Soulbound (29 page)

T
hey’d placed him on a pallet under the window of Lucien’s great dining hall. Dressed in a simple tunic and resting on a bed of black velvet, his hands clasped on the hilt of his broken sword, Adam looked every inch the fallen knight. But peace had not eased his features.

Eliza sat by his side. The room was too hot, the light of hundreds of candles – a flame for each GIM – burning too bright for Eliza’s eyes. Yet she did not mind. She did not think on much at all. Only him.

Her hand curled around his cold and unmoving one. “Descartes said that it is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. I suspect he is right in some regard.” Eliza ran her thumb over Adam’s knuckles. “It was easy to hate you.” A strangled, half laugh, half sob left her. “I did it so well. And yet, it was so very easy to love you too, Adam.”

The light of the candles blurred as Eliza’s eyes filled. “Oh, I fought it, like a cat to a water bath. But it was of no use. Love you, I did.” Gently she stroked the back of his hand. A fighter’s hands, wide and strong. “And you must be my soul’s other half, impossible demon, for I feel so… broken.”

As if a damn had burst, she cried, tears falling fast and hot. The pain in her heart had her curling over Adam, resting her head upon his hard shoulder. And she cried. So hard that she nearly missed the faint hissing sound beneath her cheek. It grew louder, and Eliza sat up.

“Oh no.” Adam’s fine wool tunic began to disintegrate, spreading out from a patch by his chest. “No, no, no.” Eliza slapped at the slow burn, but it did not stop, and she hissed in pain when the cloth singed her fingers.

And then she froze, for it seemed as though Adam moved. Heart pounding furiously, Eliza sat, her gaze riveted to his chest and the spot where his clothing still burned away, enough now that she could see the smooth skin beneath. Skin that began to turn a healthy, golden shade.

An inarticulate cry left her as she lurched up, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. His chest moved again, a deep rise and fall. A breath.

Wordlessly, she stood. Watching. Blood rushed in her ears.
It could not be.

And yet… His dark brows twitched, a frown.

“Ahh…” Eliza stumbled forward, her hand going to his shoulder. “Adam?” Her lips felt numb. Hope was a choking thing within.

The thick fan of his black lashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened. His gaze locked on her. There it was, that visceral hit that took her breath. Every time he looked at her. Eliza found herself laughing and crying all at once. She threw herself upon him. Kissing his face, his big, stubborn nose, his soft, pliable mouth.

He lay slack, his breath coming out in weak pants, and then his strong arms crushed her to him, his fingers threading through her hair, pulling out strands in his haste. “Eliza.”

She kissed him, holding his beloved face in her hands. “Adam.” Another kiss. “How can it be?”

Adam pressed his forehead to hers. For a moment, they simply breathed. Eliza slid her finger under the ravaged edge of his tunic to stroke his smooth skin, smiling at the way his breath hitched.

He eased her back so that their eyes met. “
Bean sídhe
,” he said.

“W-what?” Eliza blinked away the tears and stared in confusion.

His mouth canted on a smile. “You. A wee and fey banshee.”

Despite her joy, indignation rocked through her. “You mean one of those ghoulish ghosts that screech and terrify villagers?”

Adam’s laugh was a deep, rolling rumble. “Oh, aye. Just as fae are tiny creatures with crystalline wings and death is eternal.”

Eliza let out a huff, but nuzzled into his warm, rough palm. “Then what? You believe me to be a banshee?”

His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek, and he gazed upon her with warm happiness. “Aye. The banshee. A rare and wonderful creature once thought to be myth. She whose mad laugh announces death, whose screech can cause it, and whose tears of sorrow can call the dead back to life.”

He gave one of her curls a gentle tug. “A golden-haired banshee, whose shout is a trumpet, heralding death.”

At that, Eliza sat up, her hand falling to his chest where his heart now beat a steady rhythm. Alive. Restored. “You think I am the Golden Horn an Bás?”

“You do not?” he countered.

