Soulbound

by Kristen Callihan

  “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.

  “Out with it, Lucien,” Adam drawled, not bothering to look up.

  Lucien glanced at Eliza, and his mouth tightened. With deliberation, he set his wine glass down and braced his forearms upon the table. “All right then, mon ami. We need to discuss what has happened.”

  Adam arched a brow. “What of it?” There was a hint of belligerence in his tone that Eliza did not understand.

  But Lucien clearly did for his expression softened. “Do you remember where you went when you died?”

  Adam’s lush mouth tightened a fraction. “Darkness. That is all. Just darkness.”

  “As did I,” admitted Lucien. “And the others. I have spoken with Daisy, and a few more. They all say the same. Darkness.” Lucien’s lacy sleeves rippled as he leaned in farther, his voice growing deeper. “It was tru
e death. Not a simple leaving of our bodies. We died, mon capitaine. You. I. The whole of us.”

  “I am aware, Lucien.” Adam resolutely did not look Eliza’s way.

  Eliza was unable to keep quiet any longer. “What is it that you are implying?”

  Lucien’s eyes held regret yet resolve. “From what my sire has told me” – at this he gave a pointed look at Adam – “he is soulbound to death. To the GIM, to be precise. Whatever is between the two of you does not negate that.”

  Adam’s lips pressed together. “You cannot be certain —”

  “Oh no? And what is it, then, that occurred this day? Merdé, but you cannot be stubborn on this.” Lucien’s fist pressed against the heavy wooden table. “If you do not take back control, continue as you have been all these years, the GIM will die out.”

  Eliza felt Lucien’s words like a punch.

  “I gather,” Eliza said to Adam, “that you did not think about your connection with the GIM when you let Mellan rip your heart out.”

  Adam shot her a glare, but it faded fast. “No,” he admitted through his teeth. “I did not then realize that the GIM were bound to me so completely. If anything, I believed that my physical death would set them free.” With a sigh, he leaned his head back against the chair. “I erred in judgment.”

  “Very well,” she said. “So you must take control over the GIM once more. Why is this a problem?”

  Adam’s scowl was dark, but it was Lucien who answered.

  “Because he wants an ordinary life. To live it with —”

  “Enough.” Adam’s order rang loud and deep over them.

  When Lucien merely looked at Adam as though daring him to deny a word, Adam’s broad chest lifted on a sigh. “It isn’t so simple, dove. As king of the GIM, I cannot solely live here. I must reside There.”

  “Here.” Lucien gestured towards the window and the lights of London, glimmering off the waters of the Thames. “There, being an alternate reality where spirits, angels, and some primus demons dwell. And then Nowhere.” A hint of a smile touched his lips. “That place that your culture would call Hell.”

  Adam nodded without enthusiasm. “In truth, the time I spent with you” – he grimaced – “when I’d chained you to me, was the longest I’d spent on this plane.”

  “But why?” Eliza would not allow the panic to creep farther up her back. She’d forge ahead, solve the problem. “Why must you live There?”

  “My power regenerates There. And I don’t merely create GIM. I collect souls. Of those who refuse to pass on to…” He hesitated then, his dark brows knitting.

  “To wherever it is that those who truly die go,” Lucien finished for him. “It is hard for Adam to explain because none of us, not even the angels, truly know where that is.” The thoughtful expression did not leave him as he reached out and refilled their three glasses of wine. “What Adam forgot, I suspect in his joy of being free from Mab, is that by being soulbound to the reluctant dead, he draws them in. If he is here, so shall they be. In far too great a number.”

  Eliza’s fingers curled tight, lest she reach out for him, demand that he stay precisely where he was. She’d never felt more alone. Blinking rapidly before tears could flow, Eliza turned away, running a finger along the carved rosette on the arm of her chair. She didn’t believe in soul mates or fate. Adam was clearly never meant to be hers. Why then did she feel so… defeated? Lost.

  “So then,” she said slowly, the words fighting past the lump of emotion in her throat. “So wherever you are, so shall the dead be.”

  Adam gave her a black look, his golden eyes glowing with fierce light then abruptly dulling. “Always.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  She found Adam in Lucien’s dining hall. He sat alone upon the ornate ebony and pearl chair. She walked farther into the room, her heels echoing in the silence.

  “I picked this chair up in China. Brought it as a gift to Lucien after he became my eyes and ears for London.” Adam’s voice was low with melancholy, and the fine curve of his mouth curled. “He fancies it his throne now.”

  “And yet he wants you to sit in it.” Eliza’s throat hurt when she spoke. Everything hurt within her.

  He stilled, the blunt tip of his finger poised above a pearl star. Golden eyes, now glowing once more with power, met hers. In them, she saw her own sorrow and need. “And so here I sit,” he said.

  Her limbs ached as she went to him. And he watched her, his big warrior’s body unmoving but tense. Eliza stopped just before the arm of his chair, close enough to feel the heat of his body, close enough to touch. “You are their king once more.”

