adam said in her ear.

She yelped. From the front, Holly sent a worried look over her shoulder but soon set her attention back on her instrument panel.

“You scared the blazes out of me,” Eliza said to a still-smiling Adam.

“Apologies.” His big frame barely fit on the seat next to hers, and their shoulders pressed together.

“It’s all right.” Eliza managed to peek at him, not really wanting to open her eyes and remember where they were. “You love this.”

“The submarine?” He glanced about as though entranced. “It’s marvelous. Miss Evernight is a wonder.”

“Mmm.” Eliza tucked her clammy hands beneath her thighs in an effort to warm them. “I’d forgotten, you love technological advancements as much as she does.”

He gave a start of surprise, and his upper arm rubbed over her shoulder, so much taller was he. “You noticed that?” His voice was soft, and she fidgeted. Yes, she’d noticed. Adam had always appreciated modern conveniences, and during the time she’d spent chained by his side, he’d often pop into factories to watch great machines chug away.

Eliza filled the silence between them. “Holly would make an ideal companion for you.” It was the truth. Adam could wax on about cogs and pistons or whatever with Holly, while Eliza would likely fall asleep out of sheer boredom.

She felt him turn in her direction and forced herself to turn as well. His eyes were narrowed, his wide mouth tight, but when he spoke, his tone remained mild. “Aside from the fact that Will Thorne owns her heart, Holly Evernight and I would not do. We are both far too analytical and would bore each other within a week. ” Again he studied her. “Is this some sad attempt to drive me off?”

“Hardly.” Her laugh sounded false. “I’m merely saying, if you were to look past all this soul mate drivel, you might realize that there are women better suited for you.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his blunt chin where, even now, dark stubble grew. “And what of you? Perhaps a man such as young St. John might entice? He is, after all, your age and quite pretty to look at. I’m certain many young ladies fall in a swoon whenever he passes by.”

Eliza’s lips twitched at the way Adam could not quite hide his disgruntlement. “First, you insult me by assuming that appearance is the only attribute in a man that I, no, that my entire sex finds attractive. Second, Sin is my cousin.”

“He’s a second cousin, at the closest,” Adam countered, with an apparent dogged determination to annoy her. “Kings and queens have coupled with closer kin.”

She shot him a sidelong glare and found him grinning. “You’re teasing me.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Aye, sweet Eliza, I’m teasing. Besides” – he leaned in and murmured against her ear in his sinful voice – “you do not want to fuck him.” The tip of his tongue flicked her earlobe. “And I don’t want to fuck her.”

Eliza jumped, her face heating, her breath coming short. “And you presume to know who I’d like to
fuck
?” If he could say the word, so could she.

Adam’s nostrils flared on a sharp breath, his expression turning carnal. “No presumptions necessary. All you need do is work up the courage to ask, dove. Believe me, I shall comply.”

She wrenched her head back. Arrogant bore. She might have said so. But then the craft turned, sending her tilting and the engines groaning. Eliza’s insides pitched. Adam gave her an assessing look, then wrapped his arm about her shoulders and drew her to him. Eliza stiffened. She’d seen him nude, bathed his body, held him up, but this embraced was different. Despite her annoyance with his teasing, his hold was a comfort, his strength warm and solid, his arm secure. And she let herself sink into it, not think of anything else but the scent of his linen shirt against her nose and the delicious fragrance of his body.

All this time, she’d done an admirable job of blocking out that scent. He’d been dirty, blood soaked, and she’d been distracted. She wasn’t now. Taking another slow breath, Eliza drew more of him into her lungs. Spice, buttery rich, like Christmas cakes. His body tensed, the pectoral muscle beneath her hand lifting a bit when it tightened. She had the mad urge to dig her fingers into his solid strength. Enfolded in his arms, the noise around them was dulled, the swaying less marked. She’d almost drifted off when his hand moved. The warm weight of his palm glided up her waist, slowly, steadily.

Eliza’s eyes snapped open, but she held herself still, her heartbeat kicking into her ribs, her breath going light. Neither of them spoke. They barely moved, save his hand, which drew inexorably closer to her breast. A sweat broke over her skin. Eliza found herself moving ever so slightly forward, into his seeking touch.

