Page 53 of Soulbound

He let his voice drop to a whisper. "If you know anything, you would be wise to mention it before you try my patience. There are people inside whom I care about. I wouldn't like to see anything happen to them. Indeed, if something were to happen to them and I thought you knew anything about it—"

He let his power spill through his fingers, controlling the sorcerous weaves with ease. Ice was his natural inclination, and the first element he'd ever controlled. Lady Beaumont choked as he froze the inside of her throat, her eyes popping wide in disbelief.

Sharp nails raked his hand, and she clutched at it, her chest heaving. Sebastian held the weft of power for another three seconds, before letting it vanish.

He turned away from her as she slumped, a hacking cough tearing through her slim frame. The thin glove he wore couldn't seem to check the touch of her skin. He stripped it off, casting it aside, but he still felt dirty.

"Do you have anything to tell me?" he asked, turning around to survey her.

There was blood on her lips. She'd bitten her tongue, and she smiled at him with bloodied teeth. "I hope your mother is working against you. Perhaps I'll even look her up, and see if she'll offer me your leash for the night, once she brings you to heel again. Or maybe a month." Lady Beaumont licked her lips. "Breaking you would be almost enough incentive for a girl like me to do something foolish...."

He took a menacing step toward her.

"Ah, Sebastian, there you are," called a firm voice.

He came back to himself, staring down at her, every muscle in his body locked tight. Her mocking laughter grated across his nerves as he tilted his head to watch Lucien saunter along the terrace.

His half brother looked relaxed, with hands in pockets, and a loose step, but his amber eyes locked on the pair of them. "Lady Beaumont, what a surprise to see you out here."

"Oh, please," she said coyly, dropping one shoulder. "Call me Julia."

"We missed you inside during the receiving line," Lucien said, still smiling that faint, graceful smile, though his eyes sharpened in a predatory manner. "You must go congratulate my wife on her Ascension. Before she thinks you've slighted her."

She'd lied about meeting the Prime. Sebastian turned toward her swiftly.

Lady Beaumont's smile froze. "Of course. I... must have missed her in the crush."

"Ianthe has quite a temper," Lucien said fondly. "Perhaps you should go now, before it has time to brew."

"An excellent suggestion, my lord." She glanced coquettishly at Sebastian. "It was lovely to see you again. I've missed you, darling. Until we meet again...."

"We won't."

Lady Beaumont merely smiled, as if to tell him he was deluding himself, and then she slid her greedy little hand over Lucien's sleeve.

Over. It was over. Sebastian turned away as Lucien hastened her inside, with firm instructions for the footman to deliver her to the Prime.

He strode down the stairs, into the garden. He couldn't go back in there.

Stalking through the gardens mindlessly, he found a small clearing where the moonlight streamed down upon him. It was nothing like Malachi Gray's estate, but he touched one of the pruned rosebushes, stroking the bare branches. Channeling his power into the plant, he forced a flower to form, its lush petals tightly budded and pale. Another lash of sorcery, and those petals opened like the twirl of a lady’s skirt, color staining them and darkening as he let his magic surge.

A red rose.

Plucking it from the bush, he pressed it to his nose, thinking of Cleo. The tight band around his chest eased somewhat, as the sweet perfume filled him.

It took him a long time to realize he wasn't alone. Lucien had returned with two glasses of champagne, his shoes slowly crunching on the gravel path.

"Shouldn't you be inside?" he asked flatly, lowering the rose.

Lucien handed one of his champagne flutes to Sebastian. "Here."

Everything he'd been holding inside him burst out, sending chills all across his skin. He gripped the champagne flute, turning and staring blindly into the garden. A thorn pricked his finger, and it was almost the only thing holding him together. "I think I should take a carriage back to Bishop's."

"You have rooms here for the night," Lucien said.

"I don't think I would be very good company." He turned away.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Bile soured his mouth—that Lucien should see him like this—but he didn't force him to remove his hand.