Soulbound (20 page)

Lucien halted, his expression impassive, but there was a challenge in his eyes. He wanted a fight. Adam leaned in, hovering over the slighter man. “I want you to send word to Augustus. You know how to do this, I assume?”

It was almost amusing the way Lucien’s face clouded in confusion, save Adam wasn’t in the mood for levity.

“I do,” Lucien said finally.

“Good. Tell him that St. John is under Mab’s control. A blood bond. He may well know. But perhaps not the extent.” Adam had thought of St. John when he’d told his tale. The boy likely suffered more than simply heeding the bitch’s orders.

Frowning, Lucien gave Adam a short nod of acknowledgment. Adam let him go, giving him a warning glare that conveyed his displeasure and the knowledge that he’d soon lose his temper were Lucien not out of his sight. Smartly, his second in command quit the room with due haste, leaving Adam alone with Eliza.

“What did you say to him?” Her tone was accusatory, as though she’d protect Lucien if she must.

Adam ground his teeth together until his jaw ached. The bastard had been cupping Eliza’s cheek with tender familiarity. Touching smooth flesh that Adam ached to… He took a deep breath, fighting off the urge to roar. It did not matter that he knew Lucien had no desire for women; in his mind, Adam could almost feel the shape of his old sword handle against his palms, the weight of it and how much force he’d need to slice it. Clean through Lucien’s neck.

Temper, temper.
Adam slowed his breathing and brought his attention back to
her.
Whether or not that was wise, he did not know. As always, simply looking upon her was a kick to his gut. From the beginning, he’d felt the primal instinct to claim. A call within that shouted:
mine
. As a warrior, he’d trusted his instincts. They had kept him alive in battle. But the fiend he’d been for centuries had lived by cold calculation and logic. And his mind told him to proceed with caution. Eliza May had softened towards him, but she was still skittish.

As it was, she sat, half turned in her chair, a slender arm draped over the back of it, and glared at him, those luminous brown eyes full of wariness. It had been unsettling to see her and Lucien together, their heads nearly touching. Neither of them possessed the milk-white skin of Londoners. They shared a golden, honeyed glow, as if the sun had blessed them with its favor. Beautiful creatures both, with bold features and full lips. A pretty picture, they made. As if they belonged together.

Though Eliza held the look of the fae as well. It was in the satin gloss of her dark gold curls, and the way her eyes tipped up at the corners, their color so deep brown they held a hint of purple. And she’d been sharing a confidence with Lucien.

“Answer my questions, and I shall answer yours.” His voice sounded like rust, his throat raw, as if he had been shouting. “Is this about the fae?”

“No, not the fae —”

“Then what? You will tell me now, Eliza. I am weary of your secrets.” As soon as he made the demand, he knew he’d erred.

Her nostrils flared on a drawn breath. “You realize that I am under no obligation to tell you anything.”

Adam ran a hand over his tight jaw. “I lashed out in jealousy, dove. You ken? It… you have the unique ability to steal my reason, if I’m speaking true.” And wasn’t that bloody inconvenient, when he needed all his wits about him.

She held his gaze for a moment, then the starch went out of her shoulders, and her tone went soft. “It was nothing. I suspect Lucien was merely trying to annoy you.”

She stood, and the movement sent the light of the sun across her skin. Something glimmered there, a flash that caught his eye. Perhaps he’d seen it because his paranoia ran high at the moment, but Adam could not stop himself from reaching out and tracing his fingers along her collarbone.

Eliza stiffened, but did not back away from him. His fingers snared the invisible chain, and when he lifted it off her skin, the tiny pocket watch dangled before him. Adam stared at it, memories and a strange heaviness clamped down on his heart.

“Lucien gave it to me.” Eliza’s tone was defensive, if not slightly shaken. She was wary of the watch. Wary of him once more.

“This is mine.”
You are mine.

Her pert chin raised a notch. “Then why was it in Lucien’s possession?”

“He was keeping it safe for me.” Adam’s mind drifted off, thinking of those dark hours when Eliza had first escaped him and he knew he must give himself over to Mab. It was then he’d placed the watch in Lucien’s reluctant hand.

“This is the heart and soul of the GIM. Keep them well. Keep them safe. You are their king now.”
 

Lucien’s expression had been grim, angry.
“It is your heart and soul as well. I am but a caretaker until you can retrieve it,
mon ami
.”

Adam’s hand trembled as he lifted the piece higher, the light catching the crystal and sparking a rainbow of color against his dull coat front. “Do you know what this is?” he asked Eliza in a low voice.

