by Bec McMaster
Verity saw it then: the hooded man stepping out of the chaos, as if he'd somehow appeared from nowhere. His gaze had locked on Bishop, and he withdrew the pistol from his sleeve. A strange thing for a sorcerer to use, but with all the magic and wards being flung about, nobody would ever expect a simple bullet.
It had happened so quickly. She didn't think about it. Just slammed into Bishop, a shockingly breathless pain punching through her.
Lady E drew back, patting at her wet cheeks. She cleared her throat. "Now don't ever do that again."
Verity paled. She could feel how close to death she'd come. "You healed me," she said to Bishop.
"Barely." Lady E snorted, and exchanged a long look with her apprentice. "I daresay you're hungry. Perhaps some of that nice soup you were all foisting on me after my... bout of incapacity."
Without waiting for an answer she bustled toward the door, leaving Verity alone with him.
Nervousness sank through her. She couldn't remember everything, but she very distinctly remembered their fight. "Bout of incapacity?" she asked dryly, using humor to mask her true emotions.
Bishop's hand slid over hers, squeezing. "I'm an idiot," he said hoarsely. "Christ, I nearly lost you, and I said all those horrible things to you. You have no idea what that felt like. To see you like that."
"What happened to your father?" He shook his head, and she didn't press. "Sebastian?"
His face blanched, and he scrubbed his hand across his forehead and through his hair. Lady E wasn't the only one who looked like they'd aged. Adrian's cheeks were gaunt, his eyes feverishly bright in his hollow face. He'd lost ten pounds, seemingly overnight, and his coat hung off him. "Sebastian's alive. Lucien and Ianthe took him into custody."
"You didn't kill him."
Bishop's gaze lifted. "I was a little distracted." He paused. "And you were right. It's been three days, and... I'm not thinking the way I was then. He's a threat, that's true, but... I have been thinking of other ways to manage the situation. Thank you."
"What happened to you?" she whispered. "Are you unwell? You've lost so much weight."
He breathed out a laugh that was no laugh. "Ver, do you remember what happened?"
"Not really."
Taking her hand, he rested it against his chest, just over his heart. His heartbeat thumped beneath her palm, strangely reassuring.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He pressed his fingertips between her breasts, the lawn of her nightgown ruffling. Instantly, she realized that her heartbeat kicked along at the same pace as his. A part of her felt that touch in other places too, but she was far too weak to even think of sex.
"Are you ready?" he whispered.
"For?" She could feel something brushing at her mind, as though he was trying to talk to her psychically.
"I've been shielding you from the bond, but I can show you what happened."
Verity opened up to him, and suddenly memories slammed into her, only she was seeing them from his eyes.
Blood slid between his fingers as he ground his hands over the wound. "I'm losing her!"
"You can do this!" Lady E snapped. "Concentrate."
"You don't understand." There was a mess of blood, a ruptured artery pumping too fast beneath his/her mental touch. "I'm not a Healer! I’m not! Every time I repair something, the bleeding ruptures it again. I don't have time to work my way through this! Not like when I was healing you."
A sense of loss so profound that Verity had never felt the like washed through her. He/she looked up at Lady E, feeling like a helpless child again. "I don't know what to do!"
"There's one thing you could do," Lady E whispered, sliding a hand over his/hers.
"What?" Desperation choked him/her.
"A soul-bond," Lady E replied, tears wetting her cheeks. "Link her life to yours, and you'll keep her alive long enough to heal her. But if you fail, you'll both go under." Regret warred with responsibility on her expression. "I don't want to lose you too."
"I can't let her go without a fight." Determination filled him/her as he/she began to trace a rune on her forehead in blood. "I love her."
Verity blinked as the memories receded and the room spun back into being. She could sense him now, intertwined psychically with her to the degree that she didn't know where she ended and he began.
There were no walls between them. Not anymore. She could sense his regret at the words he'd said to her, sense the dull grief he'd hastily patched over and pushed aside, and the gut-wrenching loss he was pretending he didn't feel. She also knew that he was terrified she'd reject him.
"I had to do it," he said in a raw voice. "It was the only way to save you. Healing you took too much time and I used up a great deal of energy. That's where all the weight has gone. My body began to consume itself." He paused, then slid onto the bed at her side, clasping her hands in his. "Verity, forcing a soul-bond on you without your consent... I would never have done it if there'd been any other choice. It's not finished yet. You have to accept it. If you do then neither of us can ever break it. But if you were unhappy, or decided you wanted... something else... then I could mute the bond. You'd never hear me, never sense me. You could do whatever you wanted with your life."
But he'd sense her. She knew it, just as she realized the thought hadn't been hers.
"Is that what you want?" she asked in a small voice.
"I took your choice away from you." Bishop squeezed her hand. "And I'm shielding you again, but no." Those molten brown eyes met hers, thick with emotion. "I want you to be my wife. I was going to ask you that last night we lay together but I didn't think it was the time, not with Horroway's blood still wet on my hands and so much going on. I wanted.... I wanted to prove I was a better man before I asked. I wanted to be rid of the maladroise."
