Page 72 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

Before another round, I needed to get out of my dress. The yards of beautiful fabric were starting to feel stifling and unpleasantly sweaty. I managed to get out of the bed, which was kind of a feat given how wobbly my legs felt. Gabriel grunted in displeasure but perked up when I took off the mantle. I turned away from him, showing him how far down the fabric dipped on my back. I’d always felt a little silly when I tried to be sexy undressing in the past, but being with Gabriel made it feel natural. It wasn’t about putting on a show. Gabriel wasn’t turned on by the performance, he was turned on by me. I could feel his eyes on me as I slowly undid the ribbon around my neck. I let the dress fall, sliding down my body fluidly to hit the floor with a silken sigh.

Give him a second, I thought. Let him wonder where those runes might be.

I counted to three before I turned back to Gabriel. He was staring at me like a starving man at a feast: desperate, hungry, and ready to kill to protect what was his.

“Come here,” he rasped.

I cocked my head to the side. “What’s the magic word?”

Gabriel looked as though he desperately wanted to give me an unimpressed look, but was unfortunately too impressed to do so. “Please.”

“As soon as you stop wearing so many clothes.”

Gabriel definitely was faster now. He moved so quickly I barely saw him, and then his clothes were in a heap on the floor. Painted runes covered his chest and shoulders, moving all the way down. The gold paint stood out beautifully against his olive skin. I stepped forward and touched the rune that marked his pectoral. Gabriel shivered. The frantic, animalistic need was satiated for now, but the air was still thick with tension. As I traced the rune, the paint smudged beneath my fingers.

“That means the ceremony’s actually done now,” I said. “They’ll stop glowing and getting warm. And it worked, obviously. Only the bondmate can remove the other’s markings.”

Gabriel reached out and grabbed my thigh. He dragged his hand up and over the curve of my hip and the dip of my waist, each touch getting gentler as he went. It was featherlight by the time he reached my chest, teasing fingertips over the runes on my breast that smeared the paint. The golden cracks on my chest were still there, but they seemed flatter now, and when Gabriel touched them, they smeared just like the runes, leaving pale, unblemished skin behind.

I was dizzy with relief, happiness, and sheer arousal. When Gabriel tugged me back into the bed, I went eagerly, settling on his lap and rocking against him. Soon, we would have to save magic, but right now, we had all the time in the world.

25

GABRIEL

Iwoke still smeared with gold, and every muscle ached delightfully. Evangeline was cradled in my arms, her head pillowed against my chest, her hair making an active effort to invade my face. It was probably for the best that I didn’t need to breathe because she’d have smothered me otherwise.

It was still very early. The sun was barely up, the light outside watery and timid as it crept across the trees. I stroked Evangeline’s hair, both because she liked it and in an attempt to contain it. She stirred a little, nuzzling into the touch.

“G’da g’dup?” she grumbled.

“No, you don’t need to get up. Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay,” she muttered, then rubbed her fac against my chest like a cat getting comfortable.

I stroked her back as I stared up at the ceiling, a strange sense of surrealness having settled over me. Yesterday had become a frenzy as soon as the ritual was mentioned, and now I was free to bask in its aftereffects, however briefly. Evangeline and I were bonded, our souls intertwined. I held my hand up to the weak morning light and examined the smudged remnants of the runes on my arm. Those on my hand had been completely smeared away after our combined efforts last night, but down my forearm I could still make out a row of sigils that matched the ones inked onto Evangeline.

A strange spike of regret that the markings were temporary speared through me. It was unfair of me to wish another mark onto Evangeline. Her body already showed too many reminders of what she’d been through: the binding tattoo on her arm, the line of the scar that had vivisected it, the pale ridge of a scar where my father’s curse knife had struck her in the chest—all reminders of the things people had done to her.

I wasn’t entirely free of those reminders myself. The De Montclair clan tattoo across my back attested to that. Perhaps someday I would ask Evangeline about a magically neutral version of the marks of our bonding and get those inked onto my skin. Not a reminder of my love for her, because I didn’t need reminding. A token of my devotion, and a reminder of the joy I could find when I gave myself the freedom to pursue it.

Evangeline was dreaming.

I frowned. How did I know she was dreaming? She was still breathing evenly, her expression unchanged, but I was absolutely certain of it. I cleared my mind, and that certainty grew. A quiet hum of confusion and amusement came from her, tinged with frustration. I wasn’t intentionally reaching out to her mind, and the impression was more distant, but its presence undeniable. Her magic burned inside me, although the wild, roaring nature of it had banked down to embers.

Evangeline’s dream started to shift. Her frustration increased, and the acrid tang of fear joined it. I moved her gently, rocking her until her eyes fluttered open. She was facing the window, the rising sun catching on her lashes, highlighting her freckles, making her look impossibly delicate. Unfortunately, that illuminating sunbeam was squarely in her eyes, so as soon as she opened them, she scrunched her whole face up in bleary anger. She looked like she was going to curse the sun out of existence for irritating her.

God, I loved this woman more than life itself.

“Good morning,” I said.

“G’mrn’ng,” she replied, then yawned. I held my hand up to keep the sun out of her eyes, and her face smoothed. “Oh, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. How do you feel?”

“Happy ’n’ well-fucked,” Evangeline mumbled.

“I’m glad to hear that, but I meant in terms of your magic,” I told her dryly.

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