Soulbound

by Kristen Callihan

  She kissed him, her lips barely brushing his, her tongue lightly licking along the edge of his mouth as they shared a breath. “Yes, Adam.” She suckled his bottom lip. “Yes.”

  He swallowed audibly, his big body trembling, his movements becoming disjointed once more. “Eliza.”

  He sounded broken.

  And so she kissed him again as she clenched her inner walls, clamping down tight on him. “Come home, Adam. Come home to me.”

  She hardly knew what she was saying, only that she would be his home if he’d let her. But he understood. On a loud groan, he thrust into her, the tip of his thumb finding her sex and worrying it as he pumped. That touch, and the feel of his open mouth against the sensitive skin of her neck, sent her spiraling. Cool heat pushed through her, and Eliza tensed with a whimper of pleasure.

  He held back no longer. Shouting his release, he bucked into her, frantic, violent. Until he finished, his hips grinding into hers, his body rock hard. And then he collapsed back against the chair, taking her with him.

  Shaking, she clung to him, her breasts crushed against his damp chest. Despite the way he panted, sweat slicking his skin, he was solid, eternal in his strength. His wide palm, roughened by calluses, explored her back with long strokes. He held her as if he’d never let her go.

  And yet she could feel him mentally drawing away. All those pretty words, and she knew he wasn’t making promises. But saying good-bye.

  Eliza’s fingers dug into the hard curves of his shoulders. “Ask me to go with you. Ask me to be yours.”

  She hadn’t meant to say it. And yet she wanted it with her entire soul.

  He froze, the corded muscles of his arms clenching tight, and his palm stilled. Gods, but she could feel the tension gathering within him, making her insides seize. Tears burned in her eyes even before he spoke. And when he did, his voice held the finality of death. “No.”

  Eliza left him. Adam did not blame her in the least. He’d been a cruel bastard. He’d turned her away. And ripped out his own heart in the process. Alone, he sat in the chair he’d made love to her in. Echoes of what they’d done, of her passion, the ripe warm feel of her body, haunted him. He ached for her. In a way he’d never thought existed. All these centuries, he believed loving a woman would be the making of him. How wrong he’d been.

  He wanted to die. He, the king of death. Adam snorted, and it came out as a pathetic dark sob.

  “I see we are not our best at the moment.”

  Lucien’s voice had him jumping within his skin. Adam winced at the sight of him, resplendent in cobalt blue and sunshine yellow.

  “Christ, you look a parrot.”

  Lucien lifted an elegant brow before running a hand down his satin coat. “Admit it, mon ami, you’ve always been jealous of my plumage.”

  “Oh, aye,” Adam drawled. “I’d look a treat kitted out like a pretty dandy.”

  “That you would,” Lucien murmured, eyeing him with frank appreciation. A rare show of his true appetites and one designed to discomfort Adam. It didn’t, but Lucien’s constant needling did.

  Scowling, Adam shifted in his seat. “I’m in no mood to spar with you today, Lucien. Tell me what you want and go.”

  “Ah,” said Lucien lightly, “but of course, you’d rather sit here and wallow in misplaced pride.”

  A haze of blackness rushed over Adam’s vision. “You think this is about my pride?” His shout reverberated throughout the room. “Smarmy arse! I’ve no pride left when it comes to her.” Adam’s fists pushed against the table until it groaned in protest. “It is about my children, my GIM. It is about you, Lucien. You and every one of my GIM will die if I do not return to what I was, as you so kindly pointed out last night. So do not presume to come and lecture me now!”

  Lucien’s pale green eyes remained pallid. “So then, you shall sacrifice your love for the greater good, is that it? Most noble of you, mon capitaine.”

  Adam’s teeth met. “My patience wears thin, imp.”

  Lucien’s soft chuckle rumbled. “I have that effect.” He shrugged, the cascade of lace at his throat sliding over his cobalt waistcoat. “So make her your queen. Bring her with you.”

  “Jesus.” Adam raked his fingers along his aching skull. It was either that or punch his old friend in the throat. “Have you gone completely daft, Lucien? Or has love addled your brain as well?”

