Bound (6 page)

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Authors: Erica O'Rourke

BOOK: Bound
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He glanced at the poker in question, then turned back to me, eyes crinkling.
“Don’t laugh,” I warned. “I am out of my mind with wanting you, and I am done waiting. Done. Got it?”
And just to wipe the smirk off his face, I dragged off my sweater and T-shirt, the warmth of the stove a solid presence at my back. He swallowed visibly and his hands tightened on my waist. “Got it,” he said, and pulled me down to him, our bodies tangling together, his teeth scraping along my collarbone.
I tugged off his shirt, wanting to kiss away the scars along his back.
“Jeans,” I mumbled while he kissed my throat. “Off.”
“Mo ... slow down.” He paused, his breathing fast and shallow.
“Seriously? Did you not hear the part where I said I was done with waiting?” I shook my head. “You should listen better.”
“So should you. I said slow down, not stop.”
“Why? No one’s expecting me home for hours. We have all the time in the world.”
“Exactly,” he said, eyes serious, so dark they seemed bottomless, and I wanted to forget myself in them. “Why rush?”
“Oh.” I laughed then, and shoved him back onto the couch. His hands roamed over me, even better and hotter than I remembered. In a moment, he’d reversed our positions, leaning over me while I sank into the worn velvet of the couch. I shimmied out of my jeans, and he groaned.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” he said, trapping my hands above my head easily.
“Noted,” I said, trying to wriggle away. “No sleeping.”
“I mean I’m not having sex with you.”
“Really? Because ...” I arched against him and smiled when his eyes drifted shut. “I’m not saying I’m an expert, but that kind of seems like the direction we’re heading.”
He kept my wrists pinned with one hand and held my hip with the other, putting too much distance between us. “How many guys have you slept with?”
“That’s kind of a personal question.”
“Considering how much clothing you’re wearing and where my hands have been, I think we’ve reached the stage where we can ask personal questions.”
I felt a flush spread over my body. “How many girls have you slept with?”
His fingers stilled on my hip. “Enough to know what I’m doing.”
“And you think I don’t?” I yanked a hand free and flipped open the button of his jeans.
He kissed me, mouth open and searching, and I whimpered, trying to press myself closer.
“How many?” he asked again.
I scowled at him. “Why does it matter?”
“None, right?”
I twisted away, wrenching out of his grasp. I might not have had much experience with guys, but this was definitely not how it was supposed to go.
“I told you before, Mo. I don’t want to be the guy you sleep with and then keep a secret.”
“So I should shout it from the rooftops?”
“I would prefer you didn’t,” he said. “And I’d rather not have your first time be on my couch.”
“You have a bedroom,” I said. “If that’s the problem... .”
“That’s not the problem, and you know it. It’s a big deal. It should be special. Not an impulse thing. It doesn’t work so good that way.”
“You know what’s not going to work? If you’re a condescending jerk,” I snapped.
“I’m not saying we can’t do anything, Mo. Just not ... that. Not yet. It’s illegal,” he pointed out reasonably.
“I’m eighteen in three months.”
“Great. In three months, we can do this again, and I won’t stop you. But for now ... no.”
I huffed out a breath, partly out of frustration and partly to see how his eyes tracked the movement. “Three months is a really long time.”
He grinned. “We’ll manage.” His hand slid down my body, and his mouth followed, and as I felt myself go completely weightless underneath him, I decided he might be right.
C
HAPTER
8
I
missed dinner entirely. By the time Colin dropped me at home, the house was silent. I could see the silhouette of my mom in the upstairs window, getting ready for bed. I eased open the door and punched in the alarm code. The kitchen was dark, and I crept across, grateful I would be spared an interrogation until the morning.
“Where have you been?” my father asked.
I jumped, but managed not to shriek. “Jesus, Dad!”
“I asked you a question.” He stood in the basement doorway—not a big man, but managing to fill it all the same.
“I called Mom,” I said defensively. “I had dinner with Colin.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night. No one eats that late.”
I gestured to my messenger bag. “Homework. I’m not grounded, you know. I’m in before curfew. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He snorted. “Please, Mo. If you’re going to lie to my face, put a little more effort into it.”
