Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

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.

More so when he spoke with rough command. “Come here, then.”

“Now?” She barely kept the question from being a squeak.

His lips curled up at one corner. “That is the general idea, dove.” He raised his hand and held it out to her. “Come,” he said softly. “Do the deed quickly and you’ll have no more cause to dread it.”

“Don’t we need a witness?”

“No. Pledging ourself and leaving proof of the binding will be enough. It was in the old days, so shall it be now. We’ll be needing a bit of your skirts.”

Together, they managed to rip a length of her clothing free. “In gothic books,” she said as Adam helped her tear at the dress, “the heroine always rips her petticoats with such ease.”

“Aye, well, the hero always manages to get neatly shot in the shoulder, so…” He began to shrug but winced. “We’ll use the chains, as well.” He laughed short and without humor. “Seems fitting, does it not, dove?”

She couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Oh, very.”

Adam’s hand clasped Eliza’s more firmly, sensing perhaps her desire to bolt, and began to wind the strip of her dress and a length of chain around their wrists. Eliza could not look away from Adam now. If she did, she might miss something, as though Adam were an illusionist, capable of playing a sleight of hand with her very soul. And yet, he seemed nervous, the pulse at his throat visibly beating, his eyes steady upon their hands, and then on her as if he too feared he’d blink and his hopes would be gone. It was that fear mixed with hope that softened her towards him.

Without thinking about it, she gave his hand a small squeeze. We do this now. Together.

As if he read her very thoughts, he took a sharp breath, the muscled expanse of his chest visibly lifting, then nodded. “Together, Eliza, we can change our fates.”

Chapter Seven

Sweat dotted Eliza’s brow and trickled down her back as she made her way to bed. Her knees shook, making each step an effort. Dear God, the blood trailing down Adam’s back, the wet slap of the whip against his flesh. And having to endure him kneeling by her feet.

A shaky breath gusted past her lips. She fretted over what she had to endure, when his plight was so much more dire. And he’d born it nobly, telling her he was proud of her quick thinking. Hardly. She was ashamed. And though their relationship had not been based upon kindness, Eliza wanted nothing more than to return to where he was kept and give him some comfort. Even if that comfort was nothing more than staying by his side in the cold darkness.

“You do not fool me, girl.”

Eliza halted so abruptly that her skirts swung forward around her trembling legs.

From out of the shadows, Mellan strolled, his hands tucked into the deep pockets of his pin-striped trousers. Such a casual stance for a man whose eyes radiated dark menace. Eliza kept her back to the wall and her attention on him. He was known to strike without warning. Having been on the receiving end of his blows, Eliza had little desire to experience such an attack again.

“I would not presume to fool you, Mellan.” She would. But it was best not to antagonize.

A soft snort left him. “And yet here we are.” Spreading his arms, he smiled. And it chilled her blood. His smile dropped. “Mab might be arrogant enough to believe your little performance, thinking that she has you in line, but make no mistake, Eliza, I know you far too well.”

The soft scuff of his shoe sounded in the hall as he stepped forward, his voice going lower. “You spared the GIM maker’s pain.”

Eliza quailed. And what could she say? Swallowing hard, she held her chin up. “I’ve had enough of violence, which is why I left you.”

“You have developed a fancy for him.”

“I’d rather say that you’ve developed an unhealthy obsession over him.”

Mellan made a noise of amusement. “Clever, having him sit at your feet. But then you always did like having a man pay homage to you.”

Her stomach protested. “I do not recall having received any homage from a man.”

In a blink, he was before her, pressing her against the door to her room with his body. “Shall I give you a demonstration now? See if it stirs any memories?”

Eliza had quite enough of those where he was concerned. And every one of them made her sick with shame. “No. Simply find another girl. There must be plenty who want you.”

“Now, Eliza, where is the fun in having a woman who wants me?” His fae eyes grew dark purple. “I’d much rather break a resistant lass.”

“You did break me, Mellan.” She glared up into his face, even when everything inside of her wanted to run away, to cry like a small child might. “My association with you has brought me nothing but death and sorrow.”

He flashed his black fangs. “You haven’t begun to understand the meaning of sorrow, little girl.” Like a rattler, he struck, his claws digging into her scalp as he clenched her hair. “You’ll do what I say, when I say it. Without question.”