  Lucien went milk white, his fine nostrils flaring on a sharp breath as his irises began to glow with green light.

  “Oh aye,” Adam went on, wanting to hurt. “You think I don’t know. You talk of making difficult decisions as though it were so very easy. When you turn your back on the sacrifices you must make for your own happiness.”

  “We are not discussing me,” Lucien shot back, his usually smooth voice a near roar. Red faced, he pounded his walking stick into the wooden floor of the barge. “And my dilemma is nothing like yours. She loves you. And you her.”

  “You know damn well that if Eliza were to come with me, she’d have to die.” The very thought was a spear through his heart. “Death, Lucien, when she’s fought to live for so long.”

  And they both knew Adam could not even make her a GIM. She was too much fae, the one creature who could never be turned. And she was his soul mate.

  “She loves you.” Lucien’s voice was a ghost. “That means… everything.”

  Guilt and shame punched into Adam. Lucien sounded as torn as he.

  “I struck low and dishonorably,” Adam said. “Forgive me.”

  Lucien gave him a short nod. “And I pushed you hard. But it is done out of my love for you.” He leaned in, his expression earnest. “Can you not see? All is not lost if she were to —”

  “She’d be stuck There. And I…” His voice left him for a humiliating moment. “I’ll not see her fade away, lost to life, solely because of me.” Adam blinked down at the rough, worn edges of Lucien’s table. “I’m giving her up. Because I love her.”

  The distant clank of a ship’s bell drifted over the room, and Lucien sighed, as he moved to the sideboard and poured them both a glass of claret. Adam accepted it with a numb hand and then drank it down in one gulp. He’d have preferred whisky, but suspected Lucien was still cross enough with him not to have offered it.

  Lucien sat across from him and took a sip of wine.

  “You want to know the worst of it?” Adam murmured.

  “Oh, there’s more?”

  Adam glared but then his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m tempted to choose her.” So very badly.

  “It shames you that you’d prefer love and happiness over holding up the lives of thousands.” Lucien shrugged again. “And here I thought this is what makes you so very human. For once.”

  A snort left Adam, and he slumped in his chair, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “All too soon, I’ll be as far from human as one can get, my friend.” And he’d have an eternity to remember Eliza.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Adam left London on a sun-filled day. No rain for him, only clear skies and that rare and lovely weather that made Londoners flock to the outdoors. Cursing the weather, and heavy of heart, Adam moved away from the hot sunshine and stepped into the shadows provided by a large elm tree. Across the lane, Eliza sat in the window seat of Mab’s grand house. Lucien had told him that Mab’s possessions would go to Eliza. Good.

  Adam had left all his worldly goods to Eliza at any rate. He’d amassed a king’s fortune several times over, and he wanted her to have it. He would not be returning to London. He wouldn’t be able to stand it, not when he knew she’d be here, within reach but never obtainable.

  Under his collar, his clock rested against his skin. Eliza had taken it off just before they’d parted, her expression void of any emotion. I no longer need to keep this safe. It is yours once more. And it had felt as though she’d torn his heart out all over again. But he’d said nothing, nor protested when she walked away.

  The clock ticked a steady rhy
thm, power flowing through it and into him. Once more, he felt each and every soul he’d saved as if they surrounded him. With stiff movements, he pressed his hand to his chest. He’d literally experienced having his heart ripped out, and yet this was worse. Physical pain eventually ended, the lights dimmed, and the mind shut off. Enduring without happiness or hope, that was the true hell. And his happiness sat across the way. She lived, and he would hold that thought close to him. She’d live a full and adventurous life, just as she’d dreamed of doing.

  Behind the window, Eliza stared out onto the street. She could not see him now; he was invisible to the living. Even so, he hid in the shadows, afraid that she might catch a glimpse of his spirit. If he stopped to say good-bye or explain himself, he would never leave.

  Logically, Adam understood that he ought to lay the choice at her feet. But everything in him protested at asking her to leave this world. For centuries he’d wanted nothing more than to be a normal man once more. He would not, could not, offer her anything less than a normal life.

