Holly’s lips trembled. She was breaking. And she would not recover this time. But she couldn’t let him see it now. “I love you, William Thorne.” And though it hurt to do so, she reached up and pulled down his cravat, exposing the small star-shaped mark that said he was hers. Gently she kissed him there. “With all that I am.”
William whispered her name and then cupped her cheeks. His kiss was tender and fierce and not enough. His gaze burned into hers, and then, in a swirl of shadows, he was gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
Will moved as though through a cold fog. At his side, Holly’s cousin Sin followed. He didn’t want him here, didn’t want any reminders of what he was about to lose, but he could not do this alone. He needed someone to take Eliza May back to Mab.
In all likelihood, Adam would tear Will apart after this deception. And Will would not play fast and loose with Holly’s life. Thus Sin was his partner. Damn it all.
“I did not know it would play out like that,” the lad said in a small voice. “I did not know Mab would make you choose. I did not know Holly’s life was in danger because of…” Sin ducked his head, wincing.
Will’s chest tightened. “Do not speak of it. Ever again.”
He did not check to see if the boy understood or not. If he mentioned Holly again, Will would split his lip to shut him up.
When they reached the privacy of Will’s old home—for he could not return to Evernight Hall without losing his sanity—he headed towards the empty ballroom. If Adam came here, he’d need room to maneuver. If they were transported to Adam, well then he’d figure it out there.
“Do we hold hands, you think?” Sin asked, as Will pulled out the enchanted sovereign. “In case the coin takes us to him?”
Will sneered, annoyance rivaling his broken heart, then grabbed hold of the lad’s arm. “Let us see.”
He tossed the coin high and thought of Adam. Bloody, fucking Adam.
Cold air rushed by, and blackness descended. In a blink, they stood beneath a domed pavilion in the middle of an abandoned pleasure park. “Cremorne Gardens,” Will murmured, despite his rancor. He’d played here as a child.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” a deep voice remarked.
As one, Will and Sin turned. He wasn’t prepared for the sight of Adam. Hells bells. Will could not see anything particularly special about him. True, he was handsome. Will could admit that much about another man. But there was a scent, a power, coming off the fiend in waves so strong, so blatantly sensual, that an unwelcome heat stirred within Will’s belly.
Sweet Satan, but that brassed him off. At his side, Sin scowled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he too felt it.
Adam’s mouth quirked with knowing amusement. “Sorry. I don’t intend to attract men. It happens to everyone. Well,” he paused, “almost everyone.”
It was then that Will noticed the woman standing ten paces behind Adam. She was a pretty lass, with the clean yet lush features of an Evernight. Defiance lined her every curve and set her face with stony resolve. She stared through them as though they were not there. All this, Will thought bitterly, because of this one girl. And then he felt shame. She was just as much a pawn as the rest of them.
He turned his bitterness to where it would be more effective. Towards Adam.
“You wanted to see me?”
“I’d hoped to see you and Miss Evernight together.” Adam cocked a black brow. “Yet I find a boy in her place.”
Sin snorted.
“This is St. John Evernight,” Will said. “He comes in Holly’s stead because I am unwilling to risk her safety.”
“And why would you assume I’d hurt her?” Adam frowned, and a pulse of power emanated off of him. Hard enough to make the pavilion’s iron struts creak. “I do not harm those I invite to meet me. Nor can I harm humans.”
“With the old ones,” Will explained, “you can never be too careful.”
Adam gave a dry laugh. “Touché, Mr. Thorne.”
“What is it that you wanted?” Will asked, though he could guess.
“You will be approached by Mab the fae queen,” Adam said. “She will want you to return something to her.” The hard line of his jaw twitched. “Something that is not hers to take.”
Behind him, Eliza’s eyes flared with resentment.
“I gather that ‘something’ is the young lass there?” Will inclined his head towards her.
Adam’s eyes glowed, flashing brilliant gold. Will knew that look. It was a male in danger of falling into a territorial rage. This woman, Eliza, meant far more to the demon than he let on. Likely she was his mate. Which narrowed Will’s chance of survival significantly.
Easily, Will held up his hands. “You’ve a gold chain about her wrists. It stands to reason.”
Adam grunted. “You shall tell Mab no.”
“And in return?”
“I was the one who told Darby not to kill your Miss Evernight.” Adam gave him a tight smile. “So as I see it, you owe me a boon.”
Will wondered if Adam had a clue how far ahead Mab had played her hand.
“I’ll need some reassurances,” Will said instead. When Adam quirked a brow, Will went on. “Despite what you might have heard of me, I don’t harm women. I cannot in good conscience leave behind a woman if she’s being ill treated.”
It was a risk, calling Adam’s honor into question, but it was the only way. And for a moment, Will wondered if he’d failed, for rage licked over the demon’s face. But on the next breath, he calmed.
“I admire that, actually,” Adam said lightly. “As you can see, however, she is fine.” Not once did he look at Eliza.
“I’m afraid I’d rather speak to her myself. Give her a quick look-over. I won’t,” he assured, “touch her.”
Because that would certainly set the primus off.
“I’m afraid that I do not trust you that close to what is mine, sanguis.”