“Other than a watch?” Eliza shook her head. “Lucien would not tell me. Only that I must keep it safe.” A little wrinkle formed along the bridge of her blunt, straight nose. “He said that it belonged with me.”

An odd lump filled Adam’s throat. “I suppose it does.” The watch would not have allowed itself to be worn by her if it weren’t so. “Wear it against your skin. Do not let anyone see or know of its existence.”

He knew his expression was hard, unyielding, but she needed to understand. Thankfully, she gave a solemn nod. “I will. But… If it is truly yours, then you ought to have it back.”

“No. It isn’t safe.” He met her curious gaze. “Not when Mab wants my soul.”

The pillow of her bottom lip pushed out enough to catch his attention and hold it. “Adam…”

God, but he loved the husky way in which she spoke.

“If I cannot…” She trailed off again, a huff of impatience leaving her. And then her head tilted down as if she could no longer hold it high. “What if I cannot help set you free?” she finished in a small voice.

A real fear. As he could not force her to want him. He ran his thumb along the smooth edge of the watch. “I wish…”

Her gaze was a touch on his skin. “What do you wish?”

Adam’s chest lifted on a breath, and he made himself face her. “That we could trust each other. That you would believe it when I told you I’d never hurt or betray you.”

Pansy-purple flooded her irises, so fae that something inside him balked, even as he found himself drifting closer. Or perhaps she did. It did not matter who moved, only that the soft rise of her breast brushed against his forearm, that her lips parted, the rosy color and plump curve of them tempting him to taste her again, endlessly.

“And what of you?” she asked. “Will you put your trust in me?”

He wanted to say yes. But he’d been alone, without anyone knowing his truths, for hundreds of years. And his throat closed around the word. “Tell me what you spoke of with Lucien,” he found himself saying.

Instantly, her long lashes swept down, hiding her eyes from him. “No.” She moved to step away from him, and his hand grasped the watch, holding her in place.

Eliza’s sweet mouth compressed, but she did not look up. “Let me go, Adam.”

He wanted to. Maybe that was the true way to gain her acceptance, her love. But he could not make his fingers relax. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Only then did she lift her eyes to his. “When it ceases to matter, then maybe I will.” Her step was so abrupt and swift that the watch slipped from his grasp. And so did she. Again.

“D
o you know where she’s gone?” Mab’s question came out light, almost unconcerned, but the way she pinned Sin with a stare was anything but. She’d flay him alive and enjoy it.

Sin leaned against the doorframe, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, his heart thudding against his ribs. “No.”

“Mmm…” Mab trailed one claw-tipped finger over the green velvet brocade divan where she lay. She’d summoned him to her rooms with the message to make haste. And Sin had complied. Because he could never do otherwise. Mab’s eyes turned fully purple as she watched him now. “Are you certain?”

“Madam, you’ve made certain that I cannot lie to you.”

“And yet there are ways to slip around the truth.” Again her pointed claw dragged along the fabric, deeper this time, snagging in the velvet and leaving a jagged scar in its wake. A smile curled over her carmine lips. “Isn’t there, my sweet meat?”

Revulsion caught him by the cods and held on with an icy grip. He fucking hated that nickname, and what often came after. Sin swallowed back bile. Fuck it all to hell, he was done. Done being her pawn. “Then I shall put it thusly. I made bloody well sure Eliza May would know not to trust me.”

Rage flashed in Mab’s eyes. And Sin was honest enough to admit that it terrified him. But he held still. And she suddenly laughed, showing her pointed teeth. “Clever boy. Are we growing into a man now?”

God, would he ever be clean? Or would he feel the taint of his misdeeds for a lifetime?

Mab stirred, drawing his attention back to her. A pale green silk dressing gown encased her slim body, and when she lifted her knee, the silk slid away from her white thigh. A pretty sight. It made Sin’s insides heave. She watched him with narrowed eyes as she slowly spread her legs, exposing a wet and waiting quim.

He wanted to die. He knew that now. Die, rather than touch her. And yet a fierce and sudden rage came upon him. He would not let her win. He’d not end himself because of her.

Mab drew a finger along her plump, pink seam. “Come along then, sweet meat. I require release.”

He swallowed down his hate and revulsion. Tapped it down deep inside of himself and went numb. She was nothing. His body was nothing but a receptacle for his soul. He told himself this. And it still didn’t matter. He still felt everything.

