Page 102 of Soulbound
And then she fled, before her emotions could get the better of her.
* * *
Sebastian stared after her, the ticket clenched in his hand. He knew his wife, he knew she wanted to say more, and yet she’d closed herself off to him in a way she’d never done before. She’d even locked down the bond from her side, muting her emotions—but not before he’d felt the sharp slash of pain that rippled through her.
Jesus. She hadn’t let him explain.
And he didn’t know if he could explain, for he didn’t even know precisely what he wanted to do.
The ticket mocked him. The lure of escaping all this mess still attracted him. He could feel the pull of it even now, even in the face of Cleo’s distress; a fresh start away from his mother’s machinations; away from the guilt of Drake’s sacrifice, and the frustrating lessons Bishop was pushing him headlong into; away from responsibility, the concept of family, commitment, and a world he didn’t understand. One he’d never known, one where other people expected things from him—no, demanded them.
A world where Cleo existed, trying at every moment to connect with him, when she was the one thing that utterly destroyed him.
A world where he feared her disappointment, feared the loss of her affection, of never being able to measure up to the image of him that she’d somehow concocted—a hero who could save her, a good man, one who rescued kidnapped children and protected his wife of convenience. A husband who could offer her love, when he didn’t even know how.
But he wasn’t that man.
He’d killed people, mostly at Morgana’s will, but sometimes… sometimes of his own volition. He’d fucked women he cared nothing for, learning how to lock himself away from his body while it performed. He’d walked away from innocents, knowing any interaction of his would only earn them worse punishment from his mother’s schemes. He’d deafened his ears to screams and cries for mercy. He’d locked himself away, locked his heart away, and turned himself into something that lived and existed, and didn’t own hope or dream of anything more, because sometimes the most brutal thing his mother could do to him was allow him a chance to hope, only to tear it away.
It was the only way he knew how to survive.
Until suddenly he was free of his mother’s command, and a whole world had unfolded before him. Choices. The ability to make his own decisions, to imagine possibilities. A future he’d never had before. Escape.
And yet he’d found himself in a new set of chains. A wife. Brothers. Sisters-in-law. A father he’d never known, but had hated. A father who’d sacrificed his own life so Sebastian could know this freedom. Family. Family.
It was too much. It had been too much.
Sebastian stared at the ticket. Morgana had been captured. He had no reason to stay. But he knew events here weren’t finished.
No reason, except a wife who was trying not to cry, right at this moment. "If you wish an annulment…."
He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his future, but he knew the answer to that one question at least. No annulment. Cleo evoked a thousand different emotions within him, including ones he couldn’t even name, and yet walking away from her, never seeing her again…. That knot in his gut was back, but the longer he waited....
"Is something amiss?" Bishop asked, staring through the open door. "I came to see how you were."
How you were....
"Shouldn't you be questioning Morgana?" he asked.
Bishop blinked. "I was just on my way down there."
A sharp knot began to untwist within his chest. Morgana was important. The demon was important. And Bishop was obsessed with rescuing his father.
It struck him then, what the man was trying to say. He'd come here first.
He... cared?
Another thought struck him. Bishop hadn't been happy to let Sebastian break into his mother's house. Watch your back, he'd said at the time, and Sebastian had thought it meant, don't fail.
But Bishop was still wearing the pink waistcoat—though he'd taken it off for the mission—and he was here, instead of trying to wring questions from the one person who might know how to find the demon.
Merde, he was looking at this all wrong.
"You are definitely not all right," Bishop said, his dark brows drawing together. "Do you want to go spar? Or hit something? It always makes me feel better."
Sebastian stared at the ticket. He'd made a ruin of this. These people cared for him. It felt... surreal. His feet were moving, faster than his thoughts. "Not now. I have to find Cleo."
Sebastian went after her, tracking her through the house. The library. Of course. It was where she always sought refuge, hiding in that bloody book she'd become absorbed in.
