Page 107 of Soulbound
She was finally a wife.
Cleo lay curled in Sebastian’s arms, as her husband slept, his breath stirring her nape. Her body ached in several places, but she was fairly certain she wanted to do this again. Many times.
Her cheeks ached, but her smile slowly faded as the grim reality of the situation crept in. They'd captured Morgana, and now they had all three relics. She and Sebastian couldn't hide in here forever.
And then of course....
She stared up at the ceiling, nerves twisting within her. Curse Farshaw's book.
Sebastian stirred, drawing her into his arms with a sleepy murmur. "Care to tell me what's bothering you?"
"Bothering me?"
He traced a finger between her breasts. "There's a darkness in your heart. A shadow. I don't know what it means, but I know you're scared about something."
Enjoyment flooded from her like a shroud someone tore from her skin. She sat up, raking her hair back from her face. It wasn't as though she could hide things from him anymore, but if she didn't think about it too strongly, then he wouldn't know.
But was that fair?
He'd given her all his secrets. They were in this together, no matter how nervous her latest suspicion made her. She couldn't stop thinking about her flash into the past and what she'd seen there.
...the demon is in me.
She was almost absolutely certain she knew where her divination gifts had come from, but there were other implications she'd only recently begun to dwell on.
Her mother was dead. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't find any trace of her blood out there when she scried. There was only one other possible candidate in that scene who could have been the nemesis she'd been preparing to meet.
"Cleo." He watched her making her decision, his silver eyes patient, but narrowing. "Who is the black queen?"
Chapter 23
CLEO SAT UP abruptly, the soft languidness of the prior moment washing off her as if it had never happened. "How did you know that name?"
Sebastian rolled onto his back, slinging his arm above his head. "I sensed it through the bond. You were thinking about it as we lay there."
Cleo threw the sheets back, slipping from the bed, a nervous exhilaration suddenly running through her veins. "I n-need something to drink."
Finding her robe, she slipped it on, feeling far too naked all of a sudden. There was a flagon of wine on the sideboard. Two glasses. A celebration for two that she’d prepared earlier, and needed now.
The rustling of sheets behind her told her he’d shifted to watch her. Cleo gulped her first mouthful of wine, clinging to the sideboard. What was she going to tell him?
"The truth, preferably," he murmured.
And she realized the bond between them was wide open. Cleo slid her shield neatly back into place and turned to look at him, her heart seizing in her chest.
He was beautiful. Intelligent. Everything she’d ever wanted. And he was finally in her bed, their marriage consummated. It should have been a dream come true, and yet the first cold tendrils of fear slid through her.
"I told you about my prophecy," she whispered. "London’s doom."
"Me," he murmured.
Cleo’s throat locked tight. "You were always there. The dark clouds swirled around you, seeming to overwhelm you, and you screamed a cry of such loss and fell to your knees and the entire sky ripped open, destroying London. And the only thing that seems to offer any hope is a flurry of white lights, beating back the tide of darkness." She paused. "I thought it was you. I thought you were the creator of such destruction, the wielder of the portal. I thought every light represented a person who might be able to hold you back. Me. Drake. Bishop. Lady E… all of them. But I misread the Vision."
That brought his gaze to hers, a sudden predatory intensity highlighting the hard lines of his face.
"It’s not you," she whispered, setting the wine aside and pacing to the windows, staring sightlessly through the glass. "The night we bonded—just before your mother kidnapped me—I awoke in a dream. It was the first time I’ve dream-walked, and I don’t think it was of my own volition. The demon was there, sitting across a chessboard from me. It told me to make a move, that I was the white queen, the one who directs the play. The one who could see the future. And so I made a move. I set Bishop into play, and the demon moved his own rook—Verity. The night Drake sacrificed himself to the demon, I received a second dream. My father was dead, which meant I’d taken one of the demon’s major players. Verity was now wearing a white sash, and I’d won her over to my side, but… the demon had taken Drake. The game ended in a stalemate."
"We’re all chess pieces?"