Instead of using the horrid submarine, Adam took Eliza to Kew by way of a pleasure cruise. Dressed now as a lady and gentleman of good stock, they blended in with a large group of people intent upon picnicking at Kew Gardens. However, despite the gaiety surrounding them, the trip had been somber and silent.

They disembarked without a word exchanged, and Adam set off down the country lane, his back straight and his jaw clenched.

He was angry with her, she knew. Guilt in regards to Adam was a new sensation for Eliza. Before now, her anger or withdrawal from him felt justified. They’d had a horrible courtship, if one could call it that. But the truth of the matter could not be ignored; he was courting her, if only in his odd, managing way. Eliza supposed as a battle-hardened knight turned immortal demigod – and didn’t that fact make her head spin – he had much to learn about tender feelings and tact. He’d lived his life either taking or demanding. Not that she was inclined to let him off that particular hook. Adam had been a bastard.

But he was also trying. And he was charming.
Charming the knickers right off of me
, she thought wryly. One kiss had her so hot and bothered that thinking about it left her slick and wanting. If she let him into her body? She wouldn’t be able to think straight. In truth, she wanted him. Quite desperately.

She’d hurt him when she’d refused to answer his questions. He was a proud man. Just as she was a proud woman. Had the tables been turned, she’d be stomping about, wanting to brain him with her reticule.

But the proprietary way in which he’d questioned her had irked, and Eliza had not particularly cared to answer him. Even so, the stiff set of his shoulders and his utter silence left her feeling unsettled. She’d elevated silence to an art form in her dealings with him before. Was this how he felt? Shut out and aggravated and craving a mere word or nod of acknowledgment? She swallowed down a lump of ugly emotion, but it still poured out of her with a sharp tongue. “My grandfather was a slave.”

Ahead of her Adam halted. The wind pressed his coat against his back, outlining the leanness of it. “A slave,” he repeated in a dull voice. “In the States?”

“Yes. On my mother’s side. His master set him free upon his death. Later, Grandpa Joseph served as an army surgeon in our Civil War.” A distinction of honor, even if he’d only been allowed to operate on his
own
kind.

Adam ducked his head and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

In the silence, Eliza took a breath. Did he think less of her now? She did not rightly care. Only that, if he did, she’d leave him where he stood, the world and its problems be damned. Typhoid had swept through Boston and wiped out her entire family, save Grandda Aiden and herself. But she still missed Grandpa Joseph, missed them all. And she would never be ashamed of them.

“Lucien recognized me as a
quarteron.
I am a woman of color.”

Adam’s entire body tensed, and it seemed he squeezed the bridge of his nose harder. Then with a sigh, he turned, Eliza opened her mouth – to say what – she did not know, but he hauled her close and pressed his lips against her temple. “I am a wee shite, Eliza. I know that. An utter shite, do you hear?”

She heard. But he gripped her arms as though he wanted to sink into her skin. “I chained you.”

He sounded so woebegone that she nearly smiled, but she stood stiffly in his arms, not wanting to yield to his comfort. “Adam, it ought not to matter. Chaining another is wrong, regardless of who their grandparents were.”

“I know,” he said in a small voice, his words muffled in her hair. “And yet I’m compelled to admit that I still feel worse for knowing.”

She laughed. “Your honesty is refreshing, at the very least.”

Slowly, he backed away. His expression was haunted and contrite. “Please, Eliza. Let us be friends.”

His gilded eyes looked at her as though she were everything he’d ever need, and her heart grew soft and warm. She touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “All right. Friends.”

A lock of dark hair fell over his brow as he gave a sharp nod. “Good.” He let out a breath and captured her hand in his. “Very good.”

Together they walked down the sidewalk, the sun shining bright upon them. His sword was wrapped in a large satchel that he had strapped across his back, making him look more highwayman than gentleman. “We rest here until my strength is fully restored, and then we shall return to London and set up house.”

Eliza halted, her skirts swaying. “Set up house?”

He glanced at her, and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Steady on, Eliza. We shall need a base of operations to wage our war. And then I shall take great pleasure in cleaving Mellan and Mab’s heads from their bodies.”

“You’re very certain of yourself.”

“I’ve never been more motivated, dove.” It was not a nice look that resided in his eyes.

“How can you strike against Mab? Does she not own you?” Eliza could not refrain from asking.

But he did not frown as expected. “While we are handfasted, the only one who owns me is you, Eliza.”

She ignored the way that made her shiver and followed him once more.

“Decades ago,” he said conversationally, “I lived for a time as a clockmaker.”

