Page 138 of Soulbound
Their eyes met.
"You weren't yourself," he repeated, looking away. "And I'm not interested in being a demon's meal."
"I think," she said quietly, "there is just enough chivalry within you, even though you try to hide it."
"There is nothing good within me, Cleo." He shifted angrily. "I'm an incubus. Touched by the Shadow Dimensions, twisted and unholy."
"And so am I," she told him.
He flinched from that.
"Are you trying to tell me there is nothing good within me either?"
"No." He slumped again. "Any fool can see there is goodness within you."
"Even after what I did?" She cupped his hands, drawing just enough power into herself to heal him. "I'm so, so sorry." Tears burned in her eyes as she saw her hand lift the hammer again, and drive the spike through his palm.
She hadn't been able to stop herself—or the black queen, to be honest, for she would bear the guilt for that creature's actions.
He hesitated. "It wasn't you."
"I couldn't stop her." The tears started flowing. "I could see everything she was doing, but my hands were not my own. I'm so sorry for your friend."
His mouth twisted. "Odette shouldn't have tried to protect me. And it was not your hand that struck her down. I'll lay that at the demon's feet."
"All the same, she was your friend." Cleo squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"My loss." He looked up at her then, as if she'd said something utterly incomprehensible. "She was just an incubus, just...." And then he shook his head, as if even he couldn't believe the lies falling from his lips. "Odette mattered. To me."
"Yes," she said, dashing her tears from her cheeks. "You should join the others. They're going to rouse the carriages and return to town. There's nothing for you here."
"I don't think there is a place for me there either," he mused. "Your husband doesn't like me."
"I think he's forgiven you for stealing that kiss," she said. "He did save your life, after all. And he knows you tried to stop the demon from taking me. Those are points in your favor."
"What happens when she wakes?" he whispered hoarsely.
They were speaking of the girl in the glass coffin.
"I don't know. I didn't see that." Cleo squeezed his hand. "But I know she will wake, and perhaps the answer to that question is up to you. You're the one who makes your own choices, and you've been given a second chance now. What will she see when she wakes up? That choice is yours."
It clearly wasn't what he wanted to hear. Malachi's face shuttered, but he nodded. "I had best go bury Odette, or what is left of her." He hauled himself to his feet, scraping his hair back off his face before giving her a lingering look. "Good luck with your husband. You should know... I lied when I said he hadn't given you his heart. He had. He just didn't know it at the time."
A fist eased inside her. "Thank you."
Malachi pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "No. Thank you."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the dark as if it swallowed him whole.
"That was well done," said a voice behind her.
Cleo turned so swiftly she almost fell. Quentin Farshaw stepped out of the shadows, his dark hair tumbling in thick curls around his face.
"You were watching?" she demanded sharply.
He nodded slowly, his gaze settling on the still-burning pyres of the imps, and the smoldering star. "I saw it all. You chose the Light, and I was here to bear witness."
"I read your book. You were sired by a demon. Your gifts were demon-born too."
