Soulbound Page 7

  Adam’s eyes went to the collar in Mellan’s hand. Whatever was in store for him would not be pleasant. Adam forced a grin. “Think of the devil and he shall find ye.”

  Chapter Five

  The wait was not long for Eliza. The doors of the ballroom opened again. And the blood left her face. She could feel it draining. Feel her skin growing cold.

  Mellan strolled in, his hand around a chain that led to a collar. Adam. Proud, cheeky Adam, now leashed like a dog. Utterly nude and covered in grime. Adam did not follow but matched Mellan’s pace, his gait steady and strong, and Eliza realized with a start that he’d been healed.

  She glanced at a smug-looking Mellan and realized that the fae bastard had healed Adam for this purpose. To parade him through the crowd of cooing and tittering onlookers. To break Adam once more.

  “Ah,” said Mab. “Our entertainment has arrived.”

  Eliza wanted to slap the woman.

  Chains still encircled Adam’s wrists, and when Mellan stopped him before the dais, two servants came and pulled those chains taut.

  Mellan gave Eliza a mocking bow. “My dear Miss May, I do believe you’ve met our pet.”

  As it wasn’t a question, Eliza didn’t answer. Adam did not meet her gaze but stared straight ahead.

  Mellan frowned, not liking her lack of reaction. “Is this not the demon who had the audacity to enslave you?”

  Murmurs went through the crowd. Eliza felt herself flush. What happened between her and Adam was no one’s business. But she could not say that here. “It is.”

  “You? Blood kin to both myself and Mab?” Mellan looked around the room in outrage. “He dared to chain my future bride.”

  That went over well. Now came the shock that she was supposedly promised to Mellan. Her bloody great-uncle. Eliza ground her teeth together but managed to keep a placid expression.

  Mellan held out his hand, and a servant placed a rather large bullwhip in his grasp.

  Bile rushed up Eliza’s throat. She would be ill. Her lips and fingers went numb. Whipping. Gods. Her own back began to burn. Through a haze of despair, she saw Adam’s long arms drawn wide. He caught her gaze and held it.

  Horror raced through her. She did not want this. Never had she wanted this for him.

  Mellan was speaking, his voice a buzz through the rushing sound in her ears. “Let us show dogs what happens when they disobey.”

  The crack of the whip seemed to lash through her. Adam’s body flinched, his lips turning white. But he did not shout. Golden eyes burned into her. And she did not look away. Watch me. Focus on me, not the pain.

  Eliza did not know if he heard her plea. But his attention stayed on her.

  “He watches you,” Mab murmured in her ear.

  “Perhaps he dreams of revenge,” Eliza whispered lightly. She suffered no illusions about what would happen if Mab thought she and Adam had reached an accord.

  “Perhaps.”

  Again and again the whip fell, till blood splattered and sprayed across Mab’s white marble floor.

  Adam grunted now with every strike. He had to be in agony.

  Eliza sat like stone within her chair, unable to do a thing. Make it stop. End this.

  And then it did. Mellan, sweating now, lowered the whip. Blood flecked his once-pristine white shirt and dotted his pale brow. “I think,” he said, catching Eliza’s gaze, “that I take too much, when really the pleasure ought to go to you, Miss May.”

  He stretched out his hand, offering her the whip. It hung like a dark snake, the ends glistening with Adam’s blood.

  Her heart beat so hard within the cage of her ribs that it was visible upon the swells of her chest. Mellan’s gaze lingered there, his nostrils flaring as if he were taking in the scent of her discomfort and enjoying it. Lust crept into his eyes as he lifted his head. Bastard. Eliza drew in a deliberate and steady breath.

  She forced herself to look at Adam, let her eyes rove over his battered and unclothed body. God, but he was magnificent, the way he refused to cower but stood as straight as the chains would let him, every tight and sinewy muscle bunched and ready for a fight.

  Grimy sweat ran in rivulets down the valleys of those muscles, and along the taut wall of his chest and abdomen.

  Mellan walked in front of Adam, turning a bit and pointing toward him with the whip. “He is unmarked here.”