Eliza made a noise of amusement. And he smiled faintly. “Yes, I know. But I really do love clocks. My clockwork hearts are created by magic, but I’d always wanted to know how to do it by hand. And so I learned my trade.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“Had I my way, I’d have lived my life out doing just that.”

Eliza found herself wishing he’d be able to one day.

It felt strange to walk once more along the quaint streets where Adam had pretended to live as a mere man for a few years. Time stood still here, houses and shops being repaired instead of pulled down for newer structures. Even the flowerpots gracing the mullioned windows looked the same to Adam, as if there would always be red geraniums decorating the bookshop or purple pansies hanging in the bakery’s window.

The area was relatively safe. Many GIM lived here, mainly because Adam had purchased the bulk of the surrounding property and given them refuge. He had similar hamlets established around the world. And while Adam and Eliza were still being hunted, they’d likely have some warning before a strike.

Mellan had some honor. Now that Adam had the greater claim on Eliza through handfasting, the fae prince would likely bide his time, looking for other ways to entice her to his side.

Not bloody likely. Adam would be damned if the bastard got near her again. He merely needed something to trade. He understood Eliza’s ire in being treated as a commodity. Nor did he want to treat her as such. But facts were facts. The fae would not leave her be until they were satisfactorily appeased.

Problem was, Adam had no idea where to find this bloody golden horn. Or if it even existed, for he had a suspicion that Mellan was toying with Mab and using the myth of the horn as his bait.

Despite Adam’s worries, a sense of peace filled him as he walked along the cobbled walkway, their stones worn smooth from centuries of use, and without thinking much about it, he caught Eliza’s slim hand up with his once more.

He felt the shock of his action run down her arm and into her fingers, turning them stiff. For a moment, he thought she might pull away. But then she relaxed, inexplicably, wonderfully. She moved closer to him, walking at his side, and let him lace his fingers with hers. “Remember,” he said out of the side of his mouth, “we are man and wife here.”

“What a lovely town this is, darling,” she said in a voice that carried.

His contentment burst like a soap bubble. Right. She was merely acting the dutiful wife. He let her hand go.

“The shop is just ahead.” He gestured with his chin to the black shop sign that had a clockwork cog and the words Gimsire’s Clocks painted in gold.

“Gimsire?” Eliza murmured in amusement, her breath warm and soft against his collar.

Adam shrugged, as much as to relieve himself of the prickling heat that her nearness caused. “What can I tell you? I’m abysmal at coming up with names.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” a smile played about her full lips. “It’s quite clever to me. Very tongue-in-cheek.”

They stopped before the shop window, the faint outlines of clocks visible in the darkened store.

“So you lived as a man here?” She shook her head. “I confess, I expected you to live as a lord, taking up residence in Knightsbridge or some such place.”

It amused him to picture that. How very boring it would have been. “As king of the GIM, there were those who would see me topple, and I had no means to defend myself. Do you know, I was forbidden to raise a hand to any but my GIM?”

“So you had to hide?” Eliza said.

“When I came to London, yes. But I took the risk now and then, when the isolation of not living amongst others grew too great. And after all, few would think that a simple clockmaker was really the reviled and feared Adam of the GIM.”

“I suppose they wouldn’t.”

Slowly Adam trailed a finger over the cold glass, leaving a path in the condensation. Inside, his old worktable sat, still covered with cogs and springs, as if waiting for him to return. “I was sorry to leave this place.”

She spoke quietly, her body close to his, as though they were in their own world. “Then why did you?”

And there it was, the one thing he never thought about when he was with Eliza: the loneliness he’d felt for so many years. His voice came out in a rasp. “Time, Eliza, has never been my friend.” His reflection in the window was pale and watery. “Certain rules regarding my powers made it that I could not remain in this world for more than a few months at a time. It became tedious, keeping this shop and constantly leaving it.” Not to mention that it made him soul sick.

He turned and faced Eliza. “I paid a local to maintain the shop, keep it clean, and watch for vandals.”

Adam might have closed the shop altogether, but something inside of him could not fully let it go; he’d been happy playing the part of a respectable clockmaker, happy spending countless hours bent over his worktable, devoted to the creation of fine timepieces.

Eliza’s brown eyes deepened to purple – something that had been happening with greater frequency.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured, for she looked at him as though she’d seen into his soul.

“That you are surprisingly sentimental.” She touched his forearm, the contact sending a bolt of pleasure into his heart. “That you wear many hats. And I wonder how many have seen all of them.”

A lump rose in his throat. And he touched her with fingertips that were not quite steady. “Only you, Eliza.” And she was the only one who would, the only one he wanted to show his whole self to.