Page 93 of Soulbound
Cleo took a deep breath, perched upon the branch they'd both climbed. It was becoming easier to see her, thanks to familiarity, but the cloak she wore was embroidered and spelled with runes, courtesy of Bishop. Not quite an Invisibility Cloak, but one that kept telling him to look away, look away, and he was developing a slight ache behind his right eye by forcing himself to see past it.
She reached out, testing the wards... and her hand passed through open air. They both released a faint breath.
Morgana's wards recognized her as an extension of him. Just as their heartbeats had aligned with the formation of the soul-bond, so had their auras.
He reached out to help Cleo inside, heart beating a little quicker. Her skirts slithered over the sill, and she fell against his chest, his arms wrapping around her.
They both froze.
Silence. He pressed a finger to her lips, and then opened his link to her. Instantly it felt like a weight eased from his shoulders, heat and life spilling through him, and cocooning him in the psychic scent of her.
This was what it felt like to be whole these days. Sometimes, in the dark of night, he wondered what if would feel like if he were to accept the bond completely. Right now, he could sense more of her than she of him, thanks to her initiation of the ritual. They were linked, but he was in control of how far it went.
What would it feel like to share thoughts with her as freely as Bishop and Verity clearly did? Or Ianthe and Lucien?
But she didn't know about the ticket to Manhattan, and he couldn't bear for her to dredge the depths of his nightmares or memories. Some things were never meant to be shared, especially those.
"Can you feel anything?" he asked.
Cleo closed her eyes and reached out to press her palm against the wall. The Divination Arts were completely foreign to him.
Her head tilted to the side, as if she were listening to something. Then her eyes shot open. "Got it. It's faint, but it's definitely inside the house. Lower, I think."
"You focus on the Blade. I'll keep an eye out for guards."
Cleo nodded, and he glided ahead of her, careful of his footsteps.
"There's no one on this floor," she whispered, in his mind. "But there are at least three people in the house. Downstairs, of course, which happens to be where the Blade is."
Sebastian untied the small bag at his hip, and plucked out one of the glass orbs Bishop had given him, planting it behind a statue as they slipped along the hallway. As much as he hated to admit it, the man was pure genius when it came to spell craft. Bishop was better suited to being a scientist, or an engineer, but he somehow managed to put those instincts to use to make himself a better assassin.
She grabbed for his arm, just as alarm screamed through her. "Someone's coming."
Sebastian shoved her behind a curtain, into a small window alcove and followed her in, hand resting on her ribs. This was the hardest bit. The second he embraced his power, any sorcerer nearby would feel the prickling sensation of it.
Cleo sucked in a slow breath, her breasts crushed against his chest, and despite the urgency of the situation, he couldn't stop his gaze from shifting lower. From this height–this position—he had a prime view directly down her bodice. Black lace teased him, tantalizing more than hiding her assets from view, and those creamy swells thrust up as if to tempt him.
He felt her gaze on his face and glanced up, beneath his lashes, realizing he'd been caught looking.
"Later." Even her mental whisper sounded husky.
Later. Jesus. His cock swelled at the thought, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Now was definitely not the time. Or the place.
But there was no telling his cock that.
Footsteps stalked past, a man muttering under his breath. "...ain't here to be at your ladyship's beck-and-fuckin'-call."
Those stern boots hammered up the stairs, and Sebastian breathed out. "Anyone else setting off your Premonition?"
Cleo shook her head slowly.
Easing aside the curtains, he backed out into the parlor, setting another of the glass orbs beneath a stuffed parrot's tail where it wouldn't be seen. Five left in the bag. He planted them in the rooms they passed through as they followed Cleo's hesitant tugs toward the Blade.
"Down." Cleo sent the thought to him as they covered the entire bottom floor. "I feel like it should be right here, but it’s not. The Blade must be below us."
He sighed. "Of course it is. She'll have set up her altar in the cellar. No doubt it's warded too."
They hurried through the servants’ hallway, and Sebastian pushed into the next room—