I froze. He might suspect, but he didn’t know. Skin didn’t show fingerprints. And he hadn’t been around enough to figure out when I was lying.
“Good night,” I said, brushing past him on my way up the stairs.
“About today,” he called after me. “The police, at the bar. It’s not what you think.”
I paused, glancing at him over the banister. “Tell you what, Dad. How about you stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours. That seems like a fair trade, doesn’t it? And neither of us has to lie.”
He dragged a hand over his face, looking exhausted. “I’m trying, Mo. It’s not easy, but I’m trying to be a better man.”
“Good luck with that.”
 
Three hours later, I jolted awake to the sound of the world splitting open and a hand clamping roughly over my mouth, cutting off my scream before it began.
An instant later, the lamp next to my bed switched itself on, revealing Luc. His eyes were bright and hard, like emeralds. I sank back, pulling the quilt up to my chest. There was no hiding from Luc, though. Even the magic seemed cowed by his temper. After a moment, he pulled his hand away from my mouth, clamping it around my wrist instead. I felt the lines swell, cloaking us so that my parents wouldn’t wake up.
“Niobe told you.”
“Better.” Our binding crackled with his fury, but his voice was brutally calm. “Dominic. Loved every second of it, too. Came waltzin’ into the Dauphine with a full complement of guards, tellin’ me you’d been attacked, askin’ how I hadn’t known that
the girl I’m bound to
was in mortal danger.”
“I was fine. And Niobe said you knew.” But it must have hurt him, to hear it secondhand—and I could only imagine how much his father had enjoyed delivering the news in the most humiliating way possible—punishing Luc for daring to put me ahead of the Quartoren’s needs.
“Because
Dominic
told me. You promised to summon me if there was trouble, and three days later, you’re breakin’ your word. Makes a man lose faith. And then I can’t get a moment alone with you, between school and your family and whatever the hell you were doin’ at Cujo’s tonight.”
“I told you not to spy on me.”
“It ain’t spying if you jump the man in broad daylight,” he said, and my cheeks burned.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you about Anton.”
He dragged his free hand through his hair. “Damn straight. Remember when I first met you? You were all about findin’ out the truth. Couldn’t stand bein’ lied to. It was the one thing you couldn’t forgive. Now look at you—there’s not a single person you’re straight with.”
“I didn’t lie to you! Niobe said ...”
“Niobe said you saw Anton at the party. That’s what you felt, wasn’t it? Not just the lines.
Anton.
And you kept it from me.”
“I thought I imagined it. What was the point worrying you over nothing?”
He laughed bitterly, and I flinched. “Nothing? You’re my heart, Mouse. You’re my fate. I don’t care if you don’t like it, if you love someone else, if you’re going to run from me till you’ve circled the earth. You’re not nothing. Not to me. And if Anton is coming after you now, I am your best shot at staying alive.”
“I’m sorry.” But this apology was bigger. It was about more than Anton, or keeping things from Luc. It was an apology for not being the girl he wanted me to be. The one he needed me to be. Fate guided him like a touchstone, but I turned away from it, determined to find my own path. We were bound—magically, irrevocably tied to each other—and yet I’d chosen Colin and a life with the Flats over the one we were supposed to have together, leaving Luc to deal with the fallout. It had hurt him so terribly. Sometimes, I thought it had hurt me, too, in ways I couldn’t quite understand. But I couldn’t let him see me waver. Couldn’t open the door to regret. Because the moment I did, it would ruin everything I’d fought for.
“The Quartoren want to see you.”
“I don’t want to see them.”
He sat down next to me, and I shifted to give him more room. “They don’t much care. If it was only your life at stake, they’d stay out of it. But it’s the magic, too, and they’ve got a responsibility to their people.” He waited a beat. “To my people, Mouse. Something happens to you, to the magic.... They all suffer. I can’t let that happen.” His grip on my wrist loosened, and he rubbed a thumb over the scar on my palm. “Don’t think you can, either.”
You had to hand it to Luc—he knew exactly which buttons to push. It was one thing to spite the Quartoren, who had proven they cared nothing about me. It was another to walk away from the well-being of an entire society.
