Page 122 of Soulbound
"What is going through your mind right now?" Lady E whispered, following him in a swish of skirts. "You look like you're going to go toes-up at my feet."
He clutched the mantel, his voice hoarse. "She told me not to tell anyone."
"I am not simply anyone," Lady E said, in the loftiest tones he'd ever heard.
And he couldn't do this alone.
No matter what he’d promised her.
"Cleo had a dream," he said, meeting Lady E's eyes and silently begging her to understand. "Lord Tremayne summoned a demon into him the night Cleo was conceived. The demon inside Drake had something to do with her conception."
Lady E went pale.
Chapter 27
SEBASTIAN SLAMMED HIS fists into the sparring dummy, again and again. There was blood on his hands, and ice on the dummy. His mind felt numb, his heart working to pump blood through his veins, but nothing else. He was fighting through the rage, trying to overcome it, trying not to fall to his knees and cling desperately to the hollow ache where the bond had been. He felt like something was missing, amputated, leaving a ghostly echo behind.
All the light in his life was gone, all the laughter, and heat, and warmth was missing... and he couldn't think about what was happening to her. Couldn't think about Lady Beaumont's brutalized body. And Cleo's smile, the one that made his heart twist in his chest whenever he earned one of them.
She'd been wrapped around him like golden threads that pumped something vital into him, but now she was gone, and he had a horrible feeling the black queen had consumed her.
How long did he have to wait?
Lady E had rushed into motion the second he revealed Cleo's heritage and the truth about the black queen, insisting he prepare himself. And wait.
They needed the others, she'd told him, and he'd never seen Lady E—solid, unflappable Lady Eberhardt—look so flustered.
He couldn't simply do nothing. But what could he do by himself? Sebastian's arms finally failed him, and he slumped against the practice dummy in Bishop's dungeon-like cellar. Lady E insisted they gather there, and had sent out the call.
The door opened. Sebastian broke away from the dummy, turning with predatory intent, but it was a familiar figure.
Bishop stepped through, closing the door with a quiet snick. His brown eyes took in the state of the room, and the blood on Sebastian's knuckles. He cleared his throat. "Agatha told me what happened."
"I can't feel her." Sebastian looked away, the dense surge of hopelessness threatening to drag his head beneath the waters.
He couldn't give in. Rage poured through him. That was better than hopelessness. Guilt and shame flayed him raw, stripping the skin off his bones. He needed to make it hurt. It threatened to eat him alive, but he could work with pain. Cleo needed him.
Why had he ever let her leave with the demon?
"Where's Rathbourne?"
"On his way. Here," Bishop said, picking up one of the timber sparring staves. He tossed it toward Sebastian, who caught it, and began stripping his coat off. "Just give me a second."
The wood felt solid in his palm. "I thought I was supposed to meditate when I felt like this."
"Do you feel like meditating right now?"
"No." His breath steamed in the icy air. "I feel like punching something."
Bishop slicked his hair back with his palms, and then reached for the second stave. "That's why I'm here."
Sebastian faced him, the weight shifting off his shoulders. Hitting something was the only way he'd been able to still his mind, but having something hit back....
He needed this to clear his mind, or he'd go mad.
"You won't hurt me," Bishop said. "But you can try."
His voice felt raw. "Don't pull your blows. I want to feel it."