  Dear God. Despite her resolve, her gaze dipped lower. Adam’s sex hung heavy and thick below a thatch of ink-black hair. Strong thighs bracketed it, but would provide little protection against the whip. Already a few telling pink stripes marred their furred expanse from where the whip had lashed around his legs. Should Eliza take up the whip, she’d be striking him where he was most vulnerable. The cruelty of it gutted her.

  But she could hardly refuse to engage in this little “revenge.” It would call suspicion down upon her, and likely lead to an even greater torture for the demon.

  The silence drew out and pressed down upon her shoulders. And she felt Adam’s gaze upon her, the weight of it greater than Mab’s stare or Mellan’s taunting smile. She raised her eyes, and their gazes clashed. What did he feel at this moment? She could not tell. He gave nothing away. With a calm strength she did not feel, Eliza spoke.

  “Physical pain is child’s play,” she said, not looking away from Adam. “Even humans excel in dolling it out.”

  A rumble rippled through the crowd.

  “Explain, my dear,” said Mab in a soft voice.

  Eliza gave a negligent shrug, all the while aware of Adam’s eyes upon her. “Whipping lacks imagination.”

  Mellan’s golden brow lifted. “Oh? And what would you suggest to liven the festivities up?”

  “The demon endures too well. To a tiresome degree.” Her back tightened as she met Adam’s eyes once more and held his stare. “I suggest humiliation instead.”

  Eyes of deep, angry gold held hers. A snare from which she could not free herself. From a distance, it seemed that Mab’s voice came at her. “Is this not a humiliation?”

  “No,” said Eliza, still locked in Adam’s wrathful glare. “It is giving him what he wants, an outlet for his rage. True humiliation would be him chained at my feet, as I was chained at his for all those dark days.”

  A pulse jumped in Adam’s strong throat. The only indication of any emotion he might have felt.

  As for the crowded room, a murmur of approval broke out.

  “Oh, my dear child,” said Mab, chuckling with delight, “how proud you have made me.”

  Mellan bowed low. “As you wish, my lovely.”

  No, she did not wish. If anything, Eliza wished herself far from this spectacle. She wanted to go home. To Boston. But if she thought about her old home, she’d cry. So she stiffened her spine and glared at Adam. “Come, demon, at my feet where you belong.”

  The long length of his body tensed, but his expression remained unreadable. The servants release him, and Mellan gave his chain a hard tug, forcing Adam forward. And then, as if deciding not to fight, he moved of his own volition.

  It did not matter that he was hobbled, that the chains forced him to shuffle his steps, he walked towards her as if prowling. She swallowed past the lump in her dry throat and lifted her chin in a show of defiance. It did not help. Dark humor lit his eyes, as if he knew precisely how she was affected, and reveled in it.

  He stopped before her chair. Eliza gave him a long, bland look and then met his eyes. “Sit.” She was proud that her voice did not waver.

  The very room seemed to still as he stared at her, his expression blank, his body a tightly coiled wire, and then with utter grace, he knelt at her feet.

  Eliza’s insides recoiled. He was so close, too close, the scent of his blood and sweat surrounding her. His gleaming chest, gently rising and falling with each breath, within touching distance. Part of her wanted to push him away, and yet, perversely, she found herself fighting a smile. Well played, sir. But Mab was watching, and so Eliza grabbed a length of golden
chain that ran around his neck and yanked him down at her side. “I said ‘sit.’ ”

  She suspected he toppled only because he allowed it. But he made as if to move away from her, and she gave the chain a rough jerk. “Stay.”

  Though his jaw bunched, he did not move again, but heeded as a dog might. Revulsion churned within her belly. It did not matter what had passed between them, degrading another soul sickened her. Did he know this? Did he understand what she was trying to do? And did it matter?

  Adam remained on his arse, still utterly unconcerned by his nakedness. Other men might have appeared vulnerable. But he wore his nudity like armor, letting the world see the strength and fluidity of his body.

  “Well now,” exclaimed Mab happily, “shall we have some dancing?” At that, the musicians started up, and the crowd began to waltz.