  Eliza stirred, sunlight gleaming in her hair and caressing the curve of her cheek. A lump rose hard in Adam’s throat, choking him. And he turned away, unable to look upon her a moment longer. It took but a thought and the black door to his own personal hell opened up before him. Adam stepped into it without looking back.

  He’d left without saying good-bye. It ought to have hurt the most, this slight, but it did not. No, Eliza was far more hurt by the simple fact that Adam had left her. The when and how of it meant little in the face of that rejection.

  Alone, she sat, as she’d done every day for the past few months, in the window seat of Mab’s house. Her house now.

  Shortly after Adam had disappeared from Lucien’s barge, from this world entirely, a solicitor came to visit Eliza. A fae solicitor as it turned out. The little man, dressed in a velvet suit of forest green, had given her a neat bow and introduced himself as Mr. Marcus. Combined with his bright red hair and smattering of freckles across his nose, he bore an unfortunate resemblance to one of those cartoon leprechauns that merchants liked to paste up in their shops come St. Patrick’s Day. Or they did in Boston. Eliza did not know if anyone celebrated here in London.

  “I did not realize that fae occupied such professions,” Eliza had mused.

  “I can’t see why not,” Mr. Marcus had said sensibly. “We’ve claims and courts just like any other.”

  Well then.

  And it turned out that she now owned all of Mab’s estate. Eliza was also the most natural candidate to take over the throne. “However,” Mr. Marcus went on to explain, “should you not take up the claim, there are many others most willing to do so.”

  Eliza could just bet. “Let them at it, Mr. Marcus. I’m of this world, and here is where I intend to say.” Eliza might have gone to Adam’s domain, if he’d but asked. No. She would not think of that.

  And so she took up Mab’s estate, despite the fact that the house felt repugnant to her. For where else was she to go? She might stay with Daisy, or one of her sisters, Poppy or Miranda, who were also Eliza’s distant cousins. And Holly Evernight had extended an offer as well. But all of them had families, husbands who loved them. And Eliza was in no mood to live amongst marital bliss, thank you very much.

  As for Sin, he’d disappeared. Not a soul knew where he had gone, though his sisters seemed quite tight-lipped and cagey about the subject. Now Eliza had a fine home, one on which she’d spent a fortune – Mab’s old fortune – to have redone. Gone were the gaudy trappings, the endless greens and ornate flowering brocades.

  Eliza gravitated toward simple luxury now. Understated creams, blues, and golds. Calm and peaceful. Nothing like how she felt inside, empty and aching.

  “Don’t you look a sight,” said a man’s voice.

  Eliza nearly jumped out of her skin, her heart rearing up into her throat. Pressing her hand upon her breast, she turned and glared. “St. John Evernight, you gave me a fright.”

  Sin, looking far too pale and thin, gave a small smile. “Apologies. I’ve been told I walk on cat’s feet.” His expression dimmed at that, and he gave a negligent shrug. “I thought you might like some company.”

  “I would…” Eliza shook herself out of her shocked state. “I was just thinking of you.”

  “Not too terrible thoughts, I hope?” He appeared to expect the opposite.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. But where have you been? Everyone is concerned.”

  He shook his head, appearing bemused. “I’ve grave doubts that everyone is. In truth, my sisters are not happy with me at the moment.”

  “They found out about your bond with Mab.”

  “Close enough.” He winced and rubbed a spot over his chest.

  Eliza hurt for the way he so clearly hated himself. “Well, I worried. I care.”

  “You’re too good to me, cousin.” But his shoulders relaxed a bit as he sat in the chair opposite her and offered a small, weak smile.

  “Nonsense. I could be better.” Eliza leaned forward. “Stay here with me, Sin. As you can see, I’ve cleaned house.”

  “Yes,” he said, glancing about, “and quite nicely at that. I approve. But I cannot stay.”

  “Mab is dead. Do not let her memory hurt you.”

  He made a small sound of dry humor. “Believe me, no one is more glad of that fact than I.”

  “Which means you are free.”

  “Yes.” He did not sound happy but weary.

