Soulbound

by Kristen Callihan

  “Words matter.” Eliza did not know why she pressed, nor what it mattered if he did not agree.

  He appeared equally confused, his thick, dark brows knotting, a little M-shaped groove forming at the bridge of his noble nose.

  “Words, actions, feeling, they all matter, demon.” She gave a humorless smile when he scowled. “Else you wouldn’t take offense when I call you ‘demon.’ ”

  Adam’s jaw bunched, the cords on his neck visibly growing taut. “May we kindly address the matter at hand?”

  “I thought we were.”

  His straight, strong teeth snapped together with an audible clack before he spoke with a near growl. “Fine then, let us compromise. We can be handfasted instead.”

  “Handfasted?”

  “Yes,” he said with exaggerated patience. “We join hands and pledge our commitment to one another. To the fae, a handfasting is as good as marriage. The only difference is that a handfasting has an end date. It is a way for a couple to see if they would truly enjoy being married. If they do, they’ll take marriage vows.” His expression grew shuttered. “If not, they part.”

  “And…” Eliza licked her dry lips. “What would our expiration date be?” She could not believe she was even considering it. Nor did she want to examine precisely why she wasn’t running from the room and his offer.

  Adam pursed his lips. “Three weeks. Just as you promised me before.”

  Dully, Eliza nodded, not agreeing to his terms but his logic. She flicked her gaze back to his, catching the way he’d tensed, and then relaxed when her focus was on him. He must not want her to see how much this agreement meant to him.

  “How does this benefit you?” she asked.

  He seemed to solidify as if turning to stone. Oh, but his eyes. So many thoughts running behind those strangely beautiful eyes of his, calculating, weighing odds, possible scenarios. It was right there, for anyone to see, and yet he wasn’t an open book of a man. He chose to let others see this, that was equally clear. He let one know that he was thinking things through. Which somehow made it worse. For it was equally clear that, when he reached a decision to act, he’d have the upper hand.

  When he spoke, his voice was a deep well of sound within the quiet. “It benefits us both. The chains.” His nostrils flared a bit as he glanced at the irons in distaste. She understood, far too well, his hatred of them. “Just as the chain I used on you was unbreakable by anyone save those who had my magic within their blood, so is this enchanted to prevent an easy escape. These chains are worse. Not only do they leach my strength, preventing me from healing at my normal rate, but…”

  He cleared his throat, his fists rhythmically clenching upon his lap. Oddly, for once, she did not resent him in this, but empathized. Especially when his tone grew tight. “Mab wants me to be hers. And only hers.” A flush worked its way over his sharp cheekbones. “Therefore…” A strangled sound of sheer embarrassment broke from his lips, and he ducked his head, the chains clanking as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Bloody hell. They cannot be broken by anyone but my bride, aye?”

  It was her turn to utter a strangled sound, as an odd, twisted warmth bloomed over her. Embarrassment for him. Incredulity and a simmering rage toward Mab. “Are you saying,” Eliza got out, “those chains are some twisted version of a chastity belt?”

  An abrupt, awkward nod was his answer.

  Eliza found herself leaning against the slick, icy stones of the cellar. Numbly, she gripped her bent knees as though it could somehow anchor her. “You had to have known this from the beginning.”

  Adam’s wide shoulders bunched. But he raised his head. “Aye.”

  “So then, you knew your only hope of escaping those chains was to somehow convince me to be your bride.”

  His mouth went stiff. “If I had said this to you when we first bargained, you’d have turned tail and run. Am I manipulating your emotions?” Again he nodded. “I learned my lesson, coming at you with brute force. Now I proceed with caution. And Eliza?” He leaned in. “Never forget that my endgame matters most to me. But that does not mean we cannot work together to get what we both want.”

  “Well,” Eliza said, a little unsteady, “you certainly do not sugarcoat your words.”

  “I can no longer afford to.” Adam did not move. “Will you accept my offer?”

  Eliza’s gaze drifted to her lap. The truth was, she’d been hedging by purposely needling Adam. She knew it. He most certainly knew it. The ire that sparked in his golden eyes said he’d played her game long enough.