“I need to get dressed,” I said, climbing out of the bed.
He sighed and flopped back, pulling one of the pillows over his face.
I changed quickly, pulling on jeans and a long cardigan over my T-shirt. I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye.
“You’re peeking.”
“Can’t blame a man for tryin’.” He tossed the pillow aside, unrepentant, and rolled out of bed with a languid, catlike grace that made me feel clumsy standing still. “All set?”
“No.”
He laughed as we went Between.
C
HAPTER
9
W
e came through in a familiar white, high-ceilinged room, the thunderclap sound of going Between echoing off the walls. I breathed in the scent of beeswax from the candles overhead, steadying myself. It was no longer dangerous for me to go Between. Now that I’d bonded with the magic, the only side effect was dizziness, instead of feeling as though my internal organs had been rearranged. Even so, it took a minute to orient myself.
Luc kept a hand on my waist, the other curving over my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” When his eyebrows lifted, skeptical, I shrugged. “I’m fine. It’s different now.”
He let go of me grudgingly as the doors to the main chamber opened.
“Mo!” exclaimed Marguerite. “Welcome back, my dear.”
She nodded at the guard standing next to her—an Arc I didn’t recognize, who melted back into the shadowy room. Luc’s mother was blind, though she moved with such innate grace, it was easy to forget. Small and lovely, she barely came to Luc’s shoulder as he guided her forward. I caught the faintest wisp of freesia as she embraced me.
“Your father’s inside,” she said to Luc, her hand on my arm. “And in a temper. Did you have words before you left?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing new.”
She sighed. “I suppose it’s good that someone stands up to that man. I certainly can’t.”
Luc allowed himself the slightest smile. “You don’t need to stand up to him,
Maman.
He’s always fallin’ at your feet.”
“Go on, now,” she said with a shooing motion, a pleased blush tinting her cheeks. I suspected Luc was absolutely right. Dominic might be the Patriarch of the House, but Marguerite was head of the family. “Tell him we’ll be along in a minute. And to mind his manners when we get there.”
“As if he’ll listen,” Luc grumbled.
I liked watching the easy, obvious affection between them, the way Luc seemed to forget about his responsibilities and the weight of his position. It was a side of him I rarely saw, and unexpectedly sweet.
“Son,” she called, and he paused to glance at us over his shoulder. “You mind your manners, too.”
“Yes’m,” he said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
When he’d left, she turned to me again. “It is so good to have you here, Mo. I’ve wondered how you’ve been getting on.”
It should have been easier to lie to Marguerite, since she couldn’t see my expression. But I didn’t even try. “I’m scared.”
“Of course you are. Anyone with an ounce of sense would be scared. Rivening’s a terrible thing, and for that alone Anton Renard should be drawn and quartered.” She sniffed, adjusted the cashmere wrap around her shoulders. “I was referring to the magic, though. Are the two of you ... adjusting?”
The two of us.
Marguerite knew. I’d wondered, after our last encounter, if she realized what had happened, if she’d guessed at the true nature of the magic. Clearly, she had. And just as clearly, she hadn’t said anything to Luc. I wondered why—and if it meant I was right to keep quiet.
“I’m getting there. It’s kind of a gradual process.”
“I would imagine. You haven’t told Luc.”
“No.” How to tell Marguerite that, even after he’d risked his life for me, I didn’t know where Luc’s loyalties lay. If he sided with the Quartoren, I couldn’t trust him. If he sided with me ... it would mean something I wasn’t capable of handling. Safer to keep the truth hidden, at least for now.
“Your fear is understandable,” Marguerite said. “And you’re right to guard such a powerful secret. But you’ll tell him eventually.”
I swallowed. She wasn’t asking me—she was telling. “When?”
“That’s for you to decide.” She paused. “I can’t see everything, you know. Only slivers of the future, taken out of context.”
“That must ...” Suck, I wanted to say. “Be difficult.”
