Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

Hadn’t she always? She’d died for this man. Ironic, considering she wanted nothing more than to kill him instead. Well, no more. She’d run away with Adam and find a way to be rid of Mellan.

His cold eyes bore into her. “You will never be free of me.” She did not flinch, did not blink, when the sharp edges of his fingernails scraped lightly along her jaw. His voice grew soft, beguiling. A prelude to sin that had her insides turning to stone. “I own you.”

“Apparently the GIM maker has a prior claim on my soul.” The words were out before she thought them through. And she gasped as she realized what she’d said.

Mellan, too, blinked in shock, but was quicker to recover. “So then,” he murmured, “you believe he is your soul mate?”

“No.” She stood taller, bracing her spine when she wanted to cower. “But he does. Mab does. And if you did not, at the very least, fear it might be true, you wouldn’t bother with Adam either.”

Slowly, he chuckled. “Smart girl. When there is a glimmer of belief, there is cause for concern.” He tugged her hair, just enough to make her wince. “Which is why we shall eradicate the situation.”

Eliza’s throat went dry, her voice coming out in a croak. “Eradicate?”

Mellan nodded, not taking his eyes from hers. “You shall destroy the GIM maker.”

“No.” The denial shot out of her with such force that the sound echoed in the dim hallway.

With a snarl, Mellan grasped her hand and squeezed until her bones ground against themselves. “I know you, Eliza. You’ll seek to bargain with Adam, thinking you’ll be free.”

Her breath froze, her heart plummeting to her belly.

“Oh yes, I know,” he went on in a smooth murmur. “And I will let you free him. For he will lead you to a prize I’ve been coveting.” Mellan wrenched her hand up to hold it before her face. “Let him take you, and when I have my prize, you will use this hand of death, the very one you used to kill countless others, and you will take Aodh’s life. Or I will cut that pretty head from your shoulders and place it on my bedroom mantle.”

Vivid. And yet he was not exaggerating; she’d witnessed firsthand how he decorated his lair in Boston. Heaven help her if Mellan realized she was handfasted to Adam. On this, Adam had agreed that the fae prince should not know of it until they were well and gone.

Mellan could clearly see the fear in her eyes, for he nodded. “Now, if you’re a good girl, and do as I say, I shall allow certain liberties once we are wed.” He tilted his head as if considering, his yellow hair sliding in a sheet over his shoulder. “I think I can agree on letting you continue your outings with Mab, and perhaps a trip or two abroad.”

As if her whole life were decided. With him. The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed. Kill Adam and gain some glimpse of freedom. Refuse and die.

“You once told me that my skill would not work against the supernatural.”

“It will not work against me. You aren’t strong enough.” The corners of Mellan’s eyes crinkled in true humor. “Or did you think I’d forgotten how you tried to end me?”

And what a disaster that had been. Her powers simply did not work on Mellan, and he’d made her suffer for days afterward, all the while laughing at her foolishness.

Wisely, she refrained from answering the question. “And yet you think I’m strong enough to attempt Adam?”

“Oh, I most certainly do. Nor is he a true supernatural, but merely a man cursed.”

Eliza had grave doubts. Her power did not work that way. It was shoddy and gun-shy at best. She had terrible control and, until now, Mellan had sent her after weak spirits, men foolish enough to be caught unaware. Adam was neither of those things.

“I am surprised,” Mellan murmured, “that you did not try to do so when he had you chained. Like chattel.”

Hypocrite. Eliza suppressed a glare. “Whatever magic was in that chain dampened my strength.” Nor, Eliza reflected, had she wanted to try. Even then, she could not bring herself to kill. She’d been forced to do it enough as it was.

“But now he is the one chained and weak.” Mellan flashed his fangs. “Easy pickings, Eliza.”

For a moment, Eliza allowed herself to picture the deed, to envision Adam’s golden eyes going lifeless and dull. Whatever he was to her, he did not deserve that. No one did.

Tears burned hot in her eyes but did not fall. They only fell when death was coming. “If Adam is my soul mate, I will not be able to take his soul without destroying my own.”

“Well then,” Mellan said through a creeping smile, “you had better pray that he is not.”

Eliza lay in the dark. The bedding around her was a cloud of silk. Comfortable, perfect, the very luxury she’d often dreamed of. But she could not draw a clean, free breath. She thought of Adam’s flesh, slashed, his blood flowing. She’d done nothing to help him, but watched his torture, as they all did. This was the life she would live? This is what she’d become? A fanciful creature, intent on nothing more than her own pleasure? And now that Mellan had found her, he’d use her as a plaything and then toss her away. After she killed Adam.

Her first kill had been accidental. She’d been young and terrified, alone in the world after her grandfather had died. Easy prey for predators. And when she’d walked back from the market one day, her once-kind neighbor had cornered her in the alleyway behind their row houses. Even now she remembered the stink of his breath and the grip of his sweaty hands, and it filled her with a queasy revulsion. She’d screamed then. That strange, ugly, odd scream, her hand rising to grasp his chest. And he’d simply died before her eyes.