Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

A muffled creak, as though someone sitting in a chair had stirred, had him tensing. Only when his eyes opened did he realize that they’d been closed. That he was in a bed.

The room was dark, heavy curtains drawn and the weak glow of a bedside lamp casting flickering shadows along rough stone walls. And then he saw her, tense and too pale, and sitting in a chair next to him.

“Eliza.” He hadn’t meant to say her name, but it burst out of him in a rather pathetic croak. Pathetic too was the relief he felt upon seeing her.

She’d been reading a book, but upon hearing him, set it aside and picked up a glass of water. She moved to the bed, bringing her clean, sweet scent closer, and offered him a drink. The wall of his abdomen ached as he shoved up on one elbow and drank deep. Cool, clear water washed down his parched throat. His hand shook only a little as he passed the glass back to her.

“I have some broth for you as well,” she said, gesturing to a table at the other end of the room where a tray sat.

He eyed the soup bowl with displeasure. Where was a good slab of beef when a man wanted it? “I’ve not had my teeth pulled. Am I to be offered pap next?”

“Pap?” She blinked in confusion.

Right, she was a Yank. “Food for infants…” Adam waved a negligent hand. “Never you mind.” He surveyed the room again. “Where are we?”

“With the GIM, of course.” Her brow wrinkled as she peered down at him. “Or did you think that they’d turn us away?”

They’d have every right to. But he didn’t voice the obvious, only moved to sit back. She stopped him with a fleeting touch on his shoulder before leaning over him to adjust the pillows. Adam closed his eyes and simply breathed her in, letting her warmth seep into his bones. Should he look at her now, at the smooth arch of her neck or the soft rise of her breasts, he’d pull her into the bed with him. And then what? He was too weak to do what he wanted with her, and she’d surely clout him.

Thankfully, Eliza was quick and soon stepped away from him, giving him room to breathe without fear of drowning in her heady scent. He leaned back, never taking his eyes from her.

“Believe it or not,” she said, a smile forming in her dark eyes, “you’re much improved.”

He wanted to snort, but his ribs hurt too much. “So then, not so much resembling a man trampled beneath a carriage’s wheels? Now, that is an improvement.”

The smile reached her lips. “Battered but not wrecked.”

Heat rushed through his blood. She of the Eternal Frowns was smiling at him. But then he remembered how she’d last seen him, as a weak, crumpled coward, held in her arms. Running a tired hand over his face, Adam surveyed the room before glancing down at himself. He wore a worn yet soft work shirt, and it lay half undone, exposing a swath of his chest. The infernal chains remained. That had to be dealt with. Among other things.

Eliza tidied his covers before refilling his glass of water and generally fussing about, doing everything other than look him in the eye. She smoothed her woolen skirts as she sat once again. Only then did her brown eyes meet his. “Do you feel better?”

He gave a slight nod. “Have I been out for a fair bit?”

“All night. It’s going on noon now. I drew the drapes so that you might sleep.” She picked a spot just above his shoulder to study with undue attentiveness.

“What,” Adam said in a firm tone, “are you hiding from me, Miss May?”

Her pretty, pink mouth opened like a blooming rose. Then abruptly shut. “Tell me, what is it that Mellan wants?”

“You only ask after Mellan’s desires,” he said carefully. “Not Mab’s?”

Her gaze slid over him and then flicked away. “I know what Mab wants from you.”

The tartness in her tone had him grinning. “She wants many things. One of them being power over death. All fae want that because death frightens them.”

“Well, it frightens me too, if I’m honest,” Eliza retorted.

“You have fae blood, love.”

She did not like that; her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. Adam thought it prudent to move on. “Mab was under the impression that I know the location of a weapon called the Golden Horn an Bás. It’s thought to call the dead and command them. I’ve no idea where this weapon is, or if it’s even real,” he added when Eliza leaned forward in anticipation.

With a little huff, she settled back. “Well, that won’t be very helpful.”

“I do, however,” Adam said with a small smile of satisfaction, “know the location of an object Mellan desires.”

At this, Eliza went oddly stiff, her mouth thinning. Adam watched her as he spoke. “My sword. The one I used when I was a knight those many centuries ago. He fears this sword because it is one of the only objects that can actually kill a fae.”

The chair beneath Eliza scraped over the floorboards as she lurched to her feet and paced over to the curtained window. She did not peek out of it but leaned her head against the thick woolen hangings.

“Eliza,” Adam said softly – when really he wanted to shout – “tell me what it is you hide from me.”

Her shoulders tensed on an indrawn breath. “He wants me to kill you.”

Little surprised Adam anymore, but the confession kicked him in the gut just the same. “And how are you to accomplish that?”

Slowly, she turned and pinned him with her dark brown eyes. “He said for me to free you, and that you would lead him to a prize he’s been coveting. And then…” She trailed off, biting down on her plump bottom lip.