Page 76 of Soulbound

"I can't promise that." Sebastian stirred, but she rolled back into his embrace, her spine meeting his chest as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "I won't promise that, because I don't know if I could keep such a promise if your life was on the line."

She couldn't see his face in the dark, only the sharp outline of his nose, and the slope of his brow.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

The shadowy shape of his face dipped toward hers, but only to rest near her shoulder. For a second.... She quenched her sudden hope, toying with the sheets.

"I keep thinking Morgana can't hurt me anymore," he admitted. "But the truth is... she can." His hand curled tightly over her hip, as if he sought to reassure himself. "She knows you're my weakness, Cleo. And seeing you there, the only thing standing between her and me.... And I couldn't move in time, I couldn't do anything.... That moment was the longest moment of my life. I thought she was going to kill you, and then all of a sudden you warded."

Cleo relaxed into the blankets. "You were worried about me."

"Of course I was," he suddenly growled. "Do you think I don't care about you?"

She had no answer to that. "I know you care. You would never have traded yourself in my place when your mother kidnapped me, if you hadn't."

"But...?"

But.

"You've been distant," she whispered quietly. "You never wrote me back, you never visited, and you were never 'at home' when I called."

Frustration echoed in his throat in a sound that was purely primeval. "I couldn't handle the thought of you. Not on top of... of Drake's sacrifice." He shuddered. "I had my freedom, finally. But at such a cost. I didn't know what to do. I didn't deserve freedom. Not like that." His voice broke. "I didn't deserve you."

Oh.

She stroked her fingers down his arm gently, her mind reeling. "You fool. You deserve more than you can ever know. Your father sacrificed himself because he loves you." She bit down on the words that wanted to come next, trying to rearrange them carefully. He wasn't ready for them. And nor was she ready to speak them. "And you're more than deserving of my affections. I thought you didn't want them."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking his hand down her side so faintly she barely felt the ripple of her nightgown. "I'm trying."

Silence fell, but this one was full of a thousand unspoken words. Her heart swelled, and she felt the first soft stirrings of hope, along with a flush of heat behind her eyes. All she'd ever wanted was for Sebastian to try to love her.

His questing hand became firmer, stirring her nightgown now. Cleo sucked in a sharp breath, her fist clenching with need. She didn't dare touch him, especially in the wake of such momentous words.

But their first true kiss sprang to mind, the heat of his body pressing against hers. This was a purer longing, untainted by the incubus's touch, and somehow far more painful. Sweet torture.

For she didn't know if he would take another step down this fated path.

"I want you," Sebastian murmured into the stillness of the night. "I want you so badly I ache, but to take this step scares the hell out of me." His voice became very small. "I've never made love to a woman. I don't know if I'd even know how to begin."

Her heart broke a little. She hadn't known. "I wish you'd told me."

A shudder went through that hard body. "I've never been very good with words."

She thought she understood. It wasn't his words that failed him, but the emotions behind them. Sebastian had never known love, nor kindness, nor true friendship. She'd been mired in doubt, thinking of her own inadequacies, thinking them the reason for his distance.

And she'd been horribly wrong.

Cleo held her breath. Did she dare? "Then show me."

Lips grazed the back of her neck. Little goose pimples erupted all over her body. Cleo gasped, holding a fistful of the sheet for dear life. She couldn't see a thing. Her world narrowed down to the rasp of his stubble against her nape, and those soft lips, so tender, barely brushing against her skin....

The wet tip of his tongue traced the hardened nubbin of her spine. Oh, mercy. Mother of night. Cleo sucked in a sharp gasp.

And then his fingers stirred, tracing small circles on her shoulder. "Sometimes I cannot bear to be touched, but it's growing easier with every kiss. Easier to forget, easier to remind myself I'm with you, and not trapped beneath someone else. If we could take it slowly...."

What was he trying to say?

"Would you let me?" he whispered. "Let me try to make love to you?"