“Perhaps they’ll banish me from ever attending another function,” Eliza said hopefully. And then she touched his arm. “It is good to see you again, Sin. It’s been too long.” Months, in fact.
When he’d first introduced himself to her, he’d called himself “Sinjin.” Or that’s what she’d heard him say, yet most of their acquaintances called him Sin. Later he’d explained that the English pronounced the name St. John as Sinjin. Thus, his friends and family called him Sin. An apt nickname, for he was constantly seeking out some form of mischief.
“English society is a bore,” Sin answered now. “If it were up to me, I’d be rid of it completely.”
“I’d hardly call the fast crowd that runs with Mab proper society.” Eliza thought of the disturbing dinner Mab has hosted last night. “In truth, I’m fairly certain you could do anything in her house and she’d not turn a hair.”
At her snide tone, Sin’s green gaze searched her face. “What troubles you, cousin?”
In a distant way, they were cousins, his grandmother being first cousin to her grandfather. Only she’d grown up in Boston, and he in Ireland.
She edged closer, hesitation warring with a need to confide in the only person she trusted. “I saw him.”
Sin, along with Will Thorne, had been the one to rescue Eliza from Adam. Instantly Sin’s nostrils flared. “Did he come after you?” He looked around the sunny garden as if expecting Adam to jump from the hedgerow and attack.
“No, nothing like that,” she assured. “He cannot harm me. He’s injured. In fact he’s —”
“Stop,” insisted Sin. “Don’t say another word.” Sin’s skin took on a pasty hue. “Not until I explain one thing.” On unsteady feet, he came closer. “I’m bound, by a vow, to tell Mab if there is a danger of you consorting with Adam.”
“What?” Eliza’s voice rose too high, she knew. A few heads turned, censorious frowns shooting her way. Sin hissed his displeasure, and Eliza struggled to temper her tone. “Why? And what do you mean you ‘vowed’?”
But Sin merely shook his head. “If you do not want her to know, do not tell me.”
Eliza frowned. If she wanted Mab to know she’d found Adam, Eliza would have gone directly to her and asked why he was chained and tortured. But Eliza hadn’t said a word. For the first time, she looked upon Sin anew, taking note of the agonized guilt that shadowed his eyes. Perhaps he’d finally let her see it.
Her insides turned. “Sin,” she said carefully, “ought I have a reason to hide things from Mab?”
He grimaced, a mere twitch of his lips, before pasting a pleasant, carefree expression upon his face. He picked up a glass of champagne and made a show of taking a sip. “At this moment,” he answered as though speaking of the weather, “I’ve no reason to believe Mab would cause you harm.”
That did not mean she wouldn’t, Eliza realized with a racing heart. Inside of her silk gloves, her hands grew cold and damp. The urge to shout and cry nearly bubbled over. “Why,” she managed, “did you not tell me?”
He glanced away, his throat working. “I could not.” His pained expression returned to her. “I have watched over you as best I could.”
The sun came out, a rare occurrence for London, its rays a harsh yellow light, and Eliza blinked away a hazy blur of frustration and hurt. “I’d have preferred the truth.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I can only strongly suggest that you never agree to a blood vow with anyone you do not implicitly trust.”
She made a pretense of putting on a pleasant face, but still she did not look at him. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“You must learn our world, Eliza,” Sin murmured. “We are not like humans.”
When she looked up swiftly, he gave her a false smile even as his tone remained serious. “You are more than half fae, even if you’ve yet to believe it. Which means you can be bound by a blood vow. I am an elemental. Thus, I too can be bound.” Sorrow lined his handsome features. “Once bound, your vow is irrevocable, no matter how much you regret it.”
Eliza took a step away from him. “I think I’ll take a turn around the garden.” Her voice was wooden.
He frowned. But then nodded. “I understand,” Sin whispered. “I do.”
“No,” she ground out. “I don’t think you understand at all.”
Loneliness smothered her as she walked along an abandoned garden path. She’d thought Sin would be her one ally in this strange new world. She thought she could trust him. Enough. She was becoming downright maudlin. “Pity is for the weak,” she whispered. Especially if that pity was applied to one’s self.
“Yes, Eliza, it is.” The familiar masculine voice sent a shard of terror through her middle.
Eliza whipped around, her voice lost in shock. From out of the shadows, a figure slipped. And her dread increased, her insides threatening to heave. The man was of a towering height, his hair pale blond, and his eyes a deep, endless brown. Those eyes had once smiled at her, promising her the world. And she’d believe in them, just as gullible as the endless young men who laid upon Mab’s table like offerings.
Through dry lips, she found her voice, weak as it was. “Mellan.”
Mellan Marbury. Leader of the Black Death gang in Boston. Now her personal nightmare. She almost let out a laugh. And here she’d thought her demon captor was a bastard. She’d clearly forgotten what true bastards were.