Soulbound (32 page)

Oddly, she could not picture Adam in a home. Nor a castle. She could not picture him anywhere but at her side. Whether driving her mad with irritation or out of her head with lust.

Lucien began to chuckle, the sound grating. Gods, had he guessed her thoughts?

Eliza’s face heated as he continued to laugh. “I’d like to know what you find so amusing.”

“It is Adam.” Lucien waved an idle hand, sending the cascade of lace at his sleeve swaying. “He has his little jokes, and I find they amuse me greatly at the moment.”

Eliza scowled. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Oh, how I wish to do just that one day.” Lucien straightened his expression. “The fact is,
chère
amie
, that in his realm, this barge is Adam’s.” One long, tanned finger tapped upon the pearl-inlaid chair. “This chair is his chair.”

“So… if we were to go there at this moment,” Eliza worked out slowly, “we’d find him in this barge?”

“Just so.”

Eliza could not quite wrap her head around it, but she trusted Lucien. Sitting back, she picked up her wine glass. Her heart began to pound a frantic, fearful rhythm. She was afraid. Utterly. How could she not be? Her fingers turned to ice, a fine, slick sweat breaking out over her skin.

Lucien frowned as if just noticing her terror. “
Chère
…”

Eliza’s hands trembled, sloshing the ruby red liquid about in her glass. Mustn’t spill a drop. She gave Lucien a wobbly smile, as if she were not about to be ill. “Thank you, Lucien. Your information was most helpful and makes this much easier.”

His brows rose, the heavy chair screeching as he lunged up.

But Eliza was quicker. She lifted the glass to her lips and swallowed the contents down in a painful gulp. Bitterness filled her mouth, her breath stopping short. Lucien may have shouted. She did not know. She was gone.

L
oneliness was much easier to bear when he hadn’t felt a thing. Adam had been numb, and life had been tolerable. Now, loneliness was an agony of the soul. It shredded his heart and bled into his limbs. Eternity stretched around him as a dark and bottomless hole. And he felt as though he were forever falling.

A king alone. And wasn’t that quite pathetic? True, he had his subjects here, and Lucien often came for a visit. And because Adam could no longer tolerate being alone with his thoughts, he’d let Daisy Ranulf and Mary Chase come round as well. Which was all very good. But they were not
her
.

Slumped upon his chair – the very same version of the chair he’d last made love to Eliza upon – he toyed with the stem of his glass of port. Eliza. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to think about her. But she was his every thought. His waking breath. His endless torment.

“Lord above but you look worse for wear.”

Adam’s blood stilled within his body. For a moment, he could not breathe. No. It was just a trick of his mind. She couldn’t be here. It was impossible.

“I see,” said Eliza’s voice in his head. “You’re going to ignore me now? How very ironic.”

Adam’s fists clenched reflexively. He forced his eyes open. And promptly lost his wits. The glass toppled to the floor, shattering upon impact. He paid it no mind.

There, dressed in a simple gown of deep brown, stood Eliza May. As a man starved, he drank in the sight of her. Lamplight caught the golden filaments of her hair and highlighted the cast of her creamy skin. Her wide, brown eyes gleamed, alive and quick, and the gentle curve of her cheeks were flushed.

When he did not speak, she propped her fists upon her lovely hips and narrowed her eyes. “Has the cat got your tongue? Say something, for god’s sake.”

It was the fear in her eyes, and the hurt lingering beneath it, that gave him his voice.

“You… you’re… here?” Very intelligent, that. But Adam was at a loss for words. In truth, he wondered if he might soon weep. Perhaps it was a dream.
If so, let me never wake.

“Would you rather I leave?” She made as if to turn away.

“No!” He nearly shot out of his chair but found he could not stand. His legs, nay, his entire body was all at once weak as a babe’s and yet heavy as a stone.

Eliza let out a small breath. “Right. Well then… yes, I’m here.” She winced, her cheeks coloring a bit. “Haven’t you anything to say?”

Adam licked his dry lips. “How did you…” He trailed off, afraid to ask. Afraid this was all an illusion of his desperate mind.

“I drank a glass full of cyanide.”

“Jesus Christ.” Adam smashed his fist against his chair. “How could you —”

“Well I had to, hadn’t I?” Eliza shouted back. “How else was I to get to you?”

“You died.” His voice broke, and he took a deep breath. “To get to me.”

Eliza shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don’t feel dead at all. I feel quite fine, actually.”

Adam dragged a hand over his jaw, the action sending a rasping sound into the silence. Heat and need and hope were a volatile mix within his veins. “Eliza,” he said, carefully. “You can’t go back.”

