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Authors: Kristen Callihan

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Victorian, #Paranormal, #Urban, #Science Fiction, #Steampunk, #Romance, #Fantasy

Soulbound (7 page)

BOOK: Soulbound
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A black scowl twisted his face as he glared at some distant point. “Fine. May I continue, or have you more complaints to heap upon my head?”

“Please do continue,” Eliza granted.

His golden gaze flicked back to her. “I want to kiss you.”

“No.” The word burst out of her with force. “Absolutely not.”

Unfazed, Adam shrugged. “Unless you have something to offer in exchange for your freedom, Mellan and Mab will, as you say, merely hunt us down, and you’ll be back to where you started.”

“Then I shall find out what he wants.” Eliza straightened her back. She could do that. She must. Like hell was she going to kiss this demon.

Adam simply gave her a slow, wicked half-smile. “Fortunately for you, lass, I already know what he wants. What they both want. More than controlling you. More than torturing me, even.”

“Then why in blazes haven’t you used it to secure your own freedom?” Eliza blurted out.

“I’m only alive because they cannot break me into revealing where this item might be.” The belligerence burning in his eyes was gone in a blink, replaced by a look of pure cunning. “However, I might be persuaded to help you use the knowledge. All I require is —”

“Fine,” she snapped, irritation getting the best of her. “I’ll kiss you.”

Silence fell, and Adam stared at her with those eyes of his. Devil’s eyes. Eyes that made a woman forget herself. Heat rose up over her breasts and crawled along the back of her neck. Eliza grasped her skirts, her fingers twitching. She would kiss him. Kiss a man who had brought her nothing but irritation. Maybe she’d bite him to boot.

His chest, gleaming with sweat, rose and fell in a soft pattern. A bead of perspiration broke free from the top of his shoulder and ran down along the firm rise of his pectoral muscles, straight toward the dark nub of his nipple. All this time arguing with him, she’d forgotten his state of undress. Not so now. She’d have to press up against those hard muscles, touch his skin. Eliza wrenched her gaze back to his face, and his sinful lips curled in a knowing smile.

“You know,” he said casually, “I believe I shall pass for the moment. I’d rather it be when you aren’t wearing such a sour face. Kills a bloke’s ardor, you realize.”

Eliza blinked. And then his meaning hit her. “Why you… rutting… cheap, trickster…”

He laughed, a flash of even teeth. “Come now, Eliza, fret not.” He stopped then, that obnoxious smile growing and heating with promise. “I’ll take that kiss soon enough.”

She rose to her feet in a rustle of skirts. “And I’ll be sure to bite that wicked tongue when you do!”

She marched out of the cell, slamming it behind her, as he began to laugh again. Bastard. She might just leave him here to rot after all. His laughing taunt echoed through the dark. “Now that I know tongues are involved, I’ll be sure to collect.”

E
liza climbed the stairs, irritation with Adam still so high that she did not take proper heed. Not until she walked directly into Mab’s path. They locked eyes, and Eliza’s skin prickled in utter terror.

“I… I heard a dog howling.” Not a lie. “I thought…” Eliza gave Mab what she hoped was a shocked look. “I did not expect to find the demon.”

It seemed an eternity ticked by as Mab’s gaze bore into her. Eliza did not flinch but let herself show the confusion and the questions that she’d first felt upon finding Adam. She’d learned long ago that, when telling a lie, walking as close to the truth as possible was the best course of action.

The silence between them grew as taut as corset boning. And then Mab spoke. “And what did you feel when you saw your tormentor trussed up like the pig that he is?”

Horror. Sorrow. “Satisfaction.” It was the emotion Mab wanted, and Eliza was going to give it to her.

Mab’s unmoving expression broke into one of pleasure. “Ah. And did you express this satisfaction to our guest?”

“No. I left.” Eliza straightened her spine. “The very sight of him sickens me.”

“Hmm…” Mab flicked a glance toward Mellan, who’d strolled up to her side, his gaze narrowing darkly on Eliza. However, Mellan merely gave Mab a nearly imperceptible nod and slipped past Eliza, going down to the cellars. Eliza’s heart pounded in protest. What would he do to Adam? Guilt hit hard. Adam had warned her. And she hadn’t listened.

Mab linked her arm through Eliza’s and guided them across the hall. “There was a time,” she said, “when humans believed in the fae. They feared. Superstition wasn’t to be mocked but to be heeded. And because of that, we grew strong.”

“Strengthened? By superstition?” Eliza couldn’t see how.

The corners of Mab’s plump lips curled. “Superstition led to vigilance. Humans took precautions. They protected themselves from the likes of us. They thought of us constantly. Now?” Her slim shoulder raised a fraction. “Science and logic have turned us into nothing more than silly myths. Something to be ignored.” Pansy-purple eyes flashed with irritation. “And our power fades.”

