Bound to His Redemption

by Lisa Kumar

  She hid her grin against his shoulder. “Only you could make such a backhanded compliment sound so sweetly arrogant.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  Silence stretched between them as the rest of the evening came back to her. She lifted her head and looked at him. “Why did you say you’re my boyfriend?”

  The question slipped off her tongue before she could stop it. Her lungs ceased all function while she waited for his answer.

  He tilted his head. “Isn’t that what I am, according to your society’s standards?”

  Her heart thudded in her throat. “I think so.”

  She was just astonished he saw it that way and wanted to claim her so publicly. Her pulse zoomed into turbo drive at the thought of them being an official couple and — Whoa! Boyfriends often came and went. He’d be no different. She couldn’t let herself forget that. This was Eamon, after all, and once she’d served her usefulness, he’d be gone.

  A serious expression settled over his face. “You’re very important to me. That’s not something I say lightly.”

  All her previous concerns slipped away. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly taking flight. Everything — the lights, sounds, and the people — faded away until only he existed. He cared for her! Somehow, she believed him. “You are to me, too.”

  Though the words seemed to wind around her vocal cords, she managed to get them out. Still, they felt so inadequate, but she couldn’t blurt out the complete truth like an idiot. Even if he really did care for her, that didn’t mean his feelings encompassed love. He seemed the sort who could or wouldn’t love. Right now, she could deal with that, but how about later if he did stick around?

  “Am I now?” he asked, staring at her in a way that seemed to pierce her heart and soul. His hand came up to stroke her cheek. A fiery trail left from his fingertips shivered over her skin. In the background, another holiday tune blared. She and Eamon didn’t stop moving, though it took conscience effort on her part.

  She swallowed, hating the sensation of feeling bare before him. “Yes.”

  The conversation was getting too heavy, and her thoughts were going to a place she didn’t like. Maybe some lighthearted teasing would relieve the worst of the tension. “You grew on me like a fungus.”

  He chuckled, his sober mien disappearing like cookies from the dessert bar. His hand settled about her waist while the other one stayed on her lower back. “You flatter me, but it’s good to know my charm didn’t fail me.”

  She gave him an answering smile, her mind already somewhat preoccupied with coming up with her next quip. “I admit you have charm, though you choose not to use it on many occasions.”

  “Charm, just like any weapon, is a weapon you have to realize when and how to utilize it for the most effectiveness. Otherwise, it can become a dull thing that no longer serves a purpose, especially if overused.”

  Her chest tightened, and she glanced over his shoulder, not staring at anything in particular. That he spoke so cynically upset her. What she knew of his past hinted of a life of pain and isolation, though he’d probably chafe at such a description. He still didn’t like to be unexpectedly touched. During those times, leashed violence glittered in his eyes. These occasions never failed to take her aback and made her aware how carefully she needed to tread with him.

  She was positive he’d been abused — most definitely physically and probably sexually — as a child or teen. What she didn’t know was who had done this horrible thing to him or if the person was still alive. Given Eamon’s personality and his past, probably not. A shiver iced her spine as she recalled how angry he’d been when he found out about the drawings. Quite frankly, she was surprised he hadn’t demanded to see them or have them destroyed. Maybe he wanted to leave the past behind?

  “Cold?” Eamon asked softly, his thumbs tracing small circles on the side of her waist and back.

  She shook her head slowly, coming back to the moment. “No.” If anything, she was a bit warm in her silver woolen dress and sweater.

  He made no reply and instead rested his chin on her head. A comfortable silence finally settled between them as the DJ played a few more songs. Caralyn never wanted the night to end, never wanted to leave his arms. Since she didn’t know what the future would bring, she poured all her willpower into treasuring this moment.

  When she glanced around, she caught a look of Andrian and his self-proclaimed date for the night. Guilt hit hard because she’d been so focused on herself that she’d forgotten about the other elf. He looked bored and miserable. Miranda appeared to be talking nonstop, and whatever fascination he might’ve felt apparently had long disappeared. The poor elf had rested his chin on one hand, which was open and covering his left cheek. He looked like he might be stifling a yawn.