Her lovely brown eyes darkened. “I know.”

Again he swallowed, his body trembling. She was here.
Here.
He was not alone. No more.

“Why?” It came out a rasp. “Why come for me?”

No one had sacrificed themselves for him. Nor claimed him. And though he suspected,
hoped
, he needed to hear the words.

Her golden locks tumbled about her shoulders as she shook her head in apparent exasperation. “Because, you thick-headed man, I love you.”

Adam’s heart seized, terrible joy swelling within him. “You…”

Eliza tilted her head, her brown eyes narrowing. “Would it have made a difference if I had said it before? Would you have wanted me then?”

“I’ve always wanted you. I always will.”

Absently, she nodded. “And do you —”

“I love you,” he shouted, his voice wild, not his own. “Utterly. With all that I am.”

At this, she frowned. “Then why do you sit there, as if made from stone?”

He gave a disjointed, weak laugh. “Madam, I fear I’ve lost the ability to move. You’ve rendered me senseless.”

A slow, pleased smile curved her lips. “Mmm. I must admit, I rather like you at my mercy.”

With a groan, Adam launched out of his chair. In two strides, she was in his arms, her slim, warm length pressing against him. The action soothed him to the core, and his soul lit up with a sense of rightness and of peace. Finally, peace. Tears burned in his eyes. And then he claimed her mouth. Sweet, soft, luscious Eliza May.

She wrapped herself around him, her tongue seeking the same comfort. God, to kiss her again. It was better than anything else in this world or the other. He’d endure every single century all over again if he knew this waited for him at the end.

“Mercy,” he whispered against her lips. “Have mercy on me, sweet Eliza.”

She smiled, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. “Never.”

He chuckled, his hand moving to cup her plump arse. “Then torture me some more, for I am yours.”

I
n the sunlit cloisters of Westminster Abby, Sin walked alongside Augustus. Tourists strolled around them, some stopping to peer at the tombstone of a long-dead priest or valiant knight who’d been laid to rest on this hallowed ground.

As for Sin, he passed the letter he’d just received to Augustus and then pushed his hands into the pockets of his cashmere overcoat. His breath came out in a puff as he spoke. “Eliza left it all to me. Mab’s old house, her fortune, everything.” It made his skin crawl and his heart hurt. He did not want anything of Mab’s, and yet it touched him that Eliza had wanted to see him provided for. Not that he needed it; he was comfortable enough. But Eliza was the only true friend he had left, and she was far off in another world.

Augustus read Eliza’s letter with a fond look upon his face. “She is happy and well with Adam.” He lifted the little photograph that Eliza had sent along, and a smile pulled at his mouth. The grainy image showed a grinning Eliza and a stern but pleased-looking Adam standing before the Great Pyramid of Khufu at the Giza Necropolis, Eliza’s white frock blowing in the desert breeze.

Sin frowned as he looked at the photograph. “How is it that she’s in Egypt when she’s stuck in Adam’s realm?”

“You ought to understand this,” Augustus said, adopting his “professor tone” as he handed Sin the letter and photograph. “Theirs is a parallel world to ours. Therefore Khufu’s tomb stands as majestic and solid as it is here.”

Sin used care as he tucked Eliza’s letter into his pocket. His strength was immense now, and he’d yet to become accustomed to it, tearing many an article of clothing or hinges off of doors without thought.

Augustus glanced around the cloisters, and a look of melancholy softened his hard features. When he turned back to Sin, however, it was gone. “You’ve much to learn, St. John, and I’ve little time to teach it.” Deep brown eyes bore into Sin’s. “The question is, are you ready for the next chapter in your life?”

It wouldn’t be easy. Sin had been warned. He couldn’t tell a soul what he was. And he’d have to watch over the one woman he wanted more than anything in this life. He thought of Layla. Lovely and fresh and utterly out of his reach. And yet he’d endure anything to keep her safe. Sin stared up at the lapis blue sky, the sunlight warm on his face, and drew in a deep breath of the frosty, late autumn air.

“I am.”

Kristen Callihan
is a child of the eighties, which means she’s worn neon skirts, black-lace gloves and combat boots (although never all at once) and can quote John Hughes movies with the best of them. A lifelong daydreamer, she finally realised that the characters in her head needed a proper home and thus hit the keyboard. She believes that falling in love is one of the headiest experiences a person can have, so naturally she writes romance. Her love of superheroes, action movies and history led her to write historical paranormals. She lives in the Washington, D.C., area and, when not writing, looks after two children, one husband and a dog – the fish can fend for themselves.

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