Page 74 of Soulbound

Lucien turned toward his potting station, running a hand over the marble slab. "I told you Lord Rathbourne put a sclavus collar upon me. I didn't tell you why. He demanded I raise a demon—the demon we're currently facing—and use it to destroy the Prime.

"It's the only reason I'm still alive. When I summoned Lascher—the demon— and sent it to attack Drake, it wasn't by intention. I had no choice. Drake was forced to lock me in Bedlam afterward, as the entire affair scarred my aura and my abilities to channel power, but it meant I wasn't executed."

Hell. He hadn't known that. Sebastian toyed with the timber handle on a trowel. "You still feel strong to me." He thought about it. "I'd almost say your raw sorcerous strength is greater than Bishop's."

"The amount of power I can probably wield is immense, yes, and no doubt similar to what I used to be able to hold. But my ability to channel that much power is greatly affected."

"It bothers you to be so scarred?"

"Yes, it bothers me, though not as much as it did once. I have a wife and child now. A home. To have lost a significant portion of my strength seems a small trade in hindsight." But he looked discomforted. "It bothers me most at night, when I consider what's coming. How can I protect my wife, my child, when I am only just relearning how to use my sorcery?"

Sebastian leaned against the potting counter. How could he protect Cleo when he could barely control his burgeoning powers? All along he'd been focused on overthrowing his mother, but the second he saw Cleo collapse, everything changed.

This was no longer about revenge.

It was no longer about guilt.

They would have to confront the demon at some stage. It had sworn an oath to Drake not to harm any of them, unless they made a move against it, but they couldn't leave it out there, running amok in London. It felt like no matter which way he looked, he was heading for an inexorable collision with a creature that could destroy them all. Bishop had been heading toward this collision with single-minded focus for the past month, but it was the first time he'd begun to think in tune with his brother.

The only way to protect Cleo was to face the demon.

A creature that had the power to destroy them all.

"Can we defeat it?" he asked softly.

Lucien frowned. "With the Relics, perhaps. It will take the three of us, however...."

"And you're scarred," he whispered, "and I'm untrained, and Bishop... well, Bishop can probably manage. I haven't seen anything he can't do yet."

Their eyes met.

We'll fail, he thought bleakly.

But he was done with running away from his future. Perhaps it was time to deal with the past.

And with his wife.

* * *

Cleo stirred as her bed dipped. Alarm roused, but then she came awake just enough to realize who the intruder was.

Sebastian slid beneath the covers in the dark, his weight heavy in the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Her heart beat quickly. "What are you doing in here?"

He'd never ventured into her bedchambers, and the only time they'd ever shared a bed—their wedding night—he'd finally fled to the sanctity of the trundle in his dressing room.

Sebastian sighed, as he rolled onto his side to face her. "I couldn't sleep."

She didn't have to worry whether he was wearing anything beneath the blankets. He wouldn't be unclothed. He never was.

Cleo lay back down, though how on earth he thought she was going to sleep like this, she didn't know. Her nightgown felt like a thin shield against him. Naked or not, she felt like she was. "Are you going to... sleep here?"

What a stupid question. She pressed her hands to her face. He'd been at her side all day, reclining in the armchair beside her bed every time she woke. Last night bothered him. She knew that. But it was one thing to find him at her side, another to lie beside him, with her breath coming shortly, and her body horribly aware of him.

"Do you mind?"

"No," she whispered.