Eliza stroked a lock of his ink-black hair back from his brow. “Well, I suppose you’re alive.” With a flush of discomfort, she glanced down at her hand. A banshee. It felt right. “When Mellan killed you, I screamed. Adam” – she looked at him – “I killed him without any effort, as if the scream itself held power.”

His face remained expressionless for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. “As I said, banshee.” With a small laugh, Adam eased upright, groaning a bit. “Feels as though my heart has been ripped from my body.”

Eliza smacked his shoulder. “Don’t you jest. I saw you die.” On a breath, she wrapped herself around him, pushing between his thighs where he sat upon the pallet and burying her head in the crook of his neck. The scent of spices and luscious man filled her. Adam. Eliza held on tighter. “Don’t do that again.”

“All right,
mo gradh
,” he whispered. “I will not.” The press of his lips at her crown was warm and tender.

A thought occurred to her, and she went stock still. “Adam,” she said, slowly moving away from him, “when did you suspect I was banshee?”

He winced, contrition warring with defiance in his eyes. “Love…” He ran a hand through his hair. “When you destroyed that fae with your scream, I suspected. But when you told me what that wee shite oracle revealed, I knew you were the Horn an Bás that Mellan sought.”

Eliza’s breath left her with a hiss, her body going ice cold. “You planned it,” she ground out. “You let Mellan kill you!”

“Aye,” he said. “I did. Though I didn’t think he’d do it in such a painful manner.” Again he winced, and it was all Eliza could do not to clout his thick head. He rubbed his chest. “Having your heart ripped out hurts like the devil.”

“Arse,” she shouted, slapping his shoulder once more. “How could you?”

He caught her arm and pulled her close, wrapping his arms about her in a secure hug. “Because I knew that you would bring me back. And there was no other way. Mellan had to be utterly destroyed. A banshee could do that. I could not.”

She shivered, her heart hurting at the risk he took. “You might have been wrong about me.”

“But I was not.”

“You might have told me,” she countered with ire.

He snuggled her closer. “If you knew what I had planned, you’d have talked me out of it. And you needed to act out of instinct not reason, sweet dove. End game, Eliza. I told you I’d do whatever it took to win this time. Because you are my end game, and you are too important to lose.”

Eliza pressed her nose against the smooth skin at the base of his neck and let out a breath. “If you ever risk yourself in that manner again, I shall kill you.”

“Not a very good threat, love, when I know your tears will restore me.”

“Bastard.” She pinched his side, but it was a halfhearted effort that she abandoned for kissing her way up his throat.

Adam stroked her hair. “You are in my heart too. I’ll never be sorry that I died for you.” He said it so quietly, his voice ragged and raw with emotion, that Eliza’s body responded with a rush of warmth. She lifted her head, and he touched her jaw, his golden eyes glowing. “Eliza —”

The door to the dining hall burst open, and Lucien Stone strode in, his hair falling about his shoulders, his lacy dressing shirt open to the waist. His jade green eyes were wild until they locked onto Adam. And then he seemed to sag on a sigh. “Sire. Adam… You are well.”

Adam’s smiled at his friend. “As are you.”

For a moment, Lucien simply stared and then he pressed his hand against eyes that grew red and watery. His shoulders shook as he stood at the entrance to the room. Gently, Adam moved Eliza to the side and went to Lucien. As if the GIM were his child, Adam pulled him close, and Lucien grasped at the back of Adam’s tunic, hugging him tight. His words were muffled against Adam’s shirt. “I missed you.”

When Adam rose from death, so too did the GIM. Which, in turn, scared the wits out of human Londoners. Even from the relative solitude of Lucien’s barge, one could hear the commotion running amok throughout London. The SOS was working overtime with the queen to contain the problem, using false news reports about a gas leak to pacify the fear. Not that leaking gas was anything to smile over, but at the very least it was something logical to the human mind. Better that than explain that there were those who walked about with clockwork hearts in their breasts.

As for the supernatural population of London, they breathed a sigh of relief. Or most of them did. Some demons were not at all happy that the GIM had been reborn. To which Adam replied, somewhat sardonically to Lucien, that the demon rabble could “kiss his left nut.”