He must have noticed, for he swallowed audibly. Though Eliza could not see him, she felt the shiver go down his chest and his thighs twitch. And when his palm finally slid over the swell of her breast, they both took a sharp breath. Eliza’s eyes fluttered closed. His hand engulfed her breast, warm, firm, and holding all of her attention. He gave her a little squeeze.

A huff of breath left her, and Eliza turned farther into his touch, burrowing her nose in his lumpy cravat, her fingers grasping the loose folds of his coat. A fine tremor took hold of his body, but he did not stop kneading her breast, exploring the contours of it with his fingers.

The lawn shirt, chemise, and corset she wore provided little padding against his touch, and his questing thumb soon found the nub of her nipple. He made a sound, a low grunt, and his grip around her shoulders tightened, holding her in place as the blunt tip of his thumb rubbed a torturous circle over her aching flesh.

“Adam.” It was a plea to stop. Gods, he had to stop. Her sex throbbed now, at once swelling and clenching with the need to be filled. “Holly will see.” Eliza whispered it against his neck, not knowing if he could hear. Perhaps that was the point; perhaps he wouldn’t and keep going.

But he pressed his mouth to her ear. “I don’t care.”

And then very slowly but very firmly, he pinched her tender nipple, not releasing it but building the pressure. Eliza gave a wordless cry, arching into him, a shudder of heat wracking through her. She didn’t know what she might have done, had the entire craft not come to an abrupt halt. From a distance, she heard Holly’s voice, crisp with command. “We’ve come alongside the barge.”

Lucien’s barge was, as Adam had said, deserted. And destroyed. Someone had torn through it, throwing furniture pell-mell, ripping silken drapes from their heavy brass hangers. What appeared to be a once-decadent pleasure home was now in tatters.

Adam’s strong features took on a fearsome cast as they walked down the narrow hall. “This will not go unanswered.” The man who had impudently fondled her breast and given her a wink just before they’d stepped out of the submarine was gone. This Adam stood taller, his broad shoulders practically brushing the walls, his expression fierce.

The passage ended at an ornately carved door. Inside were the remains of a dining room, a fairly large space that took up the back third of the barge. This, too, had met destruction. Adam stepped over a fallen chair, as Eliza picked her way past broken glassware, the floor sticky with spilt wine. No blood, however.

Adam stopped at the bulkhead beam running across the back picture window. Intricately carved fleurs-de-lis decorated the beam. Delicately, Adam ran the tip of his finger along one of the marks. “Long ago, the angel Augustus told me to hide anything of value in a place that will stand the test of time.”

That the man before her spoke lightly of conversing with angels had Eliza’s head reeling, but she pushed that aside. She’d long since fallen off the map of normalcy. “You remained in contact with Augustus? Even after the part he played in your curse?”

“Of course. I bear him no ill will. He did what he could to help.” Adam shrugged. “In truth, I consider Augustus a friend of sorts. One such as I does not have the opportunity to converse with many others.”

Eliza did not want to think about Adam’s years of isolation. She did not want to pity him, nor did she think he’d take kindly to her doing so. Instead she glanced about. “I’d hardly call a barge a place of lasting permanence.”

“That is because you don’t know Lucien. The man would never let his home go.” A shadow of worry fell over Adam’s countenance, but he blinked and the look was gone.

“What if it sank? Or caught fire?”

The corners of his mouth curled in a half-smile. Golden eyes glanced at her from over his shoulder. “You are quite the pessimist.”

She felt her face heat. “I’d call it practicality.”

That made his mouth curl in a half-smile, but he did not answer. Instead he pulled a pocketknife out, flicked it open, and pushed the tip into a seemingly random place. A panel slid open to reveal a hidden space within the wall. Adam reached into the space and pulled out a long, fairly wide iron box. Clearly, it weighed quite a bit, for it fell to the floor with a decided thud. He grimaced. “Bloody thing weighed naught but a feather when I did not have these bloody chains on.”