  Eliza looked on, pretending to be content, pretending to preen. But the heat of Adam’s body next to her thigh unnerved her further. She ignored it. And him. Yet she wished him to hear her unspoken promise. I will get us out.

  Every inch of him screamed for mercy. Each breath Adam took threatened to have him fainting. His back had been flayed to nearly entirely raw meat. And yet he sat at Eliza’s feet with a sense of odd pride.

  It grew when she nudge him roughly with her boot. “Do not crowd me, demon.” So cold her voice, her gaze barely straying to him, as though she found the mere sight of him distasteful.

  He almost grinned. Ye gods, but she was clever. He’d known the second she glanced at the whip that she was loath to touch it. Even before that. She’d gone white as French linen the moment she understood what Mellan meant to do. Lucky for her, Mab and Mellan had been too engrossed in wanting to see him whipped to notice her expression. Had they done so, they would have realized, as he did, that she could no more torture another than she could stop her heart from beating. He’d wondered what she’d do; she had to have known she was caught between the whip and retreat.

  But her choice had stunned him. It was so simple, so brilliant, her move. She’d understood Mab’s need to humiliate him. And played the fae bitch perfectly. For that alone, Adam would have knelt at her feet. Eliza had no clue that he’d shown her his deepest honor in doing so. She thought he was mocking her. Nor could he afford to enlighten her. So he played his part, making her force him down, to curl up at her feet like a dog.

  As for Mab, she’d never understood that humiliation only worked if a man was unwilling. Having Eliza see him beaten by the prat Mellan? That was humiliating. But having Eliza whip him while knowing it was killing a bit of her soul with every strike? That would have been true torture.

  On the other side of Eliza, Mellan sat. Adam did not need to see his face to know that his little torture session had not ended but was merely delayed by Eliza’s cunning. Mab might have been satisfied by his humiliation, but Mellan wasn’t. And he’d make Adam pay for it.

  Chapter Six

  “Demon? Adam?” The female voice was a soft hiss. Smooth hands touched his shoulder, awaking a world of hurt.

  Adam tried to shrug it off. Only to receive a pinch on his earlobe in return. With a growl, he turned, capturing a slim wrist and hauling a body close. The female landed upon his battered body with a huff. Bad idea. That hurt. A lot.

  Adam forced his eyes open. Still clinging to the wiggling mass of warm woman, he thrust her away as he tried to sit. “Quiet,” he muttered. “My head aches something fierce.”

  Eliza scrambled back, her pretty face twisted up with irritation. “I was simply trying to wake you.”

  “I’d rather sleep.” Now that he was awake, he was in pain. “Well then, what is it?”

  Her gaze went to his shoulders, and he knew she thought of his back. And though it was dark, far darker than usual – she’d brought only a small torch by her side – he noted the pallor of her skin and the way she flinched.

  “I am sorry,” she blurted out. “For tonight.”

  “As am I.” Adam gave her a weak smile. “I’ll just as soon leave all whippings behind.”

  “Yes, well, I meant… for the other…” She grimaced.

  “You did well, lass. Did right.”

  Her mouth opened in a little circle of surprise, but she quickly shut it. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

  “As you said.” Adam wanted to laugh at her huff of impatience. “Though I’m thinking we’ll be better guarded from now on.” He glanced at the door. “How is that you’ve come here again? Eliza, you must take better care —”

  “I made myself vomit,” she cut in with another grimace. “Took syrup of ipecac.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “I’m not certain you know, but fae have a decided revulsion for sickness.”

  “I’ve yet to meet anyone who is fond of it, dove.”

  She nearly grinned at that one, her cheeks plumping. “Well, upon hearing mine, they quarantined me in the guest wing. As for guarding the door, it is two in the morning now.” Eliza leaned in a bit. “Did you know that fae become lethargic at night? Those guards can barely keep their heads up. Slip a bit of valerian into their nightly tea…”

  “Clever. So we leave now?”

  “No.” Eliza came closer, bringing with her the scent of woman. “We need to do this carefully. We need a plan.”