  When she pointed that out to her dance partner, a wicked grin came to Eamon’s lips. “I noticed.”

  Caralyn slapped him on the back playfully. “It was rotten to leave him like that.”

  He shrugged. “The chance was too tempting to let pass.”

  “I’m sure it was,” she said drily, observing Andrian for a few seconds. She didn’t always know what to make of the other elf. He was kind enough to her because she’d agreed to help him in his acclimation to Earth, but she also knew he didn’t approve of her relationship with Eamon. Sometimes, he unnerved her because of the look in his eyes. They could reflect such emptiness and madness that she often felt like she was approaching a wary, wild animal. Then again, Eamon often struck her the same way, especially when he was jumpy about being touched.

  Eamon sighed. “I need to use the restroom.” Giving her a quick kiss, he released her.

  The loss of his body heat made her blink, and she stood, lost, in the middle of the dance floor until he pulled her off to the side.

  “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

  She frowned. He didn’t want her going back to the table? Shrugging off the worry, she said, “Okay, I’ll be here. If you don’t take forever.”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “Being bossy? I like it.”

  She shooed him away. “Go. Now.”

  As she watched Eamon stride out of the room, a presence at her shoulder made her turn. Andrian stared at her, an unnerving expression in his eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes, did you want something?”

  Chapter 29

  Something about Andrian’s sudden appearance caused an unease to worm its way through Caralyn’s body. She dismissed the feeling, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but Andrian’s penetrating stare undid her efforts.

  Abruptly, he asked, “You have a cousin named Maggie? And her friend is called Cal?”

  Confusion slid through her like a knife through butter. “Yeah, why?”

  “My erstwhile ‘date’ for the night regaled some interesting tales about their disappearance.”

  A very bad feeling crept over her. Where was Andrian going with this? Whatever he meant to say, it couldn’t be good. Caralyn laughed uneasily. “She’s always been a talker.” More like a prattler, and Caralyn never cursed her more than she did now.

  “I found her most informative. It’s quite the coincidence that I know of a Maggie and a Cal in Eria. Isn’t it funny that Eamon knew of them and never mentioned them to you?”

  E ... Eamon had known? Her heart thudded against her ribcage before lurching to her toes. She had mentioned Maggie and Cal to him last night. Why had he never said a word of their whereabouts? Then she remembered how odd he’d acted during that part of the conversation — almost as if he were nervous. Was that why?

  Andrian went on as if he hadn’t just devastated her world. “Oh, I think I know why he never told you. After all, he tried to kill both of them.”

  A moment passed before she could comprehend his words. Then they struck like bullets that tore into her. “No, you ... it can’t ...”

  His brows lifted. “I can’t be right? I’ve met your cousin and have seen Cal from a distance. I was there when Eamon had M
aggie brought in after she’d been taken from Talion.”

  Caralyn’s mind sputtered uselessly in an effort to process the horrible meaning of what Andrian said. Then she latched onto something. “Talion?” Wasn’t he the Erian king? “Why would she be taken from him?”

  “Because she’s his bondmate.”

  Those stark words dug steely claws into her already punctured heart. She shook her head, trying to dislodge this nightmare. This all had to be a freaky daydream. Eamon, the elf she unwillingly loved, hadn’t tried to kill Maggie and Cal. And her cousin, her irreverent cousin, couldn’t be bonded to a king.

  “I assure you it’s all true.”

  A spark of anger ignited in her beleaguered spirit. Andrian wasn’t telling her all this out of the goodness of his own heart. He made it no secret he hated Eamon. This was his revenge, except he wasn’t just hurting Eamon but her also. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  His face slackened in surprise. “What?”

  She gestured between them. “This. Trying to make me hate Eamon.”

