Soulbound (8 page)

“D
emon? Adam?” The female voice was a soft hiss. Smooth hands touched his shoulder, awaking a world of hurt.

Adam tried to shrug it off. Only to receive a pinch on his earlobe in return. With a growl, he turned, capturing a slim wrist and hauling a body close. The female landed upon his battered body with a huff. Bad idea. That hurt. A lot.

Adam forced his eyes open. Still clinging to the wiggling mass of warm woman, he thrust her away as he tried to sit. “Quiet,” he muttered. “My head aches something fierce.”

Eliza scrambled back, her pretty face twisted up with irritation. “I was simply trying to wake you.”

“I’d rather sleep.” Now that he was awake, he was in pain. “Well then, what is it?”

Her gaze went to his shoulders, and he knew she thought of his back. And though it was dark, far darker than usual – she’d brought only a small torch by her side – he noted the pallor of her skin and the way she flinched.

“I am sorry,” she blurted out. “For tonight.”

“As am I.” Adam gave her a weak smile. “I’ll just as soon leave all whippings behind.”

“Yes, well, I meant… for the other…” She grimaced.

“You did well, lass. Did right.”

Her mouth opened in a little circle of surprise, but she quickly shut it. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

“As you said.” Adam wanted to laugh at her huff of impatience. “Though I’m thinking we’ll be better guarded from now on.” He glanced at the door. “How is that you’ve come here again? Eliza, you must take better care —”

“I made myself vomit,” she cut in with another grimace. “Took syrup of ipecac.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “I’m not certain you know, but fae have a decided revulsion for sickness.”

“I’ve yet to meet anyone who is fond of it, dove.”

She nearly grinned at that one, her cheeks plumping. “Well, upon hearing mine, they quarantined me in the guest wing. As for guarding the door, it is two in the morning now.” Eliza leaned in a bit. “Did you know that fae become lethargic at night? Those guards can barely keep their heads up. Slip a bit of valerian into their nightly tea…”

“Clever. So we leave now?”

“No.” Eliza came closer, bringing with her the scent of woman. “We need to do this carefully. We need a plan.”

Of course. Adam knew better. He’d never gone into battle without a plan of attack.

“First off,” Eliza said, “how do we get you out of those chains? I cannot find a key. Second, we’ll need some method of transport. You’re weak as a babe now.”

Humiliation curdled in his stomach. He pushed it away. There was a way to move forward. The best way. But it relied on her. Would she help him once again? What he would suggest was far worse than a mere promise to give him a chance. Likely she’d see it as a trap. And it was, of sorts.

Her gaze was a hot hand sliding over his skin, and sweat broke out at the base of his neck. He clenched his hands, conscious of the chains pooled upon his lap and the way they rattled with the slightest move. Those bloody chains, they drained him of his strength even as his body fought to heal itself.

Taking another breath, Adam forced himself to face her, to appear as though her answer did not mean everything.

“Yes, as to that. We have a predicament, dove. Two actually. Mab has a key, likely held in her rooms, but that will only unchain me from the wall. These” – he refused to glance at his wrists – “will be harder to be rid of.”

“So how —”

“Which,” he cut in, “leads us to the second issue. I saw the way Mellan looked at you tonight. It is clear that he has a greater interest in you than expected. He won’t stop until he makes you his.”

She flushed at that, her chin dipping. “You don’t know that —”

“I do.” Adam had heard the desperation in Mellan’s voice. It matched the one in his own soul. “And I believe you do as well.”

He almost smiled at the way her sweet mouth pursed. She wanted to argue, but couldn’t. Eliza was stubborn as the year was long but she had a streak of honesty that rivaled any knight’s. Proven when she squared her shoulders. “Fine, he does appear to be… insistent.”

To put it mildly. Adam assumed a restful pose, when he was anything but. His heart was pounding now. “It is clear he wants something from you.” Adam smiled when her neck turned pink. “Aside from your feminine charms.”

“I can’t imagine what it would be,” she said, her lithe frame tight.

He shifted a bit, and the chains rattled. “The fact remains, you are vulnerable. You accepted his suit, forced though it was, which means he has a claim on you.”

Eliza puffed up, the plump swell of her bosom lifting beneath her tatty shirtwaist. “As much as he’d like to believe otherwise, he has no claim on me. A lady may reject a suit at any time.”

“We are not discussing human society. We’re speaking of fae law.” Adam pinned her with a look because he could sense she wanted to avoid the truth. “He can force you into a fae marriage, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you suggest then?”

Oh, he didn’t want to smile, though sheer nerves made his lips twitch. Nor did he want to hear yet another rejection from her. But there was no going back. “The only way to get out of his reach is to make yourself unwed no longer. Take a husband.” He stared her down, noting the growing horror upon her face. “Take me.”

For a thick, silent moment, Eliza fought to find her voice. When she did, it burst forth as a near laugh. “Oh, well played, sir. You had me walking down that trail of deceit once again.”

Adam’s scowl was a fearsome thing. The harsh lines of his handsome face made it so. Golden eyes narrowed to mere slits as he growled, “’Tis no jest, Miss May, nor a line of deceit.”

“Oh? Take
you
for a husband?” Her pulse thudded at the base of her throat. “And to think I was beginning to believe you were truly trying to help me. When all you were doing is finding another way to bind me to you.”

A snarl left his lips as he sat upright. That he was chained against the wall in no way diminished him. Likely he’d appear as regal as a king in any situation. “Enough,” he said. “Gods, but you accuse me of conceit.” He leaned forward a bit, his big fists clenching. “I am helping you. The curse does not abate unless you truly believe me to be an essential part of your soul. Marriage is not that bond. It is merely a contract between two persons.”

“For someone who professes to believe in soul mates and destiny, you’ve a rather dim view of marriage.”

Adam sighed expansively. “This modern world makes confusion where there need not be any. Do you honestly believe that speaking a few vows to one another assures everlasting love?”

The scorn in his voice scraped along her nerves.

“No, but —”

“Love,” he spoke over her, “is feeling, how you treat a person, not spouting pretty words.”

“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.