So Will’s reputation with females had preceded him. Undaunted, Will shrugged. “Let the boy here do it.” Sin had remained quiet, as he’d been told to do, but at that, he managed somehow to look both innocent and earnest.
Adam studied him for a moment. And then, with clear reluctance, nodded. “Be quick about it.”
At those words, Will’s heart began to churn. Sin had a fae key within his pocket. One of transport. He merely needed to touch it, and they’d be gone. Back to Mab. But Will needed to break the chain first.
Forcing a look of bland calm, he watched Sin walk steadily over to Eliza May. Far from snarling at him, Eliza gazed steadily at the boy. Had she any idea what they were about to do?
When Sin drew near, he spoke to her in a clear voice. “Are you well, Miss?”
“I am unharmed, if that’s what you mean.” She’d a flat accent, betraying her American origins. But at the sound of her voice, Adam went rigid, his entire body leaning towards her as if he craved hearing it. Will felt a twinge of sympathetic pity for him.
Sin, the brilliant lad, seemed to pick up on this as well, for he kept her talking. “I’m St. John. Though most call me Sin.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she replied. “I am Eliza. Eliza May.”
“You’re a Yank,” Sin remarked with good nature.
“And you’re a Limey.”
He laughed at that, and so did she.
At the sound of her laughter, Adam’s eyes fluttered closed. And that was when Will struck. Drawing on every ounce of power he possessed, Will flashed to shadow. He had to trust that Sin would grab hold of Eliza and do his job properly.
Will reformed a second later, right behind Adam. He grabbed hold of the golden chain and yanked it apart. The metal snapped just as Adam roared, the sound so loud and encompassing that Will’s ears rang.
“No!”
Will didn’t have to look to know Eliza and Sin were gone. Nor did he have the strength. He fell to his knees as a wave of nausea hit him. The only thought on his mind was of her. “Holly.”
“You dare remain behind?” Adam snarled. His chest was so tight that the words came out garbled, spittle flying from his lips. Only a mere thread of control kept him from tearing Thorne’s head off. But he couldn’t touch him. Perhaps Thorne knew as much because he simply regarded him with something close to compassion.
“I gave you the chance I never received,” Thorne said in his softer human voice.
“What chance?” Rage had Adam panting. It broke on a roar. “I want my property back!”
Thorne didn’t flinch. “That’s just it, mate. She’s not a piece of property. And if you want any chance of having her with you, she had to be free.”
Adam did not want to listen; he’d been searching for so long. And now she was gone. It hurt. It burned. He could barely see through his frustration. On a curse, he lashed out, smashing his fist into the stone. “You had no right.”
Thorne’s expression hardened. “Just as you and your ilk had no right to play about with my life. With Holly’s.” Something sharp and pained passed over his face, but he hardened his features. “I’ve done you a favor. A great one. If there is any logical means of thought left within you, you’ll realize this.”
Adam spun on his heel and paced. Bloody hell, but the bastard was correct. He’d achieved precisely nothing with Eliza while holding her to him.
“She can’t disappear on you,” Thorne said in a low voice. “You know who she is now.”
Aye, that he did. But that wasn’t the point. He ached when she was gone. It was a wound that bled into his damned soul. Unable to bring himself to look at Thorne, he stared unseeing into the abandoned pleasure gardens.
“What do you want,” he said, “in return for this favor?”
“Kill me or leave me alone.”
Despair hung on the man so thick that it clogged the air. Adam knew that depth of hopelessness. He felt it now. Gnashing his teeth, he bit out his reply. “Get. Out.”
Thorne turned and left without a backward glance. A man walking as if headed for the gallows.
Chapter Thirty-Two
William Halvor Thorne, seventh Marquis of Renwood, Earl of Carlay, Viscount Durham, stared into the dressing mirror and tried to find himself. But a stranger stared back at him in the reflection. For seven months he’d studied this face, and though the sharp blade of his nose, the basic shape and form of his features felt right enough, the light brown hair and pale blue eyes that made up his coloring were utterly foreign to him.
Frowning, he made a face in the mirror, peeling back his lips and baring his teeth in a primitive snarl. Even, white teeth shone in the mellow glow of the gas lamp. Wrong. Everything felt wrong. His body was sluggish, his senses dulled. He knew this to his marrow. But how could he be sure, when he could not remember his life?
A tragedy, they said. A horrible accident. Will had awakened one day to find himself in a strange bed with a ring of servants peering over him. They’d told him he was William Thorne, that he was Marquis of Renwood, and he’d hit his head while riding in the country. He couldn’t remember ever riding a horse. Everything felt off-kilter, a lie. And yet not. His name he recognized. And his house, once he’d walked through it, letting his fingers skim over oddly familiar surfaces. But those memories were filtered through a haze, as though he’d been absent for a decade rather than unconscious for months.
As for his staff, they too walked about as if in a half-dream. Oftentimes, he felt the weight of their gaze upon him, and when he turned quickly enough, he’d see their frowns, the confusion resting in their eyes. It matched his own.
Why, he’d asked Mr. Mason, his man of business, had he no friends, nor associates? Had he been an evil man? An outcast? That felt… right. Which bothered him in equal measure.
