Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

She was too confused by his back and forth attitude and her own unsettled feelings to fight back, so she hurried along beside him and kept her eyes down, hoping no one would notice the halfling being dragged down the street by the very angry looking fullsoul. When she did peek up, she noticed that anyone they passed took pains to look in the other direction, to not notice what was happening. No one wanted to get involved to help someone like her. This was how all those halfling girls ended up naked and strangled, tossed into the river with no witnesses to the crimes. Goddamn fullsouls too worried about their own asses to do anything to help anyone else. She wanted to scream at them, but it wouldn't matter, and she didn't relish the thought of making Lark angrier.

She shuddered and tried to keep the image of that blue-eyed man out of her mind. Lark wasn't him, Lark didn't smell like he'd bathed in alcohol and smoked a hundred cigarettes. She glanced at Lark, he smelled wonderful and his eyes were a brilliant green.

"Don't look at me like that," he demanded.

She jumped and a tremble ran through her. "Like what?" she asked.

"Like I'm going to hit you," he hissed.

"Then maybe you shouldn't look like you want to hit me," she whispered. "I've seen that look before, and it didn't end well for me."

Lark stopped so fast she almost fell as his arm yanked her. He looked at her with such leashed anger she wanted to shrink away and hide.

"What happened?" he demanded.

She shook her head, unable to speak in the face of such fury.

He pushed her back into a dark doorway, she was thankful to be away from prying eyes, but she didn't want to face his anger, directed at her or not it was intense.

"What happened?" he demanded again.

She couldn't look at him and answer, she stared at her scuffed tennis shoes and took a shaky breath. "It was a long time ago."

"It's why you carry pepper spray?" he asked.

"Not exactly, I mean, I already carried the pepper spray before the incident, the pepper spray is the only thing that kept him from finishing what he intended to do."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."

"It matters when my soulwife flinches away from anger not even directed at her."

"I'm not your soulwife," she said, bringing her eyes up to meet his gaze.

"You are, and you will tell me who hurt you."

"I don't know who he was," she admitted, annoyed that a nameless figure haunted her, that someone who she didn't know held a power over her still. It wasn't fair, but she knew very well that nothing in this life was fair.

"He didn't—" he looked suddenly uncomfortable. "You were able to keep him from?—"

"Yes," she said, taking pity on him trying to ask if the bastard had raped her. She looked away as she continued. "He hit me a couple times and threw me on the ground, but I sprayed him and ran. Never saw him again." She shuddered. "But I will never forget the hate and anger in his bright blue eyes as he called me a lust baby and a whore for being on the street at night." She hated the way her voice trembled a bit at the memory. "I was just trying to walk home from work."

Lark grasped her chin gently and nudged her head up until she was meeting his gaze. "I wouldn't hesitate to painfully kill anyone who would dare to hurt you."

Ebony believed those words more than any she'd ever heard in her life and she wasn't sure what to do with this side of him.

Visions of everything that being his soulwife would entail sprang up in her mind and sparked a desire in her belly. She could almost feel his hands on her bare skin, his lips trailing down her neck, his?—

She nearly groaned as she forced herself to not think of the undoubtedly impressive part of him that would soothe the ache between her thighs.

Lark's nostrils flared and a rumble rose from his chest as his eyes darkened. He grabbed her arm and they were once again hurrying down the street, gathering no less attention from passersby. The firm presence of his hand on her and the rushing down the street didn't seem like it was coming from a place of anger this time though. Ebony could practically feel the desire vibrating over his body in reflection of her own and sparking where his hand gripped her arm. She wasn't sure how much more she could take before she started panting or just burst into flames right there on the street. His touch filled her with so much unexperienced desire, so much spiraling tension she wasn't sure how to handle it. If others felt even a fraction of this with someone not their soulmate, she had to wonder how they could not be sleeping with everyone they encountered. No wonder the government pushed their suppressants so hard.

"Stop it," Lark hissed.

"I'm not doing anything," she whined, because she was far too busy feeling these new desires to be angry at his demands.

"I can practically smell your desire and your face is flushed, you're vibrating under my hand and the fucking sparks are sharp."

"Like I can control that!" Ebony ripped her arm out of his grasp. "If you stop dragging me around you won't feel it… and neither will I," she whispered the last as a shudder ran through her body mourning the loss of contact with him.

Lark grunted and grabbed her arm again. She almost smiled as he angrily continued on. He might hate that he wanted her, but he obviously craved contact between them, and she was starting to as well.

Lark stopped beside a large black truck parked a few blocks past the hotel and opened the passenger door for her. She hopped inside quickly and without argument, glad to break the contact and get off the street. He was parked in front of Mrs. Gimball's shop and Mrs. Gimball was standing at the entrance watching her with narrowed eyes. Shame threatened to overtake her as the lust Lark inspired receded at his absence. She'd never be able to face Mrs. Gimball again without knowing she thought Ebony was whoring herself out.