  Damnation, but her insides twisted and clenched. Her heart beat a hard pace against the base of her throat. “Always bargains and deals with you,” she muttered.

  His large body shifted, a nearly imperceptible move of his lean hips. She was too attuned to him to miss it, and her skin tightened in response. Fight or flight. She’d done both. His stare held the weight of the world, and her shoulders ached under the strain.

  “When will you realize, Eliza? You have the power. Between us. You always have.”

  Licking her dry lips, she took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to his. The face that looked back at her was hard and so very masculine that, taken in parts, his features were almost too blunt, too large. Put together, they created a tableau that took one’s breath and stirred one’s blood. He’d belong to her. This bold, charismatic creature who incited lust in nearly every being he came across.

  A heated dizziness threatened to send her crashing down. He claimed to be her other half. She, who’d crept through life, escaping notice of everyone she could.

  Husband. She would call him husband. It wouldn’t mean anything. Merely an arrangement.

  His deep voice rumbled. “Tick-tock, Eliza.”

  “Do not rush me,” she snapped, her breasts heaving against her bodice in her agitation. “You are always rushing me.”

  His hawkish gaze strayed to the motion, and his fine nostrils flared. He did not bother to look away, but spoke with rough, barely restrained patience. “Make your choice.”

  A shiver worked its way over her, drawing her skin up tight, beading her nipples. Eliza pressed her spine against the opposite wall. “All right. Let us do this thing.”

  He closed his eyes for all of one second, the look upon his face that of extreme relief mixed with wild triumph, and then he blinked, the mask of indifference falling back in place. But she’d seen. And it terrified her.

  More so when he spoke with rough command. “Come here, then.”

  “Now?” She barely kept the question from being a squeak.

  His lips curled up at one corner. “That is the general idea, dove.” He raised his hand and held it out to her. “Come,” he said softly. “Do the deed quickly and you’ll have no more cause to dread it.”

  “Don’t we need a witness?”

  “No. Pledging ourself and leaving proof of the binding will be enough. It was in the old days, so shall it be now. We’ll be needing a bit of your skirts.”

  Together, they managed to rip a length of her clothing free. “In gothic books,” she said as Adam helped her tear at the dress, “the heroine always rips her petticoats with such ease.”

  “Aye, well, the hero always manages to get neatly shot in the shoulder, so…” He began to shrug but winced. “We’ll use the chains, as well.” He laughed short and without humor. “Seems fitting, does it not, dove?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Oh, very.”

  Adam’s hand clasped Eliza’s more firmly, sensing perhaps her desire to bolt, and began to wind the strip of her dress and a length of chain around their wrists. Eliza could not look away from Adam now. If she did, she might miss something, as though Adam were an illusionist, capable of playing a sleight of hand with her very soul. And yet, he seemed nervous, the pulse at his throat visibly beating, his eyes steady upon their hands, and then on her as if he too feared he’d blink and his hopes would be gone. It was that fear mixed with hope that softened her toward
s him.

  Without thinking about it, she gave his hand a small squeeze. We do this now. Together.

  As if he read her very thoughts, he took a sharp breath, the muscled expanse of his chest visibly lifting, then nodded. “Together, Eliza, we can change our fates.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sweat dotted Eliza’s brow and trickled down her back as she made her way to bed. Her knees shook, making each step an effort. Dear God, the blood trailing down Adam’s back, the wet slap of the whip against his flesh. And having to endure him kneeling by her feet.

  A shaky breath gusted past her lips. She fretted over what she had to endure, when his plight was so much more dire. And he’d born it nobly, telling her he was proud of her quick thinking. Hardly. She was ashamed. And though their relationship had not been based upon kindness, Eliza wanted nothing more than to return to where he was kept and give him some comfort. Even if that comfort was nothing more than staying by his side in the cold darkness.

  “You do not fool me, girl.”

  Eliza halted so abruptly that her skirts swung forward around her trembling legs.