  Adam didn’t reply. His expression was hard, his thick brows knitting over his strong nose. The scowl he wore grew, his nostrils flaring, and then he hooked his arm about her middle, hauling her in front of him. Before she could breathe, he pressed his forehead against her ribs. “Eliza.” Such pain in his voice. He gripped her skirts, his breath heating the fabric of her bodice, but said no more. Eliza’s fingers threaded through the silk of his black hair, and he sighed.

  What was there to say? Their time together was at an end. “You’ll be leaving soon?” Her question came out garbled and rough.

  Adam burrowed in closer. “Yes.” Did he want to stay? It did not matter; the GIM needed him, and they both knew as much. Eliza looked towards the windows, thick, green bottle glass windows that let in light but no view. The back of her throat prickled. Ask me to go with you.

  She almost said it aloud. But she couldn’t. Everything had been thrown off kilter. And he no longer needed her. Perhaps he never truly had.

  Eliza moved, intending to back away, when Adam lifted his head. The look in his eyes took her breath, and she tensed with sweet pain. He watched her as though he’d devour her bite by bite, taking his time, making her feel it.

  Neither of them spoke. His gaze trailed down her throat and honed in on her breasts. Those strong hands grasped the edges of her sleeves, pulling the fabric painfully tight against her flesh. Her breasts swelled against the constriction, and then he yanked. The bodice tore like paper, the sound sharp. And she bobbled forward, braced up only by his hands upon her corset. His angry scowl stayed set as he made short work of her undergarments, shredding them with nary a flinch.

  “I see you’ve regained all your strength,” she murmured, a low and steady throb building at the sight of her unbound breasts bare before his gaze.

  He didn’t answer, but merely slid his hand up her ribs, trailing a fine heat in its wake, until he cupped her breast with firm fingers. He held her where he wanted her, his grip possessive, and then he leaned forward and licked her. Eliza whimpered as the warm flat of his tongue dragged over her nipple. Dear God. The way he tasted her. Melting heat spread over her heavy breasts, licked between her thighs. Her knees grew weak, but he had her, one hand gripping her waist, the other holding her breast captive.

  His lids lowered, a small sound of need escaping him as he drew her nipple into his mouth to gently suckle it. So gently, a counterpoint to the firm way he touched her.

  “Adam.” She cupped his head and held him close.

  With a muffled sound, he wrapped his arm about her waist and brought her down upon his lap, as he kissed his way up her neck. Soft lips and warm breath. He found her earlobe and nipped it, even as his strong hands drew her tattered skirts over her knees.

  His fingers traced the soft curve of her thigh, raking over tender flesh. Such a hard touch with his warrior’s hands. Hard touch, gentle mouth. Eliza wiggled closer, needing him too. She pulled at his shirt, desperate to get at the solid heat of his chest. His skin was tight satin, and touching him did nothing to satisfy her hunger. It merely made her want him more. She wanted to touch him endlessly, taste him, fuse her flesh with his. Anything to ease this agitation. This want. Something near a growl rose up within her as she reached between them and freed his cock, wrapping her fingers around its hardness and giving it a firm tug.

  Adam hissed, his hip
s canting. Just as frenzied, his mouth moved over her, biting kisses, licks of his tongue. His wide chest rose and fell with each breath. She pressed against it, antagonizing the throbbing ache in her breasts. Adam grunted, his big hands finding her bottom. With an impatient noise, he hauled her against his cock. They both shuddered. Stilled a little.

  His mouth was at her ear, his breath a pant, as he slowly lifted her, sliding her wetness over his length. Adam trembled, his massive thighs tensing. “Take me into you, dove.”

  Eliza’s head fell to his shoulder, lust making her boneless. Hand wrapped around the root of his cock, she lifted a little, guiding him to her entrance and biting her lip as the thick, round crown pushed into her. A broken, weak cry left her.

  And then he gave her no mercy but ploughed into her. There was no more thinking. Just mindless want as he worked into her, his hands upon her arse. She found his lips. Their kiss was messy, an uncoordinated meeting of lips and tongues.

  “Adam,” she said into his mouth. “Please. Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking for, only that she needed more. It couldn’t stop, this feeling. It couldn’t end. Fear that it would rode her hard. She twined her arm about his neck, desperate to get closer still.

  And he held her secure, one hand holding the tumbled-down hair at her nape, the other clasped on her bottom. But he suddenly slowed, his movements becoming more steady, yet no less intense. And she quaked, her eyes closing, her forehead pressed to his sweaty cheek.

  “Look at me,” he rasped. “Look at me.”

  He cupped her chin, bringing her head up, holding her there. Golden eyes glowed with the power of the GIM. His power. It took her breath. His expression was near pain and filled with a tenderness that battered her heart. “There will never be another, Eliza.” His cock moved within her, slow, steady, deep. Her eyes fluttered, but he held her tightly, not letting her break eye contact. “Do you hear me? You are my first” – he thrust – “my last” – he kissed her jaw – “my forever.”