  “Then why haven’t you returned home? Why can’t you stay?”

  He glanced towards the window, and the morning sun cast his fine feature in harsh light. “I think it best if I go away for a while. See what there is of the world.” He turned back, his green eyes searching. “You could come with me, if you’d like. We could have an adventure or two.”

  It was just the thing Eliza had always yearned to do. But she no longer wanted to do it with anyone else but the man who’d left her behind. Perhaps that knowledge was clear upon her face, for Sin’s hopeful expression dimmed.

  He slouched in his chair. “I’ve heard Adam has gone for good.” His tone was gentle.

  Not that it mattered. It still hurt. Far more than Eliza wanted it to. Blasted Adam. “Yes.”

  Sin peered at her. “So then you never warmed to him?”

  “Must we discuss this?” Eliza plucked at her sleeve, then curled her legs up and under her within the well of her comfortable chair.

  “We might talk of other things, yes.” Sin shrugged. “Only you appear… sad, cousin. Like your heart’s been broken.”

  Before she could stop it, her eyes instantly watered, and a horrible sniffle broke free. “Oh, well, it’s better to have loved and lost… Hell, I can’t even finish that nonsense.” Eliza wrenched herself from the chair and went to the window, only to walk away. She was pacing. Which was never a good sign.

  “You love him, then.”

  Sin’s quiet conviction slashed into wounds that had yet to scab over. Eliza sucked in a breath. “What does it matter? He did not want me to go with him.”

  The mantle clock ticked merrily away, a rapid click, click, click. Eliza was of a mind to toss the timepiece out the window.

  “Eliza,” Sin said softly, “you do realize that for you to have gone with Adam to his world, you would have had to leave this one?”

  Eliza’s breath stilled. Slowly she turned. “What do you mean?”

  Sin’s handsome face was somber. “I mean, dear girl, that Adam’s realm is of the dead. The living cannot go there.”

  “So I would have to die?”

  “It isn’t really death though, is it?” Sin ran a hand over his mouth, his brows drawing close. “I mean, you are not of this body, but of the soul that resides within?”

  “I’ve been a spirit, Sin,” Eliza said through dry lips. “It was not very pleasant.” She’d felt nothing, just as Adam had felt nothing for centuries. Adam. She missed him so very much.

  “That is because you were hoverin
g here. From how Daisy tells it” – a shadow filled his eyes upon the mention of his sister – “when you are There, you feel as whole and as real as you were on this side of the coin. As if you were alive There and a spirit Here.”

  “So I would be as I am here but with —”

  “Him,” Sin finished for her. “Yes.” He hesitated, wincing slightly. “But you wouldn’t be able to come back here. I don’t believe so, at any rate.”

  Eliza pinched the bridge of her nose, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. “Not every soul goes to him. Some move on.” True death, Adam and Lucien had called it, to a place no one living had ever been. What if she were to end up there?

  “You are Adam’s soul mate, are you not? His other half? You’ll go where he goes.” Sin stared at her. “Or do you believe that was all Mab’s nonsense?”

  Eliza sagged against the arm of her couch. “He let me go,” she said helplessly. “What is to say he even believes in us?”

  “Or maybe he let you go because he loved you too much to ask you to leave this life behind?”

  “That ought to have been my decision, if that were so.”

  “Then there’s naught for it,” Sin said decidedly. “Make the decision now. Do you love him enough to risk everything?”

  Lucien was reading a book when Eliza arrived. The sight of him, sitting in a reading chair, a pair of spectacles perched on his perfectly shaped nose, was so incongruous with how he usually presented himself to the world that Eliza stopped short.

  As for Lucien, he closed the book with a muted thud of the pages and set it aside. His smile was genuine if not sad as he took off his glasses and stood. “This is a nice surprise, ma chère.”

  “I hope I have not intruded upon your quiet time.” Eliza took another step farther into the room, near the drinks table placed against the wall.

  “Hardly,” he said with a slight wave of his hand. “And I shall always be here for you, my lady.”

  She wasn’t a lady. But she supposed he was trying to be kind.