Page 29 of Soulbound

"It’s heady, isn’t it?" Sebastian murmured. "I can feel your—"

"—every emotion," she whispered, trying not to delve too deeply.

It wasn’t emotion he’d been about to comment upon. Cleo flushed, and looked up, falling into the depths of those silver eyes. He’d never once made any sort of innuendo, or attempt at seduction. Indeed, apart from that one kiss she’d pressed upon him the very first time they’d met, and the awkwardness of the night they’d shared a bed, there’d been little sign of his feelings for her, both emotional and physical.

And she wanted him to kiss her. So much so it was an almost physical ache deep inside her.

"Focus," Bishop warned. "We’re almost there."

And somehow Sebastian drew back from her, just enough for them both to catch their breaths.

A dark-skinned woman dressed in a scarlet corset embroidered with what appeared to be tiny diamonds strode toward them, her skirts falling away from her knees and draping lower in back. She wore stockings the same color as her skin, with embroidered flowers upon them—or were they tattoos?—and a pair of heeled shoes that elongated her legs. Cleo almost choked.

"Don’t look her in the eyes," Remington warned. "She’s not entirely human either."

"What precisely does that mean?" Bishop muttered. "What exactly is this Malachi? And his servant?"

"Corrupted by the Shadow Dimensions," Remington replied.

"Corrupted?" the woman called in a melodious voice, as she paused in front of them. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Are we friends, Odette?" Remington drawled.

Odette was beautiful, her hair braided at the temples, with a halo of tight curls surrounding her face. She stalked a slow circle around Remington, inspecting him from head to toe. "Perhaps not." The smile on her face never died. "He’s gone to refresh himself. He's been waiting for you to visit."

"He knew we were coming?" Bishop asked.

A quick flick of Remington’s dark eyes. "He’s been waiting for me for decades. Malachi likes to play at cat-and-mouse, and so far I’ve declined to entertain his notions."

"Tsk, tsk," Odette said, sliding her hands up under Remington's coat. "Poor Mal will be ever so disappointed to hear you disparage him so…."

Remington caught her wrists, just as her hands slid down his waistcoat en route to his belt. "He knows any friendship we once felt died centuries ago."

Centuries? Cleo blinked.

"What does he mean by that?" The words might have almost come from her husband’s mouth, but she knew they didn’t.

Just as he knew she’d heard them. "I don't know," she said down the link. "But he's been very careful about not going into too much detail about what these people are."

"I noticed that too."

Odette gave another mocking little smile, and pushed away from Remington. "This way then. We don't conduct business out in the open, where the guests might hear."

"Guests?" Remington mused. "Is that what we're calling them these days?"

"Dinner seems a rather rude word."

Sebastian set his hand on Cleo's spine as he directed her into the parlor. Inside, the press of the allure wasn't quite as strong, but the exoticism of the place made her gaze wander. Intricate rugs lay all over the floor, and there were few chairs, merely large cushions scattered on the rugs. Sweet-smelling smoke lingered in the air. Some sort of glass device with a pipe extending from the end dwelled in the corner.

"A hookah," Sebastian said psychically.

Malachi awaited them, dragging his cravat from his throat and casting it aside. "A drink?"

"This isn't a social visit," Remington replied.

"Of course not." Malachi helped himself to the brandy, and then turned to face them. "So what is the purpose of this visit? It's not to reminisce about old times." His gaze settled on Cleo mockingly. "And it's not to bring me a gift for old times’ sake. Hmm... is it possible you want something from me?"

"You have something we need," Bishop said darkly. "Something that doesn't belong to you."