  From out of the shadows, Mellan strolled, his hands tucked into the deep pockets of his pin-striped trousers. Such a casual stance for a man whose eyes radiated dark menace. Eliza kept her back to the wall and her attention on him. He was known to strike without warning. Having been on the receiving end of his blows, Eliza had little desire to experience such an attack again.

  “I would not presume to fool you, Mellan.” She would. But it was best not to antagonize.

  A soft snort left him. “And yet here we are.” Spreading his arms, he smiled. And it chilled her blood. His smile dropped. “Mab might be arrogant enough to believe your little performance, thinking that she has you in line, but make no mistake, Eliza, I know you far too well.”

  The soft scuff of his shoe sounded in the hall as he stepped forward, his voice going lower. “You spared the GIM maker’s pain.”

  Eliza quailed. And what could she say? Swallowing hard, she held her chin up. “I’ve had enough of violence, which is why I left you.”

  “You have developed a fancy for him.”

  “I’d rather say that you’ve developed an unhealthy obsession over him.”

  Mellan made a noise of amusement. “Clever, having him sit at your feet. But then you always did like having a man pay homage to you.”

  Her stomach protested. “I do not recall having received any homage from a man.”

  In a blink, he was before her, pressing her against the door to her room with his body. “Shall I give you a demonstration now? See if it stirs any memories?”

  Eliza had quite enough of those where he was concerned. And every one of them made her sick with shame. “No. Simply find another girl. There must be plenty who want you.”

  “Now, Eliza, where is the fun in having a woman who wants me?” His fae eyes grew dark purple. “I’d much rather break a resistant lass.”

  “You did break me, Mellan.” She glared up into his face, even when everything inside of her wanted to run away, to cry like a small child might. “My association with you has brought me nothing but death and sorrow.”

  He flashed his black fangs. “You haven’t begun to understand the meaning of sorrow, little girl.” Like a rattler, he struck, his claws digging into her scalp as he clenched her hair. “You’ll do what I say, when I say it. Without question.”

  Hadn’t she always? She’d died for this man. Ironic, considering she wanted nothing more than to kill him instead. Well, no more. She’d run away with Adam and find a way to be rid of Mellan.

  His cold eyes bore into her. “You will never be free of me.” She did not flinch, did not blink, when the sharp edges of his fingernails scraped lightly along her jaw. His voice grew soft, beguiling. A prelude to sin that had her insides turning to stone. “I own you.”

  “Apparently the GIM maker has a prior claim on my soul.” The words were out before she thought them through. And she gasped as she realized what she’d said.

  Mellan, too, blinked in shock, but was quicker to recover. “So then,” he murmured, “you believe he is your soul mate?”

  “No.” She stood taller, bracing her spine when she wanted to cower. “But he does. Mab does. And if you did not, at the very least, fear it might be true, you wouldn’t bother with Adam either.”

  Slowly, he chuckled. “Smart girl. When there is a glimmer of belief, there is cause for concern.” He tugged her hair, just enough to make her wince. “Which is why we shall eradicate the situation.”

  Eliza’s throat went dry, her voice coming out in a croak. “Eradicate?”

  Mellan nodded, not taking his eyes from hers. “You shall destroy the GIM maker.”

  “No.” The denial shot out of her with such force that the sound echoed in the dim hallway.

  With a snarl, Mellan grasped her hand and squeezed until her bones ground against themselves. “I know you, Eliza. You’ll seek to bargain with Adam, thinking you’ll be free.”

  Her breath froze, her heart plummeting to her belly.

  “Oh yes, I know,” he went on in a smooth murmur. “And I will let you free him. For he will lead you to a prize I’ve been coveting.” Mellan wrenched her hand up to hold it before her face. “Let him take you, and when I have my prize, you will use this hand of death, the very one you used to kill countless others, and you will take Aodh’s life. Or I will cut that pretty head from your shoulders and place it on my bedroom mantle.”

  Vivid. And yet he was not exaggerating; she’d witnessed firsthand how he decorated his lair in Boston. Heaven help her if Mellan realized she was handfasted to Adam. On this, Adam had agreed that the fae prince should not know of it until they were well and gone.