  The astonishment faded, and anger tightened all his features. “You still care for that creature? You know what he is, and you still condone what he’s done?”

  “No, not what he’s done because he’s committed great evil, and I realize I don’t know the scope of it.”

  “What I just told you proves that you know little of what he’s done.”

  She couldn’t deny that, and hurt and betrayal over Eamon’s actions still swam in her stomach like a debilitating poison. That, along with Andrian’s hypocrisy, only fanned her ire to greater heights. “Trust me, I don’t need any reminders of that,” she said between gritted teeth.

  Andrian’s blond brows lowered, casting a thunderous look to his eyes. “I think you do. You’re sharing a bed with that snake and seem oblivious to just who that bastard is.”

  Fury edged deeper under her skin and propelled her to loosen her tongue. “Oh, and you’re that much better? Aren’t you the king’s brother, and yet you led the darkindred against him? I’m positive there’s plenty of blood on your hands.”

  He recoiled as if struck. So he liked to dish the hate out but couldn’t take the same bitter medicine being given in return? How typical. If she were being at all charitable, she’d feel a bit sorry for him. But he was being willfully blind to some plain truths.

  Andrian lifted a shaking hand to push back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Too right you are, but I don’t pretend to be anyone I’m not.”

  “Neither does Eamon,” she said, breathing hard and failing to keep her voice even.

  Andrian seemed to physically deflate, his intimidating presence seeping away into weariness. A smidgeon of regret hit her, but she couldn’t fully regret her words. He had to realize that she wasn’t defending Eamon for the heck of it but rather stating what she saw as fact.

  Except for Eamon not telling her about Maggie and Cal — and she couldn’t even begin to wrap her head around how she’d handle that news and its repercussions, because, boy, would there ever be some — he’d always been quite upfront about who and what he was. He’d probably taken such delight in its telling because of the shock value. Even now, the fear she’d felt when he’d admitted to murder and mayhem still lingered in the back of her mind like a phantom. She knew all too well what he was capable of, even if she didn’t know the full extent of what he’d done.

  After a few seconds elapsed, Andrian exhaled a ragged sigh. “I’d disagree with you, but I’ve also kept plenty of damaging secrets. Though I hate the bastard, he now freely admits to most of his evil deeds, so I have to concede that.”

  Caralyn bit her lip, not sure what to say. Maybe she’d come down a little too hard. Andrian clearly had issues with his own past, and she didn’t want to compound his already considerable problems. She just wanted to get him to consider the possibility that everything about Eamon wasn’t so cut and dried. “Look, I’m sorry if —”

  Andrian threw up a staying hand. “I need to be alone for awhile.”

  “But —”

  Without a backward glance, he spun around and all but jogged toward the exit of the banquet room.

  She stood there, indecision gripping her. Great, just great. Did she go after him or just let him disappear? She wanted to leave soon, and though she knew he had a phone and money for a taxi, she hesitated to abandon him. But then it wasn’t really abandoning him if he voluntarily took off.

  “Miss me?” whispered a voice in her ear.

  Caralyn jumped a good few inches and whirled around to see Eamon. He was smiling and looked so carefree that for a brief moment all her anger slipped away as if it never existed. Then she blinked, and all of Andrian’s words came back to her. Ire and betrayal swirled under her skin. Taking a steadying breath, she subdued her feelings. She didn’t want to make a scene here.

  “Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips. It probably looked as plastic as it felt. “Are you ready to leave? I’m tired, and I think Andrian is catching his own ride back to the apartment.”

  Eamon stilled and cocked his head to the side. A frown turned down the corners of his lips. “Is everything well?”

  What a loaded question and he didn’t even realize it. “That depends on your definition.”

  He took hold of her arm, his brows snapping together. “What do you mean?”

  Every iota of her self-control buzzed to life so she didn’t rip into him. “Now isn’t the time to get into it.”

  He drew back, his manner turning cold. “I see.”