“It’s better that way, actually. I knew I’d have Luc. Can you imagine my surprise? All that time, his brother practically grown. And suddenly, I saw another son, years before he appeared. If I’d known the fullness of what would happen, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. Might have resented him, even, and that would have been a terrible thing.”
“I don’t understand.” Luc had a brother, I remembered, but he’d died. Luc never talked about it. The loss must have devastated Marguerite, but I couldn’t imagine why she would have resented her only remaining child.
“Luc’s lost so much already. He carries burdens I can’t begin to fathom. But I know what I’ve seen, Mo. All of the prophecies are clear—your fate and his are tied so tightly, more than anyone realizes. Like you and the magic, in some ways. If you hold back the truth from him, you’ll both be hurt.” She touched her hair, tucking a stray wisp back into its elaborate twist. “I know you don’t want to leave your Flat life behind, but you are meant for so much more.”
“That was Verity, not me.” The old hurt surfaced again. The pain of losing Verity, and of knowing I couldn’t measure up. The fatigue of fighting against a force I didn’t even believe in.
“This is more than a single prophecy. It’s a chance to shape the future of our world. Verity was never called for such a task. Only you.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I said softly.
“Become what you’re meant to. There’s no heavier charge, but it can’t be helped.” She smiled regretfully. “And I’d ask you to do a kindness for me, as well.”
“Anything.” Marguerite had been nothing but kind to me. I was eager to return the favor.
“Help Luc. He needs to see that becoming his own man is just as important as any destiny he’s taken on.”
I’d given so much thought to what the Arcs considered my destiny, I rarely thought about Luc’s. But his future had been laid out in prophecies as well—his place as the Heir, bound to me, charged with saving the magic and stopping the Ascendency. I wondered what sort of life he would have chosen, left to his own devices. He’d probably never considered the possibility.
“He won’t believe that, coming from me.” Not when I’d railed against the idea of destiny all along.
“Oh, Mo. You’re the only one he will believe.” She stood. “Come. I imagine Dominic is near to bursting, we’ve kept him so long.”
I guided her toward the doors Luc had gone through, massive metal slabs, and she reached out, rapping five times in quick succession. The metal glowed where she’d struck it, and the doors swung open.
Inside was the Assembly, the seat of the Quartoren. I’d been here before, to sign the Covenant that protected Constance. Like before, it was empty, the rows of seats reaching upward. But my attention was riveted on the group clustered onstage, seated at a massive black table that nearly vibrated with power.
Luc met us halfway down the aisle. “Good chat?”
Marguerite smacked him lightly on the arm. “Don’t pry, son.”
He guided her to a chair along the side of the stage as I approached the Quartoren, my smile falling away.
“Maura,” said Dominic coolly. He didn’t rise from the table. Luc’s father was a broad-shouldered man with mahogany skin, narrowed eyes, and an air of unmistakable command. Patriarch of the Fire Arcs, he was the strongest of the Quartoren, and the one I trusted the least.
“Dominic.” I inclined my head. It came across as a gesture of respect, but really I wanted to see the symbols shifting along the table in front of me. If I squinted, I could almost bring them into focus enough to read. But like letters in a dream, they wiggled away just as I started to understand. They were the language of the magic, I’d been told once. My nerves tingled as the source strained to connect with them, like calling to like.
“What do they say?” I asked as Luc rejoined me, fingertips brushing the back of my hand.
“I don’t see why you’d need to know.” Orla, Matriarch of the Air Arcs and the lone woman of the Quartoren, sniffed. She was old and plump, fussy about protocol, and absolutely despised me. She frowned as we neared the dais. Of the three Arcs in front of me, she was the least dangerous—her hostility was out in the open, and easiest to defend against.
“It’s the language of the magic in its purest state. The symbols form the charter of our people. They delineate the Houses, and by extension, the Quartoren,” Pascal said, giving her a quelling glance. “No Arc can speak it perfectly, but these are the original words of power. Everything else is a distortion, no matter how slight.”
As always, Pascal stood off to the side. His face brightened, studying me with undisguised curiosity. He was the scientist of the group. According to Luc, no one knew more about how the magic worked than Pascal. I’d always gotten the sense he viewed me as a particularly fascinating experiment, which was unnerving, but kind of a relief. He left the subterfuge and manipulation to Dominic. It was one less battle to fight, and I’d come to view every interaction with the Quartoren as a skirmish.
