Page 14 of Soulbound

And there he was.

Sebastian.

Her husband.

After weeks of not even a letter to ask how she was.

A month in which he'd refused to see her when she tried to call upon him, to help him, to scratch this uncertain itch within her that seemed to be their bond.

Days of Lady Eberhardt patting her hand and telling her to be patient, that Sebastian was learning to master his emotions, and he would come round, and—

Their eyes met.

The shock of his beauty was an instant slap in the face. Black hair the color of a raven's wing was brushed back off his temples, and his eyes were like molten quicksilver. Her gaze strayed to that full mouth, and the masculine cleft in his chin. She'd never seen him before their marriage, though she'd heard the maids whispering about how handsome he was. With her blindfold on, all he'd ever been to her was a voice, a warm body, someone kind, who'd seemed to yearn for her gentle nature.

Someone who'd once stroked her hair in the middle of the night, in the bed they both shared, and whispered that he couldn't touch her. That he did not dare.

That she'd married a monster.

And she'd given her heart to him in that second, only to have him dash it at her feet with a flagrant lack of regard the second he was free of his mother.

Cleo, the girl who'd never feared to face a single dragon in her life, couldn't stand there a single second longer.

Grabbing her skirts, she turned and fled.

Chapter 4

SEBASTIAN'S BREATH PUNCHED out of him for a second time that day.

Cleo was nothing but a whirl of blue skirts, her long blonde hair braided messily, and her eyes—

Her eyes were pretty and brown and filled with hurt. He couldn't really recall seeing them before. He took a step after her, his hand reached out as if to somehow catch her, before he realized what he was doing.

Two sets of eyes locked on him. Sebastian found it difficult to swallow. He lowered his hand. "My apologies. Perhaps—"

"Get after the gel." Lady Eberhardt snorted. "This can wait. Judging from the expression on her face, your wife won't."

It’s better this way. He couldn't hurt her like this—and he knew, from nights spent stroking his psychic senses against that golden knot in his mind, that he had. Sebastian's weight shifted. No matter what he told himself, the desire to go to her warred with common sense.

He'd forgotten how beautiful she was.

"This is the one time I'm inclined to agree with Agatha," Bishop said, tugging off his gloves. There was a marriage ring on his finger, barely a week old, and seven others to denote his rank in the Order. "Recent experience has taught me never to take your wife's feelings for granted."

"I thought I was supposed to be learning to control my emotions?"

Bishop cocked a brow. "Is your meeting with Cleo going to upset them?"

Seeing her, talking to her was going to do more than that. It was going to obliterate any scrap of control he owned.

"Go," Bishop repeated gently, his dark gaze taking in the answer that was no doubt showing on Sebastian's face. "Bottling up your emotions isn't healthy either."

Sebastian ground his teeth together. "I don't want to disappoint her." That wasn't the entire truth.

I don't want to hurt her.

I don't want... to see her disappointment in me. To see the hopeful way she looks at me fade.

Which it would.