Relief flooded through her. She tugged on his hand. "Lie down with me."
"Is that a yes?" he asked hoarsely, stretching out beside her.
Verity smiled. This man was everything she'd ever wanted in life. "Of course it's a yes. I'm madly in love with you, Adrian. And if I'd even known there was such a thing as a soul-bond, I would never have objected. We've linked before." She stroked the hair from his face as he lay beside her. "And when we're linked," she admitted, her voice dropping, "it's the only time I don't feel so alone anymore."
She'd never have thought he had so much doubt in him, but she saw it when she said she loved him. It wasn't the first time she'd said the words, but she'd not been privy then to his innermost thoughts. And he was letting some of them through.
It hurt to see how poorly he thought of himself. A man with too much blood on his hands and too much death in his future. All he saw when he looked in the mirror was someone whose only gift was killing. And when he looked at her, he hated that that was all he could offer her.
"You fool," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "That's not the only thing you can offer me."
And she let her heart swell with everything she thought about him, everything she loved. His gentleness, his chivalry, his determination to help her build a new life without asking for anything in return. The way he kissed her. The way he could build practically anything, and craft amazing spells with his power. His protectiveness, and how he would do anything for those he loved—for Drake, for Eleanor, for Agatha and Marie—even if it meant that he bore the weight of that on his soul, and not them.
"With you by my side," she whispered, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I will never be alone. And neither will you."
Tears wet his eyes at the words and the grief erupted. Verity dragged him into her arms, her heart bleeding for all that he'd lost.
"We'll get him back," she whispered, wishing she could take his grief for him. "Drake's still alive, and that means there's a chance to get him back. Then we can deal with the maladroise now that there's a chance to heal you of it, and marriage, and the future. There's always hope, Adrian."
"You are my hope," he rasped, lifting his face and kissing her. "Y
ou are my everything. I love you, Verity, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you."
She smiled and slid her hand underneath his shirt. "Why don't you prove it to me right now?"
Epilogue
Five days later...
* * *
THEY'D THROWN HIM in an old potato storage shed, chained to the drainpipe by some sort of manacle that stopped him from touching his power.
Sebastian slumped in the corner, wrapped in the blanket that Lady Rathbourne had given him when she came to deliver his meals. Perhaps they thought this was punishment, but then they knew nothing of what his life had been like. He almost felt like laughing. Three meals a day, a blanket, a lantern, and peace.... God, they knew nothing of torture, these people.
As if to prove him wrong, the lock clanked and the door slowly opened, revealing a tall man clad all in black. Sebastian winced, forcing his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light. He clambered to his feet, the manacle sliding up the drainpipe as a thrill ran over his skin.
It happened every time he came face-to-face with one of his brothers.
The door shut with a soft click and then Adrian Bishop slowly tugged off his gloves as he looked around. His breath misted in the air. Bishop surveyed everything else in the room, before slowly, slowly, letting his gaze settle on Sebastian.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. They were nothing alike, except there was a coldness in this man that Sebastian recognized within himself.
His assassin brother. Morgana had shown him the file on Bishop, and Sebastian knew there was only one reason this man could be here, especially alone.
He reached desperately for his power, but it was like trying to bucket water with a sieve. It slipped through his fingers as if he couldn't get a grasp on it. Sebastian took a step back as Bishop stepped forward, and Bishop froze, thoughts racing behind his expressive eyes.
"I'm not here to kill you," he said.
"You tried," Sebastian pointed out, straightening to his full height. He'd caught enough of the conversation between Lady Rathbourne and her husband as they cast him in here to know that. Apparently, he owed Verity Hawkins his life.
Bishop slapped his gloves against his thigh thoughtfully. "You're right. I was considering the idea quite strongly. You're dangerous and out of control—"
"You should know," Sebastian shot back. "You were out of control the other night yourself." He'd seen it all play out through hazy eyes, as if smoke clouded his vision. Being a passenger in his own body reminded him of being blissed out on opium the one time he'd tried it. No longer in control, heavy, forced to ride along as his body reacted and did things he had no say in. He'd thought it wouldn't be so bad, to get revenge on all those he hated, but it had been.
"I was temporarily overwhelmed by grief. You cost me my father."
Something ached inside him. Guilt? "Drake made his choice."
"You're right. He chose your life over his."
The words flayed him where fists would not have touched him. Sebastian tugged at the manacle again. Uselessly. Bishop's silence only aggravated the feeling.
"What do you want? Are you here to gloat? To hit me? What, damn you?"
More silence. When he met his brother's eyes a part of him wanted to run away screaming. For it was not condemnation that he saw, but a sudden sense of compassion.
"Why?" Sebastian whispered. "Why did he do it?"
Dark lashes shuttered those expressive eyes. "Perhaps he saw something in you that others did not."
Sebastian sank to the floor, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead. He didn't understand any of this, and he'd spent days trying. There was no possible manipulation his father could have found in this. No game to play, no twist, nothing but loss on Drake's behalf.
He had actually sacrificed everything he owned for a chance for Sebastian to be free.
