29. Evandriel
EVANDRIEL
A whoosh of air punches out of my soulbound’s lungs as she runs face-first into my chest. Her expression swiftly shifts from one of shock to disbelief—then anger. “Seriously, what the fuck do you want?!”
My lip curls. “You stole from those children.”
She rolls her eyes at me as one would a petulant child as she tries to sidestep me. “Typical.”
“I beg your pardon.”
The female has the audacity to clutch her nonexistent pearls and put on a face that matches her mockingly haughty voice. “Oh, I beg your pardon.”
She then proceeds to shove me out of the way with shocking strength that sends my large frame stumbling backwards. “Fuck off, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou. I’ve got shit to steal, people to pay, and a guillotine to avoid.”
Despite all her venom, her words have my hackles rising for an entirely new reason. People to pay? Guillotine? What mess has this female gotten herself into, and why-the-fuck do I feel the need to make it my problem?
Blasted soulbond.
With a growl, I trot forward to catch up with her, feeling Sariel and Elowen at my back. But before I can reach her, she lunges for me. In the blink of an eye, she has me pressed against the stone wall of the alleyway and a blade at my throat.
Her eyes are narrowed as sharply as the tip of her dagger as she speaks to me through gritted teeth.
“Why are you following me?”
How twisted is it that fate would have the bond between us awaken and give us its first pulsing flare as she threatens my life. It’s promptly followed by a tingling shiver of arousal licking up my spine at the sensation of her body pressing against mine.
And from the look on her face, she can feel it too.
Only in my weakest and most desperate moments had I sought or accepted the touch of another in the ten years since Ffion passed. And never did it feel anything like this.
I hate it.
I vowed to find Ffion, and now the mere presence of this blasted female is threatening to upend all of my plans! Ten years! Ten years of pinning and hoping and longing—of trusting in Ffion’s words that we would meet again.
Gods damn it.
With a snarl and more force than I intend, I rend the blade from her hand, twisting her arm behind her back and thrust her against the wall.
“Help us, and maybe we’ll help you, thief.”
She chuckles, her body completely at ease—as if she’s been in this position a thousand times before. It’s a wretchedly worrisome thought.
“I’m all ears…”
Well… I wasn’t expecting her to be nearly so receptive.
“Soulbound .”
She enunciates the word as though spitting out a wad of sarcasm.
Hearing her affirm it aloud has my jaw clenching hard enough to crack a nut.
Shell, you pervert.
And no matter who she is to me, I’m definitely not naive enough to trust her with our precarious predicament—lest she use it against us. I have no doubt she would.
I hum thoughtfully, and it comes out more like a purr of pleasure that I have to force away by changing it to a growl. I sound entirely unwell.
From where the thief’s face is smooshed sideways against the wall, I can see one of her brows hike up as if she knows exactly what just happened.
A knowing, feline grin curls the corners of her lips. She then proceeds to wiggle her daemonic, wanton hips right against the rigid length of my cock pinned against my thigh.
The seductress lowers her voice to a husky purr.
“Ooooh, hello there. What’s your name, big boy?”
My grip on her tightens as a real growl rumbles from me, and I angle my hips away from her surprisingly soft but firm flesh.
“Stop that, wench.”
She cackles, ignoring me entirely, to jut her hips out, wedging her thick ass cheeks right on either side of my cock, and wiggles some more. “Wench? Which pirate ship did you just step off of?”
The sensation tears a snarl from my throat, even as my cock fully hardens to the point of pain, and my balls ache with the need to release.
“Gods damn it, female. Remove your hindquarters from my cock at once or so help me Akash…”
She seems to take pity upon the pain in my voice, suddenly taking me seriously. My eyes dip to where the delicate column of her throat works. “Alright, sorry… I thought…”
She seems to hesitate on the words. On the obvious.
That we are soulbound and we should sacrifice all our life’s plans for being given the gift of one another. That I should be one thousand percent on board with filling every wet hole my soulbound possesses with my seed. Fill her belly with my offspring. Fuck her, claim her, mark ? —
“So what is it you want? Tick-fucking-tok, Seraphi. Guillotine, remember?”
Her words are a slap to my recalcitrant thoughts, and Ffion’s words return to me once more.
“… and through all your subsequent acts of goodness, you will be led to a fate far more beautiful—and filled with family and love—than you would have ever imagined. It is then that we will meet again.”
Going purely on intuition—and this bizarre, newfound, instinctual need—the question pops out of me without further thought.
“Tell me about this so-called guillotine and what do you need to avoid it?”
Her brows pinch. “It’s not a so-called guillotine. It’s an actual guillotine. And why do you care?”
I don’t bother to give her a response. She already knows the answer. Heaving a sigh, she relents.
“It’s a long story, and it’s too late to matter. Unless you’ve got 300,000 sovereigns, what I need— above all else—is to find a way to escape this pretty hell and a fresh start.”
I glance over my shoulder to where Elowen and Sariel stand across the alleyway, enjoying the theatrics. I squeeze my eyes shut as I am forced to experience the last ten years of hoping and planning are tossed right out the window like a fucking chamber pot.
“It is then we will meet again.”
It feels like Ffion herself is whispering the words in my ear.
Still, I have to force the words out through clenched teeth.
“I can help with that.”
I release my soulbound’s wrists, and a pang of guilt goes through me as she absently rubs them, and turns to face me, her expression slackened with shock even as her brows pinch with disbelief. “The 300,000 or my escape?”
“We can take you with us. To Atratus.”
Her eyes shift from mine to land on Sariel and Elowen. “Interesting company you’re keeping. Where is that exactly?”
I don’t actually have that answer, but I doubt admitting that would instill any trust in her. So I just shrug. “Does it really matter?”
My heart cracks a little as I take in the all-too-familiar, haunted look of despair darkening her eyes. “Will we be safe?”
We.
The ache in my chest burns anew at that singular word. We. How long have I yearned for there to truly be a we.
For being a thief, she’s awfully trusting, and that alone is enough to have my protective instincts rearing up. Fuck me. Elowen was right.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
She hesitates—all of her earlier bravado gone—and I’m left to witness all the vulnerability underneath. The bond between us throbs with the need to replace it with safety and reassurance.
Eventually, she nods. “Come with me then.”