Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

Stifling a groan, Eliza pressed the cool tips of her fingers against her eyelids until red spots danced before her in the dark. She wanted Adam here. She wanted him to hold her, despite the anger she felt in learning yet another of his machinations against her. But that was in the past, and she’d promised him a new start.

Aodh MacNiall, now Adam of the GIM, had stolen her peace and shattered her illusions. He rested in the room beyond, a mere closed door away. No longer could she deny it; she felt better when she was with him, settled and right, in the same manner she’d experienced when using her power. Away from him, an uncomfortable tugging started within her breast and lower belly, as though he chained her still and was constantly pulling her back to him.

With a curse, she whipped back the covers and left her bed. Cold air chilled her overheated skin, and her feet slapped against the icy floor. Do not think. Act. Simply act.

So great was her intent to get to him that, when she opened the door, she nearly barreled right into him. She stopped short, her nightgown swaying about her legs. He’d halted as well, his hand still up as though preparing to knock. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, and then he slowly lowered his hand.

“What is it?” Eliza whispered, searching his face. Her fingers twitched with the urge to stroke the corded muscles that ran along the thick column of his neck, now exposed by the loose edge of his collar.

“You know,” he said in a soft, yet rough voice, “I cannot recall the excuse I’d made up to come to you.”

Everything inside her stuttered to a halt, her breath, the blood in her veins. She stared at him, her mouth surely hanging open, and his lush lips quirked with self-deprecation. “Aye, I know you’re cross with me just now, and I’ve no true reason to bother you, Eliza May, save the fact that I cannot stay away.” His gaze grew slumberous, lowering to her lips, even as the strong lines of his shoulders grew tense. “I need to be near you, if only to know that you are well, or I become a man unmoored.”

Slowly, as if he feared she’d bolt, he raised his hand. Eliza’s lids fluttered, her body swaying towards him when the warm, callused tips of his fingers traced the curve of her cheek. His deep voice came to her as from a distance. “Whether you believe in soul mates or not, I think of you as my other half. The better half. And I am not whole unless I am with you.”

Shaking deep within herself, Eliza drew in a sharp breath. He saw the movement, and his hand dropped. With a wince, Adam straightened. “Ah, well. It’s clear you are well enough. I’ll no’ bother you a moment more.” He moved to step back.

Unacceptable. Eliza caught his fingers with hers. He was so warm, solid, even with the tenuous grasp she had on him. And he stilled, his expression one of granite as he watched her. Oh, but those golden eyes of his shown with fragile hope and dark curiosity.

She couldn’t speak, her mouth dry as crust as she held on to him and backed into her room. He waited until their arms were outstretched before taking that first step with her. His eyes never left her as he quietly followed her. And Eliza’s heart beat a strong, nearly painful tattoo against her breast. Its fearful rhythm quickened as she drew to a halt by the bed tucked against the wall.

Adam’s slow, deep breaths mingled with her lighter ones as they gazed at each other. He did not move, but remained alert and watchful. Waiting, it seemed, for her to tell him what she wanted.

“Stay with me.” Her plea came out so thick and low that it was a wonder he heard it.

But he did. He gave a sharp nod.

She couldn’t look at him as she crawled back into the bed, now cool and far too small. She had lain with others, men that, despite working for Mellan, had been kind to her. Those acts had been impersonal, born from a basic need to feel something other than numb fear. But Eliza had never felt true desire, the desperate need to simply touch a man or the utter craving to feel a man moving inside of her. Until this man.

In truth, she could barely believe that she wanted Adam. She’d resented him for so long, been afraid of him, of her intense reaction to the very person who’d disregarded her feelings. But it was different now. Everything was different.

The covers rustled as he slipped in, the mattress dipping. But he did not lie down. Instead, he peered at her, his gaze roving over her body before meeting her eyes. This man, the way he looked at her, looked into her, it undid her every time.

Eliza leaned back against the pillows, her nipples tight beneath her flannel gown. And when he reached out, her breath caught. The tip of his finger brushed against the crystal clock lying in the hollow of her throat, and an almost melancholic expression graced his face.

“Will you tell me now,” Eliza asked, “what this is?”

“The key to all the GIM.” He stroked the face of the clock. “It rests inside here.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “And you let me wear it?” She should not. It was too great a responsibility.

But Adam merely looked at her with serious eyes. “Who else ought to but the other half of my soul?”

For a moment, the world blurred, and then Eliza blinked. “Adam.” It was a breath of sound.

Their gazes clashed, and she saw everything in his eyes, his vulnerability, his belief in her, and his need. He needed her, and Eliza could not deny him. She needed him too.

“Could I?” Adam hesitated, a flush creeping up his cheeks. His gentleness, mixed with the overwhelming maleness of his graceful body, made her heart squeeze.