  Mellan could clearly see the fear in her eyes, for he nodded. “Now, if you’re a good girl, and do as I say, I shall allow certain liberties once we are wed.” He tilted his head as if considering, his yellow hair sliding in a sheet over his shoulder. “I think I can agree on letting you continue your outings with Mab, and perhaps a trip or two abroad.”

  As if her whole life were decided. With him. The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed. Kill Adam and gain some glimpse of freedom. Refuse and die.

  “You once told me that my skill would not work against the supernatural.”

  “It will not work against me. You aren’t strong enough.” The corners of Mellan’s eyes crinkled in true humor. “Or did you think I’d forgotten how you tried to end me?”

  And what a disaster that had been. Her powers simply did not work on Mellan, and he’d made her suffer for days afterward, all the while laughing at her foolishness.

  Wisely, she refrained from answering the question. “And yet you think I’m strong enough to attempt Adam?”

  “Oh, I most certainly do. Nor is he a true supernatural, but merely a man cursed.”

  Eliza had grave doubts. Her power did not work that way. It was shoddy and gun-shy at best. She had terrible control and, until now, Mellan had sent her after weak spirits, men foolish enough to be caught unaware. Adam was neither of those things.

  “I am surprised,” Mellan murmured, “that you did not try to do so when he had you chained. Like chattel.”

  Hypocrite. Eliza suppressed a glare. “Whatever magic was in that chain dampened my strength.” Nor, Eliza reflected, had she wanted to try. Even then, she could not bring herself to kill. She’d been forced to do it enough as it was.

  “But now he is the one chained and weak.” Mellan flashed his fangs. “Easy pickings, Eliza.”

  For a moment, Eliza allowed herself to picture the deed, to envision Adam’s golden eyes going lifeless and dull. Whatever he was to her, he did not deserve that. No one did.

  Tears burned hot in her eyes but did not fall. They only fell when death was coming. “If Adam is my soul mate, I will not be able to take his soul without destroying my own.”

  “Well then,” Mellan said through a creeping smile, “you had bette
r pray that he is not.”

  Eliza lay in the dark. The bedding around her was a cloud of silk. Comfortable, perfect, the very luxury she’d often dreamed of. But she could not draw a clean, free breath. She thought of Adam’s flesh, slashed, his blood flowing. She’d done nothing to help him, but watched his torture, as they all did. This was the life she would live? This is what she’d become? A fanciful creature, intent on nothing more than her own pleasure? And now that Mellan had found her, he’d use her as a plaything and then toss her away. After she killed Adam.

  Her first kill had been accidental. She’d been young and terrified, alone in the world after her grandfather had died. Easy prey for predators. And when she’d walked back from the market one day, her once-kind neighbor had cornered her in the alleyway behind their row houses. Even now she remembered the stink of his breath and the grip of his sweaty hands, and it filled her with a queasy revulsion. She’d screamed then. That strange, ugly, odd scream, her hand rising to grasp his chest. And he’d simply died before her eyes.

  Eliza hadn’t felt relief, only a bone-deep terror. And then Mellan had appeared, as always, moving from dark shadows into the light.

  “Dear girl, you’re frightened.” He’d stroked her cheeks with a tender hand, this lovely, strange man. “When you should rejoice. You did this. You have the power to walk amongst the foulest creatures and never fear again.”

  How seductive it sounded back then. Come live with Mellan, be one of his crew, and all she had to do were some little favors for him.

  Eliza tossed in her bed, her stomach roiling. She hated herself for agreeing those first few times. And then, when her soul grew black with the grime of her sins, Eliza had told him no more. And he’d made her pay.

  He’d beaten her and ground her will into dust. For so long.

  Her whole life, she’d felt a bit like a cork in a vast sea, men’s expectations batting her here and there. She did not mind going where the winds took her but she wanted a sail, oars, and rudders. She wanted a say. And she was damn well through with being under the thumb of another’s will. The truth slammed into her like a rogue wave; if she wanted a say, she needed power.