Mason’s answer only made things worse. Will had been abroad these many years, feared dead for a time. A distant cousin had taken the title, only to haul off when Will had been found. Now society wanted to meet the newly restored Marquis.
Lies.
Will knew it. But he could not prove it. He was stuck in a nightmare with no way out.
With reluctance, Will straightened the white tie at his throat and adjusted the cuffs of his evening suit. His valet could do such things for him, but Will would be damned if that man was getting near him again. Not after he’d shorn Will’s hair in a close, “proper” cut when Will had still been unconscious.
That had been the first thing he’d noticed that was off about himself. He couldn’t even explain why, but he’d known, without a shadow of doubt, that his hair ought to be long. Finding it cut short had filled him with rage.
A rage that had yet to abate. For he was missing something else. Something essential to him. And he could not remember what it was. His hands shook with it. And when they did, he caught sight of the gleaming strip of platinum that he wore about his finger.
The ring was fairly thin and of a strange woven design, as if the jeweler had twined two thin platinum threads together and wrapped them round and round. Will could almost see its creation, as if he’d been there to witness the unknown jeweler making it. The ring disturbed him most of all. His soul seemed to scream at the unfairness of life when he looked at it, yet he could not, no matter how hard he tried, compel himself to take it off.
A scratch at the door had him turning.
Mr. Mason’s round face appeared at the edge of the doorway. He caught sight of Will and smiled, disingenuous and broad. “Ah, you’re ready. Excellent. Shall we go and meet your public then, my lord?”
Absently, Will rubbed the cold spot that never warmed on his chest. His heart ached. Constantly. “Very well.”
And though he was about to greet a room of hundreds of people, he felt utterly alone.
Sin caught sight of Holly before she noticed him. In all likelihood, he might have fired a round of bullets into the air before she gave him the time of day. Though it was late, and all the other inventors had long ago left the SOS laboratory, she sat hunched over her worktable. As she had day in and day out for the past seven months.
His heart ached for her. She was too thin, her collarbones visible beneath her drab, grey gown. And she was too pale, dark circles ringing her once-bright eyes. They were dull now, seeing yet never engaged. At least she was here, at headquarters, instead of wasting away in Evernight House.
She’d gone kicking and screaming, in her own stubborn way, back to work. Forced there by the combined efforts of Mary, Poppy, and himself. In the end, Jack Talent had stepped in, thrown her over his massive shoulder, and physically removed her from her house.
Perhaps it was the ignominy of being hauled about like a side of beef, or perhaps she realized the futility of further struggle, but she’d calmed then and accepted that she needed to get back to the familiar, to life.
But she wasn’t living. Sin knew. His cousin was dying. Of sorrow and of loneliness. And though her body would go on, indefinitely it seemed, she’d slowly fade into a ghost of herself.
Anger licked through him at the thought, and the room heated about him.
On a curse, he strode forward, making certain that his boot heels struck the floor with definitive thuds. Holly stiffened as he approached. Only when he was right before her did she put down her pencil and acknowledge him. Fine lines pulled at the corners of her lips.
He stared at her for a full minute, until she scowled and broke their silence. “What is it then?”
“You are coming out with me tonight.” He’d take no argument. And he’d haul her arse with him if he had to.
Holly’s nostrils flared as though she were preparing to lash out. He beat her to it. “I need you, Hollis.” Oh, but he was playing dirty. He didn’t care. “I need your help. Please.”
She sagged, her eyes reddening. “You are a right pest, Sin.”
A lump gathered in his throat. He wanted to hold his cousin
and tell her all would be well. But he couldn’t promise that.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Holly was in hell. Consigned there by her formerly favorite cousin Sin. Hell came wrapped in a pretty package, a lovely ballroom in an equally lovely house. Crystal chandeliers dripped light upon hundreds of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. Fragrant white flowers, caught up in massive bouquets that flanked each of the large French doors, thickened the air with their perfume. A light waltz played.
All was hazy and gilded. A swirl of colorful silk skirts and smiling faces. And Holly wanted out of it. Immediately. While she could manage to push through life, putting one foot in front of the other, wearing out each day in an endless cycle, she could not tolerate happiness. She could not hear laughter without wanting to tear her heart out. Without thinking of him.
And she tried very hard not to think of him.
Heat prickled behind her eyes, the smoke coming off the candles making it worse. She turned to Sin, who stood dressed in immaculate white and black. “I cannot stay here.”
He peered down at her, his handsome face drawn in a frown. “We’ve just arrived.” His expression softened as he touched her arm. “Give it a little longer, Hol, and then we can go, I swear.”
Gripping the folds of her skirts, she nodded once and then tried to smooth the damage she’d wreaked upon the crimson satin—if only for something to do. Oh, but why had she worn this color? Why had she let Sin talk her into this dress?
Her hands shook. And so she clasped them together. She might have protested again, but Sin uttered a choked sound and turned pale. Holly followed his gaze but could see no threat, only a young woman in butter yellow taffeta. She was a pretty thing, not in a showy sort of way, but in a clean, elegant manner. Mahogany hair swept up in intricate braids gleamed in the candlelight.
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