Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

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 —”