  Of course. Adam knew better. He’d never gone into battle without a plan of attack.

  “First off,” Eliza said, “how do we get you out of those chains? I cannot find a key. Second, we’ll need some method of transport. You’re weak as a babe now.”

  Humiliation curdled in his stomach. He pushed it away. There was a way to move forward. The best way. But it relied on her. Would she help him once again? What he would suggest was far worse than a mere promise to give him a chance. Likely she’d see it as a trap. And it was, of sorts.

  Her gaze was a hot hand sliding over his skin, and sweat broke out at the base of his neck. He clenched his hands, conscious of the chains pooled upon his lap and the way they rattled with the slightest move. Those bloody chains, they drained him of his strength even as his body fought to heal itself.

  Taking another breath, Adam forced himself to face her, to appear as though her answer did not mean everything.

  “Yes, as to that. We have a predicament, dove. Two actually. Mab has a key, likely held in her rooms, but that will only unchain me from the wall. These” – he refused to glance at his wrists – “will be harder to be rid of.”

  “So how —”

  “Which,” he cut in, “leads us to the second issue. I saw the way Mellan looked at you tonight. It is clear that he has a greater interest in you than expected. He won’t stop until he makes you his.”

  She flushed at that, her chin dipping. “You don’t know that —”

  “I do.” Adam had heard the desperation in Mellan’s voice. It matched the one in his own soul. “And I believe you do as well.”

  He almost smiled at the way her sweet mouth pursed. She wanted to argue, but couldn’t. Eliza was stubborn as the year was long but she had a streak of honesty that rivaled any knight’s. Proven when she squared her shoulders. “Fine, he does appear to be… insistent.”

  To put it mildly. Adam assumed a restful pose, when he was anything but. His heart was pounding now. “It is clear he wants something from you.” Adam smiled when her neck turned pink. “Aside from your feminine charms.”

  “I can’t imagine what it would be,” she said, her lithe frame tight.

  He shifted a bit, and the chains rattled. “The fact remains, you are vulnerable. You accepted his suit, forced though it was, which means he has a claim on you.”

  Eliza puffed up, the plump swell of her bosom lifting beneath her tatty shirtwaist. “As much as he’d like to believe otherwise, he has no claim on me. A lady may reject a suit at any time.”

  “We are not discussing human society. We’re speaking of fae law.” Adam pinned her with a look because he could sense she wanted to avoid the truth. “He can force you into a fae marriage, and t
here wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you suggest then?”

  Oh, he didn’t want to smile, though sheer nerves made his lips twitch. Nor did he want to hear yet another rejection from her. But there was no going back. “The only way to get out of his reach is to make yourself unwed no longer. Take a husband.” He stared her down, noting the growing horror upon her face. “Take me.”

  For a thick, silent moment, Eliza fought to find her voice. When she did, it burst forth as a near laugh. “Oh, well played, sir. You had me walking down that trail of deceit once again.”

  Adam’s scowl was a fearsome thing. The harsh lines of his handsome face made it so. Golden eyes narrowed to mere slits as he growled, “’Tis no jest, Miss May, nor a line of deceit.”

  “Oh? Take you for a husband?” Her pulse thudded at the base of her throat. “And to think I was beginning to believe you were truly trying to help me. When all you were doing is finding another way to bind me to you.”

  A snarl left his lips as he sat upright. That he was chained against the wall in no way diminished him. Likely he’d appear as regal as a king in any situation. “Enough,” he said. “Gods, but you accuse me of conceit.” He leaned forward a bit, his big fists clenching. “I am helping you. The curse does not abate unless you truly believe me to be an essential part of your soul. Marriage is not that bond. It is merely a contract between two persons.”

  “For someone who professes to believe in soul mates and destiny, you’ve a rather dim view of marriage.”

  Adam sighed expansively. “This modern world makes confusion where there need not be any. Do you honestly believe that speaking a few vows to one another assures everlasting love?”

  The scorn in his voice scraped along her nerves.

  “No, but —”

  “Love,” he spoke over her, “is feeling, how you treat a person, not spouting pretty words.”