“We’re not here to discuss spellcasting,” Dominic said.
I folded my arms. “Why
are
we here? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Anton managed to elude us this afternoon,” Dominic said. You could almost hear him grinding his teeth at the admission, and he straightened the lapels of his suit. “Seems likely he’ll try for you again. You need protection.”
I scoffed. “Like I’d trust you guys to protect me.”
Orla puffed up like a outraged pigeon. “Do you think we’re asking your permission?”
The Quartoren didn’t ask permission of anyone—especially not a lowly Flat.
“I don’t need protection. I need a way to fight them.”
“Happy to show you some hand-to-hand,” Luc said.
I rolled my eyes at him.
Dominic nodded approval. “Not a bad idea. There are other steps we can take as well. But the fact is, you need us.”
“And you expect something in return, of course. Are you offering another Covenant? Because I’d rather take my chances with the Seraphim.”
“We’ll protect you no matter what, because it’s what our people require,” said Orla. “Whatever else you think of us, you know our Houses are our first concern.”
Pascal spoke, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Be logical, Maura. The Seraphim are aware that you and the magic are interdependent. Anton’s willingness to hurt you signals he’s willing to hurt the magic, too. It’s only reasonable to conclude that his goal is to use the connection between you to trigger the Ascendency. He’ll continue to attack you until the magic is weak enough to do so.”
Understanding flashed through me, and as it did, the magic reared up in alarm, streaming through the lines like a broken levee. The symbols carved into the table before me glowed and trembled, light beaming out from them. Orla gasped, stumbling backward, and Luc thrust me behind him.
“It’s okay.” I dropped to my knees, dizzy. Luc sank down next to me, his body a shield, his arms caging me in. “It’s okay,” I repeated, and concentrated on calming myself, calming the magic, slowing my breathing and the rush of blood through my veins.
Gradually, the terrible brilliance dimmed. My heartbeat eased. The room came back into focus, and the first thing I saw was Luc, eyes roving over me, his hands gently cradling my face.
“Mouse? You hurt?”
Our connection trembled, and I laid a hand over his. “Everything’s fine.” I didn’t know if the words were for him or for the magic, one last bit of reassurance. “What about you?”
“Never seen that before,” he said, brushing away my concern. “What was it?”
“Maura felt threatened,” Pascal said from behind the table. He rested a hand on the blackened wood. “And the fear triggered a reaction from the magic, likely as a result of the bond you’ve formed.”
I glanced at Marguerite, who remained in her chair, hands calmly folded in her lap. She tipped her head toward the sound of Luc’s voice, the gesture a message. Luc needed to know, but not the Quartoren. Now wasn’t the time.
It was strategy, not cowardice. That’s what I told myself.
Luc’s grip on my shoulders was firm, as if he could divine the truth just by holding on long enough, and I shrugged away, directing my words to Pascal. “You’re the expert.”
“We need your help,” Dominic said, clearly loathe to ask. “You know what’s at stake here.”
I did, even more than Dominic realized. But knowing the stakes didn’t change the facts—I was still powerless.
“How could I possibly help you?” The bravado I’d shown Anton at school was a bluff. If the Seraphim attacked, I’d be helpless—whether it came in the form of Rivening or Darklings or something entirely different.
“Come to the Succession,” Dominic said. “You’re a member of the House, by virtue of being the Vessel, so you’ve got a right to attend.”
“I’m the reason they
need
a Succession,” I pointed out. “Everyone knows I killed the last Matriarch, thanks to Anton’s display at the Allée. Somehow, I don’t think the Water Arcs are going to throw me a welcome party.”
“Actually,” said Orla, “the events of that night are not common knowledge. While you’ve been off taking tests and carting drinks around a pub, we’ve spent the last few months ensuring that our people know it was you who stopped the Torrent and repaired the breach in the magic. Anton’s followers blame you, of course, but many people are appreciative of what you’ve done. And many are still loyal to the Quartoren.”

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