It smelled like him in the small space, woodsy and fresh. She couldn't help taking a deep breath and letting it roll around in her lungs like a drug. It made her body feel soft and happy. She wanted to close her eyes and soak it up as long as possible. It was a comforting smell as if she'd been waiting all her life for it.

Lark had his phone out when he slid into the driver's seat, speaking to someone about appropriate clothing for her it sounded like. He turned to her as he started the truck. "What else do you need? Makeup? Tampons?"

She nearly choked on his casual mention of tampons. Dear lord, tampons were a commodity that halflings could rarely afford. She had lip gloss in her purse and mascara, that was enough makeup, she wasn't trying to pretend to be anyone she wasn't, and if he was trying to make her into someone else, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"No, thank you, just something appropriate to wear and a shower would be great. Oh, maybe some deodorant," she added, embarrassed, but she wasn't about to walk into a fullsoul restaurant without a barrier against her stress sweat.

He relayed the message and flipped the phone closed, then pulled out into traffic. She stared at the shiny little phone he set in the cup holder and thought about how worried Taylor was going to be when she didn't show up back at the district soon.

He must have read her mind, or more likely noticed her obvious staring, because he handed her the phone. "Do you need to call someone? Or quit your job? You certainly won't be in for a while."

That surprised her. "How long do you think it will take to find her."

He shrugged. "Depends, sometimes I get lucky, other times it takes months."

Ebony touched her chest where the dull ache was a near-constant reminder that she didn't have months.

"I need to make a call." She dialed Taylor's number, knowing she'd just get her machine, no one in the halfling district could afford a cell but they all had landlines and answering machines. She told Taylor that Lark had changed his mind, that she would be gone for a week or more and she promised to check in again soon. She told Taylor to tell Mr. Glick that she quit. He didn't deserve a call.

"Thanks." She handed Lark the phone. "Oh, and I guess I need to give you this too." She pulled the money out of her purse.

He just looked at it with disgust. "No, you aren't paying me."

"Yes, I am. I need you to find her, and I don't expect any favors."

"I don't search for five, remember."

Ebony stuffed the cash back in her bag with anger. "Well then what the hell do you want?"

"Your soul," he said simply, and stepped on the gas, darting out into traffic.

Ebony didn't know what to say to that, so she stared out the passenger window as they drove through one nice neighborhood after another. The lack of contact and distraction of the passing sights was enough to calm her body from its heightened state of need. She absently rubbed at her chest and tried not to think of anything except the beauty of the world they were passing through. Clean streets, brightly colored buildings, trees, and flowers planted strategically to add a touch of greenery and color. Nothing overgrown, nothing out of place and the people, they were beautiful too, they reminded her of her mother.

She started to cry silently.

Lark ignored Ebony's silent tears while they drove because he didn't think he could ask her anything without anger being present in his tone. It wasn't anger at her; it was anger at his inability to take from her what he wanted, and despite the fact that he definitely didn't want a soulwife, he wanted to possess her. He was fighting his instincts to pull off onto a dark alley and drag her into the back seat right then. He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. This tiny woman who looked like she was starved half to death and with hardly any makeup on made his dick stand at attention just being near her.

His hands gripped the wheel with murderous intent as he remembered what she said about her past experience, how she'd been hit and almost raped by an asshole who thought halfling women were his for the taking, his to abuse. Lark still wanted to lash out and kill every man he could find just in case they'd been the one. He couldn't explain the level of protectiveness he felt towards her.

He'd seen the effects of the horrible things men could do to women. He'd watched more than one halfling girl in the orphanage come home broken and bleeding. He and his boys used to go out and hunt down the bastards when they could, more often than not the girls' stories were the same as Ebony's though. No idea who the guy was, no name, a face they didn't recognize enough to find again. His heart ached remembering a few who hadn't been able to keep going after, who'd chosen to take their own lives rather than live in a world where that could happen to them with no consequence, no reassurance that it wouldn't happen again.

What kind of world didn't protect its weakest members? His grip tightened on the wheel. Knowing how weak Ebony was, could he protect her? He wanted to lock her away from anything that could possibly harm her and at the same time a part of him wanted to run from her and the obligation she presented, the possibilities she brought up that he had never wanted. The contradiction was infuriating.

The whole situation was unfair to both of them, and he was angry at himself for not handling it all better as Ebony wept beside him. No matter what the future might hold for them, he knew that he didn't want her tears or fear.