  Did he? Yeah, probably. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if that sneaky brain of his had it all figured out. That idea only upset her more.

  “I’m going to get my purse and coat.” She marched back to the table before slinging on her coat and scooping up her small handbag. Eamon followed and grabbed his coat, too. She marched toward the exit. He could either come with her or find his own way home. Home. Could her place ever be his home after what she’d found out?

  He silently trailed her out the front door and to her car. She hardly felt the cold, because of all the anger running through her veins.

  Only once they were in the vehicle did he talk. “Caralyn, I don’t know what —”

  She threw up a hand, resisting the urge to look at him. “Not now while I’m driving.” She didn’t trust herself to have this conversation and still be able to pay attention to the road. Even now, her hands shook and her emotions were all over the place.

  “If you insist,” he said, his tone revealing nothing.

  He better not be mad at her. However, nothing would surprise her.

  Thankfully, she got them back to her apartment without any mishap. They both took the stairs. She didn’t want to be in a confined space where she’d just be standing and trying to ignore him. Action helped the adrenaline spiking through her blood find a suitable outlet until she could turn it on him.

  Archie welcomed them at the door. Though some part of her wanted to get their argument — because she was sure that was what it’d be — out of the way, another part needed to escape his overwhelming presence for a while. After retrieving Archie’s leash, she took him out for his potty break.

  She wished she could say the cold air gave her clarity. All it did, besides making her cold, was build her dread of the coming conversation. She’d thought she loved him. Now she ... she what? Turned off all positive feelings that concerned him? That didn’t sound right. She had no clue what she would decide — or should. Could she be with someone who’d tried to kill her cousin? Maggie had been an innocent human entangled in the political intrigue of Eria because of her bondmate’s role as king and Eamon’s hatred and lust for power.

  An equally unnerving thought intruded. Who knew if he even wanted to be with her? She might just be a warm body he took comfort in for a few months.

  With a sigh she stared at the snow-covered Christmas lights that glittered in the night. They still offered no solace or answ
ers. Guess it was time to go confront the dragon. Though she didn’t know what their discussion would bring, there’d be no rest until she talked to him.

  “Ready to go, boy?” she asked Archie softly. A streetlight above them let her see how his soulful eyes rested on her as he lumbered beside her. With a whine, he turned his head and nosed at her leg. Affection welled in her troubled heart. Her boy sensed her turmoil? He could be perceptive, so she wasn’t surprised.

  She glanced in the direction of the apartment building and set her shoulders resolutely. Before she lost her last bit of courage, she needed to do this, no matter what it put into motion.

  EAMON PACED AROUND the living room, waiting for Caralyn to return with Archie. His hands clenched. He knew that bastard graykindred had let something slip about Maggie. Why else would Caralyn be so upset? She was a tenderhearted woman, so finding out that he’d tried to kill her cousin and Cal would’ve come as a severely nasty shock.

  His mind worked uselessly to create some kind of story to feed her, but for once, he was out of schemes and manipulations. Damn it, what had she done to him, and why did the thought of losing her send panic skittering down his spine like spiders? This couldn’t be love, could it? If he were anyone but himself, he’d think it was.

  He couldn’t love and make himself vulnerable, but wasn’t he already defenseless to her? She might not know it, but she could wound him more deeply than anyone alive. That terrifying fact made him stumble and nearly brought him to his knees.

  Taking a steadying breath, he righted himself but it didn’t stop the past from intruding. Every sordid detail rushed in like flood waters, with his father and Serrina — the queen and his father’s sister — front and center.

  After the death of his mother, he’d learned the hard way not to trust people, especially the ones who were supposed to love and protect him.

  After his father’s neglect, Eamon’s aunt — though it grated against everything in him to think of her as that — had taken him under her guidance. At first, as a lonely teen, he soaked up the queen’s attention, but he soon learned it came at a steep price. She touched him in a way no aunt should, and before he knew it, she’d taken him to her bed.