Page 101 of Soulbound
He couldn't recall anyone ever simply holding him before Cleo, and the sudden hunger to be in her arms was overwhelming.
This tenderness was something he was unaccustomed to. Holding her hand last night for hours had felt like more of a connection than anything he'd ever felt before. Desperate to hold her closer, he drew her into his arms, pressing his face against her throat. A shiver ran through him.
"Let it out," she whispered, but he couldn't. He couldn't.
Soft hands slid up and down his arms. "It hit me hard the night of the Ascension," she admitted. "When my father died. I knew it was going to happen. I'd Seen it." She made a little strangled sound in her throat. "I'd tried to turn him from his path. But it was inevitable in the end, for he didn't want to stray from it. Not if he had a chance at confronting Drake and killing him. His hatred for your father ran too deep for him to listen to me."
Cleo slid her hands into his hair, letting the black strands run between her fingers. He looked up, focusing on her soft mouth.
"It still hurt," she whispered. "Even though he earned his own death. Even though he was barely a father to me. No. He was a horrible father. There. I've said it."
"The Order will execute her," he said softly. "She deserves it."
"I know she's horrible. I know she's evil. But it's all right to grieve her loss, or the loss of what she could have been. What you hoped she could have been. She was still your mother. A terrible mother, but... I understand."
Sebastian shuddered, turning his face into her palm. "She tried to kill me."
Cleo's expression softened, and her eyes shimmered with the tears he could not shed. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, her thumbs stroking his cheeks.
He set his hands on her wrists. Not now. He couldn't.... He wanted the comfort she offered, but after the other night, he didn't dare touch her like that when his head was such a mess. She deserved better than for him to use her body to make himself feel better.
"Maybe later, Cleo." He sat back, and raked his hands through his hair. "I want to burn her fucking journal."
"I’ll fetch it for you." She moved to the pile of books Sebastian had set on his bedside table.
He stared leadenly at the wall, feeling empty within.
And it was only when it was too late that he realized what he'd tucked inside the journal, to keep it safe from prying eyes.
* * *
At first she didn’t quite realize what she held in her hand. Her mind moved slower than her eyes could perceive. A ticket… Liverpool to Manhattan… Mr. Sebastian Montcalm. A steerage ticket made out in her husband’s name. But why would he…?
A soft inhalation of breath sounded behind her, and Cleo looked up just as Sebastian turned sharply in his chair.
His gaze dropped to her hand.
To the ticket.
And the second she saw the expression on his face, it all suddenly made a great deal of sense.
"You’re leaving." The date was printed right there—a week. No, less than that. The room spun around her. She felt like she couldn’t gather her thoughts.
"Cleo—"
And suddenly time snapped back into place, an odd clarity pervading her thoughts even as her heart curled into a small, tight knot in her chest, oddly painful. "No," she whispered. "I think I understand. You never wanted this. You never wanted any of this. All you’ve ever been focused upon is the destruction of your mother, and—"
"I wanted freedom," he snapped. "You don’t know what it’s like… to spend the past fifteen years bound to Morgana’s will by that fucking collar. All I’ve ever dreamed of is escape. And… I didn’t know…. I hadn’t made up my mind yet, but—"
"Hadn’t made up your mind?" She shook the ticket at him, the heat of her anger suddenly scalding. All she’d ever demanded from him was the truth. It was her own damned fault she felt something more, but she couldn’t begrudge him that. But he’d lied to her. He'd let her believe there was something more growing between them. "This looks like it’s quite made up to me. You bought a ticket. Were you even going to tell me? Or your brothers? Or would I have just woken up one day to find a letter on the bed? Did you plan to help us with your father, or have you simply washed your hands of him—"
"It’s not like that."
"Then tell me what it’s like!"
A rap at the door interrupted. Cleo swallowed down the hot words she’d been about to spill. She couldn’t deal with this. Not right now. Not on top of everything else. And she was dangerously close to tears. The last thing she wanted right now was to betray how upset she felt.
"I won’t hold you to this bond," she whispered, setting the ticket in his hand as she strode past. "And if you wished to get an annulment, then I would not protest. Perhaps… perhaps this was all a mistake."
