Page 140 of Soulbound

"I do. I am more than a pawn in your immortal game. And so are my friends. And if there is indeed something out there, then I shall tell Ianthe and the others, and we will take care of it. Here. On this plane. In this time. Goodbye."

And then she turned her back on him, and went back to join her family.

Epilogue

Two years later....

* * *

HE WAS LATE. Sebastian snapped the pocket watch shut, cursing his brothers under his breath. He had a sparring appointment with Bishop every Monday morning, and Lucien had started joining in of late, now his full powers were finally starting to return.

Neither of them was any match for Bishop, of course, despite his vastly weakened state. He'd never truly regained his full strength after the battle with the demon, but he seemed at peace with it. The loss of power was a small price to pay for the loss of the maladroise, he claimed.

That didn't make him any less dangerous.

In spite of the drubbing Sebastian regularly took, it was enjoyable to meet with them, though he'd never admit that. Lucien's new baby, Adeline, took most of his attention these days, and Bishop could barely contain his enthusiasm over Verity's increasing state. They all had dinner once or twice a month, of course, for the ladies were firm friends—and dangerous allies when they all got together—and Drake enjoyed being able to host family dinners.

The carriage rattled as it hit a puddle. Cleo would be wondering where he was.

Sebastian collapsed back onto the carriage seat, trying to ignore his clammy great cloak. It would be a cold ride home, and to warm himself he thought of what waited for him there. A wife in every sense of the word. One who'd blindfolded him and pleasured him with her mouth and hands the night before. The thought of her summoned the little knot in his mind that was their link, and he couldn't help himself really. He reached through the link, the bond opening like a blooming flower until the sensation of her drenched him. Warmth cocooned her, and Cleo stirred sleepily, reaching out to touch the link on her side.

All of a sudden it was like staring directly at her. Thoughts swelled around him: her curiosity, her pleasure in having him reach out to her, and the simple state of happiness she relaxed within. She felt... sated.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

There was a pause. "I'm in the bath. What are you doing?"

Naked. Wet. All that glorious hair draped in a knot on top of her head. His mouth went dry. "I'm on my way home. Doing what in the bath?"

"Washing myself," she replied, with a wicked little laugh. "What do you generally get up to when you're in the bath?"

"You seem remarkably pleased with yourself," he pointed out. "One wonders what you've been up to."

After all, she was no longer quite so innocent.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

The husky sensation of her thoughts made his cock harden. "You've been fucking yourself with your fingers, haven't you?"

The flush of embarrassment returned through the link, and any hints of Cleo as a seductress vanished. "No! I was reading a book in the bath. I'm warm, relaxed, and it's an interesting book. Honestly, is that all you men think of?"

These days, yes. "What sort of book?"

"Geraldine Hibbert's Thoughts on Time."

More dry treatises on sorcery. He winced. "Sounds interesting."

"It is interesting," she replied, and he sensed her putting the book aside, where it wouldn't get wet. Water sloshed over her skin as she lay back, and he could almost feel the sensation on his own skin.

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly, and her thoughts stilled as she followed the path of his own.

"Saying no to Quentin Farshaw? Of course not."

"You wouldn't have to resort to reading books by people with half your skills, or visiting with Madrigal Brown."

"And I wouldn't be happy either," she pointed out, "or trying to seduce my husband."

He smiled. "Are you trying to seduce your husband?"