Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

Without thinking, she touched his forearm, where the muscles clenched like iron beneath the homespun linen. “What troubles you?”

Adam’s gaze slid away. “They recognized me. When we let the room.”

“Of course they did.”

The GIM had watched him with awe. The innkeeper had insisted that Adam take not a mere room, but led them out to a small but charming cottage a bit of a ways from the inn. “For privacy and true comfort, my lord.” Eliza suspected that it was the innkeeper’s home and thought Adam realized this as well. But the innkeeper would not take no for an answer.

Eliza had noticed Adam’s agitation then, but had thought it had been directed at her.

“You are their sire,” she went on. “How could they not know you?”

He made a dry sound. “They expected me to have power. To help them.” His wide chest lifted on a sigh. “I don’t know who I am anymore. For thirty years of my human life, I served God with blood and blade, convinced that I was not a murderer but a champion of Christian right and virtue.” He blinked, the thick tips of his black lashes gleaming in the flickering light. “A mere blink of time when considering my life as Adam.” A soft snort left him. “I thought, here is a chance to make up for all the lives that I’d cut down. To make life anew. It was such an elegant solution, saving souls while searching for yours.” He glanced at her, then away. “But part of me feared, would I be punished for my actions?

“And though I’ve seen Hell, angels, even played cards with the being you call Lucifer, I’ve never, not once in all those endless centuries, seen God.”

He turned and pinned her with his deep-set eyes. Weariness lined his handsome face, and something close to sadness. “No one has. Not even the angels.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “What is one to make of that? Here I am, a man who has all but played God himself, deciding who may live forever and who will stay dead, acts of utter blasphemy, and where is God? Why hasn’t He come to smite me for my sins?”

Eliza felt wooden inside, incapable of movement, unable to feel anything other than a strange heaviness. “I don’t know.”

He bent his head and the lock of dark hair tangled in the long length of his lashes as he blinked. But he didn’t attempt to brush it away. Instead he slowly shook his head. “I am nothing now. Not Templar, not Adam. I’ve no purpose.”

Eliza wasn’t aware of moving, not until her fingertips brushed over the back of his hand. He did not resist but let his fist uncurl as she twined her fingers with his. “My grandda used to say a person hasn’t truly lived life to the fullest if they haven’t had cause to reinvent themselves once or twice.” Gently she squeezed his warm hand. “I figure, you’ve just arrived at another crossroads, and it’s time to make yourself over once more.”

Adam was silent and still for a long moment. When he finally faced her, she wondered if she’d ever become accustomed to the impact of him. He saw too much, made her feel too much. Always. Her stomach clenched, a hot, pleasurable, yet achy sensation that had her breath catching.

But for once, he didn’t appear to notice. Instead he studied her, frowning a bit, as though concerned. “And what of you, dove? What do you want of life?”

That was easy. “What I’ve always wanted. To live it. As a man might. Unfettered and free to roam as I see fit. I think I should like to see the Great Pyramid of Giza, if we’re being particular.”

His lazy, tilted smile returned as his free hand raised to cup her cheek. His skin was rough and warm, and she felt it down to her toes. “And who’s to stop you now? Miss Eliza May of Boston, the most stubborn, willful creature I’ve ever met.”

Her mouth quavered, torn as she was between a laugh and a scowl. “You say that like it’s a compliment.”

His voice lowered as he drew her closer. “Because it is.”

Ignoring the quiver inside of her belly, Eliza squeezed his hand. “Come. Let us go to dinner.” She rose, giving him a little tug to prompt him to stand. “Some hot food and a bit of wine, and you’ll be square as a quilt in no time at all.”

A smile played about his full lips. “I do not believe I’m familiar with that saying.”

“That’s because I just made it up.” Eliza walked to the door, Adam still holding her hand as though she were his lifeline.

Once in the dining hall, however, he did not brighten. They ate their meal in relative silence, the good-natured laughter and conversation of their fellow patrons surrounding their corner table but never quite touching it.

Adam’s expression remained pensive, his attention on his meal. Thus it was a surprise when he at last spoke.

“I used to watch that sort of thing, you know.” With a jerk of his chin, he gestured over to where a young couple nuzzled each other, uncaring of any attention they might receive.

“You watched people…” She trailed off, horrified. But he merely shrugged and took another bite of his beef.

“I was bored. And it wasn’t as though it affected me. Not in any lustful sort of way.” He sipped his wine.

“It’s perverse,” she insisted.

Adam lowered his silver and sat back in his chair with a negligent air. “It was a glimpse of life that I’d been denied. And yes, it was wrong.” He looked off, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Such a harsh profile, yet his lush mouth and pretty eyes softened him. “Eventually, I stopped. What point was there to watch what I could not have?” A frown marred his countenance and then was gone with his next breath. He turned back to her. “I’ve seen intercourse performed in so many ways and scenarios, I’ve lost count. Love, the birth and death of it, played out over and over again.”