Despite her stern inner lecture not to react, a shiver ran through Eliza. Mab felt it, for she gave her a gentle, encouraging pat on the hand as they walked up the stairs, their skirts rustling. “But all that will soon change. We shall regain our glory.”

“We shall?” Eliza wanted to keep Mab talking of things other than Adam. But she did not like the idea of Mab having any more power.

Perhaps it was written on her face, for Mab gave her another pat. “Do not fear power, my darling. Once you learn how to wield it, it shall become your greatest joy.”

“Mab, are you truly my grandmother?”

Mab’s lips tightened. “The demon told you that, did he?” She sighed. “ ‘Grandmother’ makes me sound so very old.” With a moue of distaste, Mab touched her flawless cheek. “I do not look old, do I, dearest?”

“Not at all,” Eliza murmured by rote.

With a pleased expression, Mab shrugged. “Well, all right, then, I am your grandmother. Though I rather liked being your Auntie Mab. It had a lovely ring to it.”

“And you are the fae queen?” Eliza pressed, as if her blood did not run cold.

“Now that,” Mab said with a grin, “is a title I’ve been longing to proclaim. I did not want to reveal all too soon, lest you be too awed by my glory, but, yes, I am the fae queen.”

And not a bit vain, Eliza thought with a mental roll of her eyes.

Mab tilted her head and smiled, coy and just a bit evil. “I shall make a proper fae princess of you yet.”

That was what Eliza feared most. But she said nothing as Mab stopped at the door to the ballroom where two young, handsome footmen in brilliant green satin livery stood at attention. “Now, your first lesson.”

Mab gave a regal lift of her chin, and the footmen swept open the doors, revealing a glittering world of diamonds, silks, and flickering candlelight. The sickly sweet scent of lilies thickened the air, wafting out and curling around Eliza.

“Revenge,” Mab said, “and how to exact it.”

The crowd of richly dressed ladies and gentlemen turned as one. And as one, they all bowed in deference to Mab as she glided through the parted throng. Eliza followed; she had little choice, still snared as she was by Mab’s tight grip.

They were all young, this crowd of people. Young and beautiful. Not a single face marred by lines or time. It ought to be pleasing to the eye, but it struck Eliza as wrong and unnatural.
They are all fae.
Her supposed people. And she wanted to run as fast as she could from them.

Mab led her to a dais, upon which sat three large, gilded chairs. “Sit.”

Knees shaking, Eliza did as bidden. Eyes watched her, curious, cunning. But she paid them little heed. Her mind was on Adam.

 

Adam’s world was a little darker when Eliza left. Oh, he’d taunted and teased, wanting her to leave, but now that she was gone, he missed her. Wanted her back.

He thought of their bargain, and anticipation quickened his blood. They would be partners. And she had promised a kiss. That, he
would
collect. His mind sifted through the possibilities before settling on a less pleasant thought. Prince Mellan. The fae prince’s presence in London was unsettling. He’d been banned from this reality for centuries. Which meant the fae had found a way to move with ease, and in greater numbers, between worlds. Somewhere, a crack had formed. More agitating, Eliza was promised to Mellan. Like hell.

For that alone, Adam would have agreed to anything she demanded. Because he’d be damned if that bastard would have her. But she needed to feel as though she’d fought a fair bargain with him. Adam hadn’t let her be an equal before now. And it was wrong of him. From now on, he’d keep his wits about him and plan ahead.

So he’d follow Eliza’s plan, get her the hell away from Mellan, and find that damn horn to use as a bargaining chip.

Sighing, he eased himself into a more comfortable position, or at least one that relieved at least some of the strain upon his ribs. The cloth Eliza had set over his genitals slid sideways. Dark humor had him fighting a smile. So very considerate, his Eliza May was, to cover him. The smile faded. She’d seen him at his very worst. And the humiliation burned.

Thus, when he heard the scuff of a shoe, he did not know whether to laugh or sob. She’d returned. It had to be her. Mab never visited at night. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of long, blond hair.

“Back for more, dove?” he drawled, a smile growing despite himself.

It quickly died a swift death as a shape stepped from the shadows. Pale blond hair that fell in a straight line, eyes like cold death. Mellan. And he did not appear pleased. “I do believe you were expecting someone else, Aodh.”

Adam’s eyes went to the collar in Mellan’s hand. Whatever was in store for him would not be pleasant. Adam forced a grin. “Think of the devil and he shall find ye.”

T
he wait was not long for Eliza. The doors of the ballroom opened again. And the blood left her face. She could feel it draining. Feel her skin growing cold.