“Only the left one, sire?” Lucien teased.

Adam huffed, his attention set on placing a tiny cog into the clock he’d been fixing for the past hour. “It hangs lower, and I wouldn’t want them too far up in my business.”

“Charming,” Eliza murmured. “Truly, Adam.”

He merely winked at her, his grin wide and mischievous.

Fortunately, Daisy and Mary arrived, putting an end to discussions of Adam’s lower anatomy.

Eliza rose to embrace them.

“It gladdens my heart that you are here,” she whispered when they hugged as one.

Daisy gave a wry chuckle and kissed Eliza’s cheek. “As it does mine, sweet dear.”

Mary, who was more reserved, simply nodded in agreement. “Though I am not certain who was more happy, myself for being alive once again or my husband for seeing me wake.”

“Your husband, to be sure,” Daisy murmured, her plump cheeks pink. They went deeper pink, even as her eyes crinkled with a saucy look. “If he behaved anything as mine did?”

Mary gave Daisy an exasperated look, but did not reply.

She hadn’t an opportunity, for Ian Ranulf, the lycan king and Daisy’s husband, stepped up to Eliza. He’d been quietly talking to Lucien and Adam, but now he faced her. He was a handsome man, undeniably so. Vivid blue eyes, fine features, and rich auburn hair that fell down around his shoulders. It ought to look feminine but he looked every bit the warrior Adam did.

In truth, he was a tad frightening, his expression fierce with concentration. High color darkened his face as he stared at Eliza with an intensity that was slightly unnerving. The room fell silent. But Eliza did not look around. She kept her attention on the man capable of turning into a wolf and tearing her throat out on a whim.

His nostrils flared on a sharp breath. And then he fell to his knees. His hair swung forward as he bowed his head.

“My lady,” he said in a deep burr, “you restored my wife to me, and that of my kinswoman. I am in your debt. Beyond measure. Beyond price. Consider me your servant, and I shall gladly do as ye bid.”

Eliza looked around, helplessly. Adam’s gaze met hers, his solemn yet gleaming with a bit of humor. He gave her a nod of encouragement. Just beyond him, a massive, younger man with light brown hair stood, his hand upon Mary’s shoulder. “It is so,” the man said in a voice deep with emotion.

“I…” She gaped down at the man before her. “I would not be here were it not for Daisy and Mary coming to my aid and calling Adam to me. Thus we must be even in gratitude.”

Ranulf lifted his head. “Aye, well, I’ll be contesting that claim, Miss May. You brought my world back to me. I’ll not be forgetting that, nor taking it lightly.” A spark of good humor lit his eyes. “Will you accept my thanks then?”

Eliza would not blush. Her cheeks went warm. “Of course.”

With great formality, Ranulf took her hand and pressed her knuckles to his forehead. He held her there for one long moment, then placed a kiss on the air just above her hand. With that, he rose, a graceful and lithe move Eliza had come to expect from supernaturals.

“Now then,” said Daisy, bustling over. “Enough with emotional displays. You’ll soon give poor Jack the vapors.”

Jack turned out to be the massive man with the brown hair, who snorted at this and rolled his eyes. “Only you are capable of doing that to me, Daisy.”

Then they all enjoyed a lovely dinner, in which Lucien entertained them with stories of New Orleans as it was in the last century. Then it was Ian and Adam’s turn to tell stories of the past.

It wasn’t until the dawn neared and their visitors had gone home that silence descended, and only Lucien remained, sitting opposite Eliza. As for Adam, his body was draped in a large black chair, adorned with mother of pearl, that sat at the head of the table. From the surprised looks the others had when Adam sat in it, Eliza had gathered that this was Lucien’s special chair. Lucien, however, had been the one to insist that Adam sit there.

Now, the candles burned low, leaving the table aglow with mellow light. Lucien had been quiet for some time, taking slow sips of his wine, his eyes watching the little candle flames flickering. Now his gaze went to Adam, and Lucien’s expression grew pensive.