Page 82 of Soulbound
He moved restlessly, circling the room. "My mother saw me as a weapon she'd designed to unseat my father. All she ever wanted from me was to use me. To kill her enemies, to fuck her friends, to threaten those she despised with my strength.
"And Bishop wants to use me to get my father back. It's a different kind of leash, but all he cares for is my sorcery too."
"That's not true," she said, stepping forward. "He's your brother."
"She was my mother." He'd found the brandy again, and the room was very, very cold. "And you. What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," she whispered.
If it were a test, she would have failed. His entire expression shut down, those silver eyes glinting in the moonlight as he sipped at his brandy. "That's not entirely true, is it, Cleo?"
Cold. He moved with predatory intent toward her, and she sucked in a sharp breath. There was something languid to the movement now. Something predatory.
"You want my body—"
"Only if you wish to give it," she protested, taking a step back. "Last night was special." Wasn't it?
"You want my heart."
She had nothing to say to that. She captured his cheek in her hand, and perhaps it was that which confused him. She meant to comfort him, but his eyes turned to molten silver, and he swooped down and took her mouth in a searing kiss.
Cleo kissed him back desperately, aching with his pain, and frightened of this mood of his.
As far as kisses went, it was sublime. Perfect. Designed to arouse her, but also designed to give nothing back. A kiss like this could consume, but it left one hungry, denied the substance she craved so much. Each stroke of his hands set her on fire, for he knew what a woman wanted from him.
Hands moved with ruthless intent toward her robe, and he tore it open with a sharp tug, breaking the kiss.
And that was when she realized she could not heal him with a kiss, or a gentle touch.
This was not love. This was sex, and Sebastian was playing the role that had been predetermined for him by all those other women.
The glitter of his eyes cut her with sharp knives. "You want this," he whispered, tracing those tormenting kisses down her throat. "And this."
Hands on her breasts, his thumb circling her aching nipple....
Stop. She placed a hand, very firmly, upon his chest. "No."
"I can give you my body." His thumb stroked the side of her breast, and it ached both within and without, for a part of her yearned for his touch. Even as she knew he wasn't there. Not tonight.
This was Sebastian at his cruelest. Sebastian with his mask firmly in place. A hollow, gilded man.
"I said no." Cleo sucked in ragged breath, and pushed him away from her. "This isn't a transaction. This is... a gift. I would give my heart to you, my body, and ask for nothing in return." She looked up. "Though yes, I desire it."
The shock on his face turned to uncertainty, and then a brief flicker of horror went through his eyes. He looked down at her as she tried to control her ragged breathing, and she knew what he saw. Her robe agape. and her hair tumbling in a messy braid over her shoulder, her lips kiss-stung and swollen.
"You want me," he said, as if to try and understand, and a little piece of her heart broke because she knew he was trapped in the past right now, seeing sex and lust as a bargaining chip, as a game of control and hate.
"Not like that." Cleo tucked her robe back together. "And not this particular incarnation of you. I want the man who makes a rose bloom for me, and asks for his first kiss. I want the man who danced with me because he knew it was my first ball, and... because I'd always dreamed of it." She took a trembling breath. "I want the man who looks at me and sees me. Me. Not other women, not other times. I know what you have been through. I sympathize. And I will always be there for you if you wish to talk about it. But if you think I will let you use me like that even as you're pushing me away, then I suggest you think again."
She tied the knots on her robe. "I don't want anything from you that you're not prepared to give to me. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is to see you happy. And... and if you cannot be happy with me," she whispered, her mouth tasting like ash, "then I would grant you an annulment. The marriage remains unconsummated.” "But what of you?"
Cleo sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to think of all she'd lost. "I shall make do. It will hurt, I would expect." Voice firming, she looked up. "I care for you. You know I do, and I cannot hide my feelings. But my happiness does not depend upon you. With or without you, I will make my own way in this life, though I would like it very much if you were by my side." He looked so lost, and her heart ached. "I would like that very much."
"I'm sorry." He went to his knees before her, and there was her Sebastian again. "I don't understand you sometimes, or what you want from me."
"Yes, you do." She stroked his black hair back from his face, caressing the roughened stubble of his jaw. "It's yourself you do not understand. I love you."
His face twisted. "I don't know what that means."