Mellan strolled in, his hand around a chain that led to a collar. Adam. Proud, cheeky Adam, now leashed like a dog. Utterly nude and covered in grime. Adam did not follow but matched Mellan’s pace, his gait steady and strong, and Eliza realized with a start that he’d been healed.

She glanced at a smug-looking Mellan and realized that the fae bastard had healed Adam for this purpose. To parade him through the crowd of cooing and tittering onlookers. To break Adam once more.

“Ah,” said Mab. “Our entertainment has arrived.”

Eliza wanted to slap the woman.

Chains still encircled Adam’s wrists, and when Mellan stopped him before the dais, two servants came and pulled those chains taut.

Mellan gave Eliza a mocking bow. “My dear Miss May, I do believe you’ve met our pet.”

As it wasn’t a question, Eliza didn’t answer. Adam did not meet her gaze but stared straight ahead.

Mellan frowned, not liking her lack of reaction. “Is this not the demon who had the audacity to enslave you?”

Murmurs went through the crowd. Eliza felt herself flush. What happened between her and Adam was no one’s business. But she could not say that here. “It is.”

“You? Blood kin to both myself and Mab?” Mellan looked around the room in outrage. “He dared to chain my future bride.”

That went over well. Now came the shock that she was supposedly promised to Mellan. Her bloody
great-uncle.
Eliza ground her teeth together but managed to keep a placid expression.

Mellan held out his hand, and a servant placed a rather large bullwhip in his grasp.

Bile rushed up Eliza’s throat. She would be ill. Her lips and fingers went numb. Whipping. Gods. Her own back began to burn. Through a haze of despair, she saw Adam’s long arms drawn wide. He caught her gaze and held it.

Horror raced through her. She did not want this. Never had she wanted this for him.

Mellan was speaking, his voice a buzz through the rushing sound in her ears. “Let us show dogs what happens when they disobey.”

The crack of the whip seemed to lash through her. Adam’s body flinched, his lips turning white. But he did not shout. Golden eyes burned into her. And she did not look away.
Watch me. Focus on me, not the pain.

Eliza did not know if he heard her plea. But his attention stayed on her.

“He watches you,” Mab murmured in her ear.

“Perhaps he dreams of revenge,” Eliza whispered lightly. She suffered no illusions about what would happen if Mab thought she and Adam had reached an accord.

“Perhaps.”

Again and again the whip fell, till blood splattered and sprayed across Mab’s white marble floor.

Adam grunted now with every strike. He had to be in agony.

Eliza sat like stone within her chair, unable to do a thing.
Make it stop. End this
.

And then it did. Mellan, sweating now, lowered the whip. Blood flecked his once-pristine white shirt and dotted his pale brow. “I think,” he said, catching Eliza’s gaze, “that I take too much, when really the pleasure ought to go to you, Miss May.”

He stretched out his hand, offering her the whip. It hung like a dark snake, the ends glistening with Adam’s blood.

Her heart beat so hard within the cage of her ribs that it was visible upon the swells of her chest. Mellan’s gaze lingered there, his nostrils flaring as if he were taking in the scent of her discomfort and enjoying it. Lust crept into his eyes as he lifted his head. Bastard. Eliza drew in a deliberate and steady breath.

She forced herself to look at Adam, let her eyes rove over his battered and unclothed body. God, but he was magnificent, the way he refused to cower but stood as straight as the chains would let him, every tight and sinewy muscle bunched and ready for a fight.

Grimy sweat ran in rivulets down the valleys of those muscles, and along the taut wall of his chest and abdomen.

Mellan walked in front of Adam, turning a bit and pointing toward him with the whip. “He is unmarked here.”

Dear God. Despite her resolve, her gaze dipped lower. Adam’s sex hung heavy and thick below a thatch of ink-black hair. Strong thighs bracketed it, but would provide little protection against the whip. Already a few telling pink stripes marred their furred expanse from where the whip had lashed around his legs. Should Eliza take up the whip, she’d be striking him where he was most vulnerable. The cruelty of it gutted her.

But she could hardly refuse to engage in this little “revenge.” It would call suspicion down upon her, and likely lead to an even greater torture for the demon.

The silence drew out and pressed down upon her shoulders. And she felt Adam’s gaze upon her, the weight of it greater than Mab’s stare or Mellan’s taunting smile. She raised her eyes, and their gazes clashed. What did he feel at this moment? She could not tell. He gave nothing away. With a calm strength she did not feel, Eliza spoke.

“Physical pain is child’s play,” she said, not looking away from Adam. “Even humans excel in dolling it out.”

A rumble rippled through the crowd.

“Explain, my dear,” said Mab in a soft voice.

Eliza gave a negligent shrug, all the while aware of Adam’s eyes upon her. “Whipping lacks imagination.”

Mellan’s golden brow lifted. “Oh? And what would you suggest to liven the festivities up?”

