Page 16 of Soulbound
He could stand her anger, but not her tears. "Cleo—"
But she set her palms against his chest as if to hold him at bay, and Sebastian staggered back against the garden arch.
"Don't touch me," she said, a single glossy tear sliding down her cheek as she held herself stiffly. "I am not so desperate as that."
She'd wanted him to touch her.
Once.
He stepped closer. "I can't think when I'm around you. And as much as you doubt it, I'm not good for you, Cleo, especially right now. I gave myself over to the demon, and I can still feel the stain of it upon my soul. Drake promised the demon his body because of me." The words came out a little hoarsely. "I have to help get him back, and destroy that creature. I needed to think, to try and learn whatever Bishop could teach me. And I couldn't do that with you nearby."
Another tear. Her lip trembled. "I could have helped you. I could have supported you."
"And then my mother is still at large, and she knows you're important to me. She will kill you, just to cut at me."
"She promised to kill me, regardless of whether you're in my life or not. I stood against her," Cleo whispered, her anger softening. "She won't forgive that."
"No. She won't forgive that." Sebastian reached up and cupped her soft cheek. "I never meant to hurt you. Don't cry. Please don't cry."
Somehow he wrapped his arms around her. Then she was in his arms, her face pressed against his shoulder as she sobbed. And he could feel her tears wetting his collar, his throat, feel the tremble in her body as her misery wracked her. Cleo. Cleo. The one perfect thing in his world. The one thing that could destroy him utterly.
Or no, perhaps it was the other way around.
You destroy everything you ever touch, said his mother's poisonous whisper, in his memories.
And he knew himself well enough to believe it.
Even now, the press of Cleo's body brought uncomfortable memories. He wanted to soften, wanted to melt against her, but her breath whispered against his throat, and suddenly it was another's woman's breath, and he could still feel the choking bite of the sclavus collar, even though he'd melted the fucking thing.
Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils. Cleo. You're with Cleo. Not someone else.
But his heart was racing, and he could feel his body cringing away from hers.
This was the best he could do in this moment.
Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, clinging to the sobbing frame of his wife, feeling as though every sucked-in breath that shook her stabbed him in the heart. "I'm sorry," he said, all knotted up inside, stroking her back, feeling the press of her spine behind the bones of her corset.
And she lifted her face, her mouth tilting toward his in a rush.
Sebastian set her away from him, staggering back in shock. "No." That couldn't happen.
Cleo stared at him, her hand pressed against her lips as if he'd slapped her. Tears ravaged her reddened cheeks. He saw the moment she made a decision, and he reached for her, but it was too late.
"I understand," she whispered, wiping her eyes.
Then she turned and walked away, and this time he did not go after her. For though she didn't understand, he couldn't, in this moment, explain his sudden revulsion.
Chapter 5
'Demons find it difficult to exist in the mortal plane. Something in this world drains them. They are not created of flesh, as we are, and require a great deal more energy than we do to survive, be it from blood magic, or sex. They much prefer to take a human body as a vessel, to anchor them in the mortal plane, and protect them from whatever natural forces pull at them. This also makes them invulnerable to mortal weapons, for they are... not truly here, in the sense that we know it. The only known way to weaken a demon is to kill its vessel, and trap it in a warded circle, though such a task is not easy.'
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—Alaric Godsgrave, Book of Demonology
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"WHY DON'T YOU tell them why they're here?" Ianthe murmured, holding her hands out to the coals in the grate, as if she was cold.
