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Fists pushed deep into the pockets of his ratty jacket, Adam forced himself to remain still, to not take hold of Lucien, the little pismire, and pummel him. He knew full well that Lucien sought to antagonize him. The man was in a mood over some transgression Adam had unknowingly made, and this was his revenge. It had bloody well worked.
“I do believe,” said the canny bastard, “that I shall leave you two to your tête-à-tête.” Swift as a bird, Lucien rose and gave Adam a bow. Adam waited until Lucien glided past to grab him by the elbow.
Lucien halted, his expression impassive, but there was a challenge in his eyes. He wanted a fight. Adam leaned in, hovering over the slighter man. “I want you to send word to Augustus. You know how to do this, I assume?”
It was almost amusing the way Lucien’s face clouded in confusion, save Adam wasn’t in the mood for levity.
“I do,” Lucien said finally.
“Good. Tell him that St. John is under Mab’s control. A blood bond. He may well know. But perhaps not the extent.” Adam had thought of St. John when he’d told his tale. The boy likely suffered more than simply heeding the bitch’s orders.
Frowning, Lucien gave Adam a short nod of acknowledgment. Adam let him go, giving him a warning glare that conveyed his displeasure and the knowledge that he’d soon lose his temper were Lucien not out of his sight. Smartly, his second in command quit the room with due haste, leaving Adam alone with Eliza.
“What did you say to him?” Her tone was accusatory, as though she’d protect Lucien if she must.
Adam ground his teeth together until his jaw ached. The bastard had been cupping Eliza’s cheek with tender familiarity. Touching smooth flesh that Adam ached to… He took a deep breath, fighting off the urge to roar. It did not matter that he knew Lucien had no desire for women; in his mind, Adam could almost feel the shape of his old sword handle against his palms, the weight of it and how much force he’d need to slice it. Clean through Lucien’s neck.
Temper, temper. Adam slowed his breathing and brought his attention back to her. Whether or not that was wise, he did not know. As always, simply looking upon her was a kick to his gut. From the beginning, he’d felt the primal instinct to claim. A call within that shouted: mine. As a warrior, he’d trusted his instincts. They had kept him alive in battle. But the fiend he’d been for centuries had lived by cold calculation and logic. And his mind told him to proceed with caution. Eliza May had softened towards him, but she was still skittish.
As it was, she sat, half turned in her chair, a slender arm draped over the back of it, and glared at him, those luminous brown eyes full of wariness. It had been unsettling to see her and Lucien together, their heads nearly touching. Neither of them possessed the milk-white skin of Londoners. They shared a golden, honeyed glow, as if the sun had blessed them with its favor. Beautiful creatures both, with bold features and full lips. A pretty picture, they made. As if they belonged together.
Though Eliza held the look of the fae as well. It was in the satin gloss of her dark gold curls, and the way her eyes tipped up at the corners, their color so deep brown they held a hint of purple. And she’d been sharing a confidence with Lucien.
“Answer my questions, and I shall answer yours.” His voice sounded like rust, his throat raw, as if he had been shouting. “Is this about the fae?”
“No, not the fae —”
“Then what? You will tell me now, Eliza. I am weary of your secrets.” As soon as he made the demand, he knew he’d erred.
Her nostrils flared on a drawn breath. “You realize that I am under no obligation to tell you anything.”
Adam ran a hand over his tight jaw. “I lashed out in jealousy, dove. You ken? It… you have the unique ability to steal my reason, if I’m speaking true.” And wasn’t that bloody inconvenient, when he needed all his wits about him.
She held his gaze for a moment, then the starch went out of her shoulders, and her tone went soft. “It was nothing. I suspect Lucien was merely trying to annoy you.”
She stood, and the movement sent the light of the sun across her skin. Something glimmered there, a flash that caught his eye. Perhaps he’d seen it because his paranoia ran high at the moment, but Adam could not stop himself from reaching out and tracing his fingers along her collarbone.
Eliza stiffened, but did not back away from him. His fingers snared the invisible chain, and when he lifted it off her skin, the tiny pocket watch dangled before him. Adam stared at it, memories and a strange heaviness clamped down on his heart.
“Lucien gave it to me.” Eliza’s tone was defensive, if not slightly shaken. She was wary of the watch. Wary of him once more.
“This is mine.” You are mine.
Her pert chin raised a notch. “Then why was it in Lucien’s possession?”
“He was keeping it safe for me.” Adam’s mind drifted off, thinking of those dark hours when Eliza had first escaped him and he knew he must give himself over to Mab. It was then he’d placed the watch in Lucien’s reluctant hand.
“This is the heart and soul of the GIM. Keep them well. Keep them safe. You are their king now.”
Lucien’s expression had been grim, angry. “It is your heart and soul as well. I am but a caretaker until you can retrieve it, mon ami.”
Adam’s hand trembled as he lifted the piece higher, the light catching the crystal and sparking a rainbow of color against his dull coat front. “Do you know what this is?” he asked Eliza in a low voice.