“The demon endures too well. To a tiresome degree.” Her back tightened as she met Adam’s eyes once more and held his stare. “I suggest humiliation instead.”

Eyes of deep, angry gold held hers. A snare from which she could not free herself. From a distance, it seemed that Mab’s voice came at her. “Is this not a humiliation?”

“No,” said Eliza, still locked in Adam’s wrathful glare. “It is giving him what he wants, an outlet for his rage. True humiliation would be him chained at my feet, as I was chained at his for all those dark days.”

A pulse jumped in Adam’s strong throat. The only indication of any emotion he might have felt.

As for the crowded room, a murmur of approval broke out.

“Oh, my dear child,” said Mab, chuckling with delight, “how proud you have made me.”

Mellan bowed low. “As you wish, my lovely.”

No, she did not wish. If anything, Eliza wished herself far from this spectacle. She wanted to go home. To Boston. But if she thought about her old home, she’d cry. So she stiffened her spine and glared at Adam. “Come, demon, at my feet where you belong.”

The long length of his body tensed, but his expression remained unreadable. The servants release him, and Mellan gave his chain a hard tug, forcing Adam forward. And then, as if deciding not to fight, he moved of his own volition.

It did not matter that he was hobbled, that the chains forced him to shuffle his steps, he walked towards her as if prowling. She swallowed past the lump in her dry throat and lifted her chin in a show of defiance. It did not help. Dark humor lit his eyes, as if he knew precisely how she was affected, and reveled in it.

He stopped before her chair. Eliza gave him a long, bland look and then met his eyes. “Sit.” She was proud that her voice did not waver.

The very room seemed to still as he stared at her, his expression blank, his body a tightly coiled wire, and then with utter grace, he knelt at her feet.

Eliza’s insides recoiled. He was so close, too close, the scent of his blood and sweat surrounding her. His gleaming chest, gently rising and falling with each breath, within touching distance. Part of her wanted to push him away, and yet, perversely, she found herself fighting a smile.
Well played, sir.
But Mab was watching, and so Eliza grabbed a length of golden chain that ran around his neck and yanked him down at her side. “I said ‘sit.’ ”

She suspected he toppled only because he allowed it. But he made as if to move away from her, and she gave the chain a rough jerk. “Stay.”

Though his jaw bunched, he did not move again, but heeded as a dog might. Revulsion churned within her belly. It did not matter what had passed between them, degrading another soul sickened her. Did he know this? Did he understand what she was trying to do? And did it matter?

Adam remained on his arse, still utterly unconcerned by his nakedness. Other men might have appeared vulnerable. But he wore his nudity like armor, letting the world see the strength and fluidity of his body.

“Well now,” exclaimed Mab happily, “shall we have some dancing?” At that, the musicians started up, and the crowd began to waltz.

Eliza looked on, pretending to be content, pretending to preen. But the heat of Adam’s body next to her thigh unnerved her further. She ignored it. And him. Yet she wished him to hear her unspoken promise.
I will get us out
.

 

Every inch of him screamed for mercy. Each breath Adam took threatened to have him fainting. His back had been flayed to nearly entirely raw meat. And yet he sat at Eliza’s feet with a sense of odd pride.

It grew when she nudge him roughly with her boot. “Do not crowd me, demon.” So cold her voice, her gaze barely straying to him, as though she found the mere sight of him distasteful.

He almost grinned. Ye gods, but she was clever. He’d known the second she glanced at the whip that she was loath to touch it. Even before that. She’d gone white as French linen the moment she understood what Mellan meant to do. Lucky for her, Mab and Mellan had been too engrossed in wanting to see him whipped to notice her expression. Had they done so, they would have realized, as he did, that she could no more torture another than she could stop her heart from beating. He’d wondered what she’d do; she had to have known she was caught between the whip and retreat.

But her choice had stunned him. It was so simple, so brilliant, her move. She’d understood Mab’s need to humiliate him. And played the fae bitch perfectly. For that alone, Adam would have knelt at her feet. Eliza had no clue that he’d shown her his deepest honor in doing so. She thought he was mocking her. Nor could he afford to enlighten her. So he played his part, making her force him down, to curl up at her feet like a dog.

As for Mab, she’d never understood that humiliation only worked if a man was unwilling. Having Eliza see him beaten by the prat Mellan? That was humiliating. But having Eliza whip him while knowing it was killing a bit of her soul with every strike? That would have been true torture.

On the other side of Eliza, Mellan sat. Adam did not need to see his face to know that his little torture session had not ended but was merely delayed by Eliza’s cunning. Mab might have been satisfied by his humiliation, but Mellan wasn’t. And he’d make Adam pay for it.

BOOK: Soulbound
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