A lump formed in his throat. Nobody had ever given a damn about him, except for Cleo. He had no defense against this. No way to rid himself of the guilt he felt, or the whiplash of emotions that flayed him.
Looking up, he sought answers from the last person he'd ever have expected to get them from. "What do I do now?"
Bishop knelt, resting his wrists on his knees. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out a simple brass key and tossed it toward him.
Sebastian caught it reflexively.
"They've been arguing about what to do with you," Bishop told him. "It was decided that I get the final vote."
His hand curled around the key. "You're setting me free?"
"No. I decided to hand you the key for the sheer enjoyment of it."
"You don't know me. The second this is off"—Sebastian wriggled his wrist and the manacle clanked—"I could kill you."
"You might try. But if push comes to shove, I know who walks away from a confrontation between the pair of us. You have strength beyond my comprehension, but strength is not enough when it comes to sorcery. I could tie you in knots and deflect everything you throw at me. You have no training. No control. Just a child lashing out with big fists, destroying the world around him. You're dangerous."
"You didn't tie me in knots the other night."
Bishop's gaze narrowed. "The other night I'd been flinging sorcery around for over an hour. Now I'm rested."
Sebastian jammed the key in the lock on the manacle and twisted. The second it sprang free, he could feel the sweet flush of power rushing through him. He stood, rubbing his wrist, and Bishop mirrored him. There was a moment, just a moment....
"So what now?" he asked. "You just let me walk out of here?"
"I have a proposition for you."
Of course. "Thanks, but I've heard that before."
Bishop's jaw tightened. "Like I said, you have no control. I could tie you in knots right now. But Drake asked me to look after you before he sacrificed himself. That's what I intend to do."
"Do I get to call you big brother?" Sebastian started shaking off the muscle aches of the last few days, eyeing the door.
"You can call me master."
The way he said it beckoned another quip, but Sebastian looked at him thoughtfully. What did that mean?
"Someone reminded me that there is more than one way to deal with a threat. I am offering to teach you to control your sorcery."
"What?" Morgana had taunted Sebastian for years over his lack of knowledge. It was the only means she had of keeping him under control, when his power reservoirs overwhelmed hers. This Bishop must be toying with him.
Bishop reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a flask, tossed it toward him. "You want to learn how to wield your sorcery? Then I will teach you. All I ask in return is that you help me and Lucien free Drake."
Sebastian twisted the cap and sniffed suspiciously. "Water?"
Bishop headed for the door. "You were expecting poison?"
"Who knows?" he muttered, starting after him. None of this made any sense.
Light streamed in through the doorway. Bishop held it open for Sebastian, gesturing him through first. A knot of something—hesitation—speared through him. He didn't understand any of this. People didn't just help you out of the goodness of their own hearts. And Bishop didn't like him, that much was clear.
So what was the catch?
"Seriously, I've seen virgin brides with less reluctance than you," Bishop growled. "Speaking of which, there's someone who wants to see you."
Cleo would be waiting, no doubt.
"No," he said with more force than absolutely necessary.
Bishop quirked a brow, and Sebastian looked away. She'd given up so much already for him. He couldn't... simply couldn't see her again. All he would bring into her life would be destruction. She'd already lost her Sight, her major gifts, because of him. Guilt pounded down again. First Cleo, and now Drake. You will ruin all of those around you. His mother whispered poison in his memories. That's all you are, Sebastian. All you will ever be....
He ought to get the hell out of there. Leave this entire mess
behind him, and get away before he brought Cleo more grief. But Bishop's offer to teach him was far too tempting. Control equaled freedom. Nobody would ever enslave him again. It also meant vengeance.
"She's your wife," Bishop said.
"A marriage of convenience to meld the truce between my mother and her father," he replied coldly. Then realized that he lied. She'd become so much more to him in such a short time.
Better off without him. He just had to convince himself of that.
"Perhaps it’s for the best," Bishop said slowly. "You need to learn to stop relying on Expression when you wield your power, and she clearly stirs up your emotions."
"Just...." Sebastian hesitated, feeling that ticking link that stretched away into the distance, where Cleo lay. "Just keep her away from me."
Bishop stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "As you wish. Best come up to the house and get some rest. We start tomorrow. We have a demon to find, and five years' worth of training to push into your head."
And so Sebastian stepped into the light, though he carried the darkness within him.
* * *
BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE DARK ARTS WORLD…
If you enjoyed Hexbound, then get ready for Soulbound! Book three in the Dark Arts series, it features Sebastian and Cleo, and their dramatic showdown with the demon. If you want to know more about its release date, cover reveals, and pre-order links click here.
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Want to get your hands on two freebies? For a limited time, I’m offering Tarnished Knight, a novella in the London Steampunk series, as well as a second surprise to those who sign up for my newsletter.
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Can't wait for more action and romance? Check out the award-winning London Steampunk series. I recommend starting with Kiss Of Steel. Not only is it the first book, but it also features a cocky, bad boy anti-hero who captured my heart from the very first moment he came onscreen. There's humor, heroes-to-die-for, dangerous plots, sexy corsets, kick-bustle heroines, duels, steamy kisses (not-just-kisses), and vampires.