When they pulled up in front of his two-story brick house with its manicured lawn and attached garage, she was no longer crying. He was thankful for that, but his nerves were on edge, and he was wound tight, ready to explode. He had to keep a calm fa?ade for her, he knew he might scare her with his intensity, and he wondered, not for the first time, if she were a virgin. He knew she didn't take suppressants, but the way she'd reacted to him, how she'd melted with desire against his touch felt so raw, so untouched. Was she? He didn't care either way, it wouldn't ruin her to know she'd been with another, but he found himself liking the thought that she'd be only for him, now and always. The thought made him want to get Stone and Granger out of the house. He didn't want her to be around those two horn dogs.

"You live here?" Ebony asked as she wiped at her eyes and cheeks. Her skin was still splotchy from her tears but somehow it only made him want her more, made him want to kiss those tear trails and keep her safe from anything that would ever make her cry again.

"Most of the time," he said in a clipped tone, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question.

"I travel a lot, comes with the job," he explained.

Ebony nodded and turned back to the house where Stone stood on the porch now, watching them curiously. Lark hadn't told them where he was going when he'd left that afternoon. After half a day trying to convince himself that he didn't need to find her, he'd given up and stormed out of the house without a word to anyone. He really wished he'd sent them away. Something about them being around her made his skin prickle. He'd trust either man with his life, but with his soulmate, not a chance.

Lark jumped out of the truck feeling his anxious energy ramp up as he walked around the truck and opened her door. She was still looking at Stone with a touch of surprise.

"Oh, thanks," she mumbled and hopped out quickly. "Who's your friend?"

"Stone, he's head of security, you met him last night."

"Oh yeah. Security?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah, more for you than me, I can take care of myself."

"Why would I be in danger?"

"The search for soulsiblings doesn't always take us into friendly territory, Ebony. I try not to let my clients die before we find their soulsibling."

Ebony gave a nervous laugh and turned back to Stone on the porch. He was watching them but hadn't moved or said anything and Lark wondered what he was thinking of this development.

"Stone, you remember Ebony Landry," Lark said as he led her to the porch, not daring to touch her this time.

"How could I forget?" Stone said with a wide grin that Lark recognized as the one he used at the bar with women he was hoping to bed.

"Asshole, you threw me out on the street and bruised my ass," she said with a frown.

"Kinky," Stone said with a laugh.

"What?" Lark gritted out; eyes locked onto Stone. All reason flew from his mind as the images those few words brought up in his mind overwhelmed him. He wanted to kill his friend and ask for clarification later.

"Woah, boss, I did nothing to her pretty little ass, but if she was offering…" he said with a wink.

Lark moved fast, he grabbed Stone's throat and pressed him up against the door. In that moment he wanted to kill, wanted to relieve some of the tension in his body through violence.

"She is my soulmate. That puts her well beyond your filthy reach, brother. I don't want to see you even look at her."

Understanding flashed into Stone's eyes and his mouth quirked up into a smile. "Soulmate?" Stone said, unfazed by the hand around his neck.

Stone's gaze moved past Lark to Ebony behind him. "You lucky bastard, I thought she was a halfsoul, her eyes are dull enough. What the hell was she after, coming to your office?"

Lark dropped his hand and stepped back but kept his body between Ebony and Stone. "She's a halfsoul," he said darkly, not liking the interest Stone was showing in his soulmate.

"No way! She's a dominant?" Stone said excitedly, leaning around Lark to see Ebony.

"A what?" Ebony asked from behind him.

Lark turned to face Ebony. She was obviously confused, and he wondered how she didn't know. "It's a soul that is more than half, not full, but enough that, apparently, it recognizes its soulmate. I have heard about it in theory, but never seen an example. Honestly, I didn't think it was real, seems like a mistake of the gods and their delightful punishment." Lark let his hatred of their situation and the ones who'd cursed it drip from his voice.

"What does that mean for my soulsister?" Ebony whispered.

"It could mean that she's very nearly a nosoul," Lark said darkly.

Ebony gasped, "You believe in nosouls."

"Not just believe in them, I've dealt with them." Lark pulled up a sleeve and showed her bite mark scars all along his forearm. "But I lived. They aren't strong, they aren't smart, but they are dangerous, especially in a group."

Ebony bit her lip and reached out a hand, tracing the scars and sending a delightful tingle through Lark's body.

"I saw one born. Most people don't believe they're real," she said and looked up into his eyes. "What does this mean for our search?"

"I don't know yet," Lark said honestly.

Ebony stared up into his eyes with a confusing mix of hope and fear. Her hands gripped his forearm and a constant pulse flowed where there was skin-to-skin contact. He didn't want to lose it, it felt so good, he wanted more, wanted to know what that electricity would feel like all over. He nearly groaned as he saw desire in her eyes reflecting his own, a desire that he knew she was fighting. She pulled her hand off of him and stepped back, shifting her eyes to the ground. The loss of contact was stark, and his hand twitched to reach out and touch her.

"Ebony—" he breathed it like a question, wanting permission to grab her and drag her up to his bedroom.

"Shit, Lark," Stone said, breaking the moment.

Lark grabbed Ebony's arm, leading her into the house. "Warn Granger, no one touches her," Lark ordered.

His home was very modern with accents of dark wood and clean white floors and walls. It didn't look very lived in and he worried she wouldn't like it. He knew what she was used to in the district, knew it was homey and dark, lived in and messy in a way that came from small spaces filled with lifetimes of possessions. She slipped out of her old tennis shoes inside the door and gripped her purse like a lifeline. He hated that everything she had was old, used, and abused. He wanted to see her adorned in every luxury he knew he could offer. Even when she'd dressed her best, which he knew she had when she'd come to him last night—they all did—it was nothing special. Just a clean T-shirt and slightly ripped jeans. Her shoes had been the same as she wore now, and he wondered if they were her only pair.

Not that she needed anything more to be beautiful. Even before he'd known she was his soulmate he'd been attracted to her. He'd have to be dead not to see the beauty in her smooth skin, dark hair, and full lips. Yeah, she was too skinny, but it didn't detract from her beauty, just gave her an air of fragility that made him want to scoop her up and take care of her.

Her eyes were wide as they took in the space and her mouth pressed shut. She looked nervous and it frustrated him that she would feel anything other than happy to be in his home. He knew he was frowning as he led her up the stairs, but he couldn't help it. This wasn't how he wanted things to go. He hated that he wanted her to like his home. Hated that her look of unease made his belly ache. She followed, of course, silent as he led her down the hall to the room at the far end, closest to his.

He stopped at the door and pushed it open. "You can stay in here; it has its own bathroom there and clothes should be here soon." He knew his voice was gruff, his posture stiff, but he knew that if he didn't hold himself completely in control, he'd grab her and drag her to that bed. Downstairs he heard the voices of his men. Granger had returned with the clothes he'd requested for her. No doubt Stone was telling him everything about their arrival now.

Ebony looked around the brightly-decorated bedroom but didn't speak or move.

"You don't like it? You can always use my room." He spoke quietly, bent forward so he could whisper in her ear. His body tingled being this close to her and he knew by the little shiver that ran through her, she felt the same.

She stepped away and turned around, plastering a smile on her face that did little to hide her anxiety. "It's great, it's just so nice. I'm not used to such luxury."

Lark looked around the room with a frown. "You'll be comfortable here." This would seem like the greatest luxury to her, better even than the rooms she cleaned at that hotel and that hurt him to know how she'd suffered so long, that all the halflings did.

"Yeah, thank you." She gave him a genuine smile this time and it made his heart flip. He wanted to reach out and run a finger over those lips, he wanted to spend his life making sure she never stopped smiling like that.

It was difficult, but he nodded and left, closing the door behind him. He hurried down the stairs to his waiting men.

"Soulmate?" Granger questioned as soon as Lark was down the stairs. Granger was standing just inside the door with bags in his hands and Stone stood beside him smiling like an idiot.

"Oh yeah, you should have seen the way he attacked me over her. He's in deep already," Stone laughed.

"No one touches what's mine," Lark growled.

"You never were good at sharing your toys," Stone teased.

Lark glared at his friend, still very ready to punch that pretty face of his and make sure he wasn't attractive to Ebony any time soon.

Granger must have sensed the downward spiral of the situation; he shoved the bags at Lark. "Well then, why don't you deliver these yourself. I have no interest in the woman."

"That's because you haven't seen her," Stone said, then hurried from the room as Lark's chest rumbled.

"Relax," Granger hissed. "You know he just wants to bait you. Keep your shit together, man."

"Never in my life has my shit been more apart," Lark said. "She's not a fullsoul."

Lark met his friend's eyes and saw pity there, then determination. "We'll find her soulsister, you'll have your soulmate one way or another."

Lark shook his head. "I don't want it if it isn't her." And the realization that she could possibly lose in a battle with her soulsister and leave him with another version of herself was devastating. There was no precedent for what was happening with them, no record of anyone sparking to a soulmate who wasn't a fullsoul. He had to assume that if she found her soulsister and Ebony was killed in the soulbattle, that he'd feel the soulmate spark with her soul still. Her piece of soul that would unite with the piece in her soulsister, the winner of the soulbattle. He couldn't imagine the torture of feeling a spark to a body that wasn't Ebony's, only because it housed this piece of her soul. It wasn't fair and it scared the shit out of him.

"You'll have her," Granger assured him.

Lark knew his friend would do everything in his power to make that happen, but there was no guarantee, not really.