“No.” The word punctured the taut silence. It hurt to say. More than he’d expected. He’d ruled them with utter conviction. But no more.

Instead of sneering, however, the woman’s lashes swept down as if his confession wounded her. “Which explains why you don’t realize that we would never hand you over.”

And as a lump of emotion clogged Adam’s throat, a fine-looking man with a youthful face but a world-weary voice spoke up. “Were you to hear our thoughts, you’d know. You are our sire. Now and forever.”

The clothes Mr. Brown brought Adam were not of good fit or high quality. Adam hadn’t wanted that. “I need to appear working class,” he’d told the GIM.

The assumption being that Adam would attract less notice that way. Eliza rather thought he could not be more wrong. A fine specimen of a man without window dressing simply made the architecture of his body that much more appealing. No matter how dull and shapeless the cut of his trousers were, they could not hide his massive thighs, nor the length of his legs. The wrinkled white work shirt worn open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows merely drew attention to the strong column of his throat and the ropey muscles along his forearms.

They were going out today. They had two objectives now. Meet with an oracle and obtain the sword from Lucien Stone. In that order.

“If Mellan expects you to lead him to your sword, that means he’s following us.”

“Logic would assume so.” Adam, having apparently decided to put on a jacket, proceeded to secure the top button of his collar.

“Then why on earth should we go to retrieve it? You are not at your best.” Eliza winced as he frowned, and she hurried on. “I’m sorry to be blunt about that, but it does concern me.”

“Concerned about my welfare or my ability to protect you, Miss May?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination, or rather you may let your rather large conceit decide.

“I’m being serious, Adam” – his chest lifted at her use of his name – “why go after your sword with this threat hanging over our heads?”

He was silent for a moment, and she dared not lift her head to meet his eyes. With a distinct step backwards, he put a small distance between them. “We need it for these.” He lifted his wrists and the chains clanked loudly. “The sword is a fae weapon, Miss May. Coated with iron, unbreakable, and capable of killing a fae warrior. I stole it long ago when I was a knight.” He grinned, showing his bold, white teeth. “Didn’t realize what it was at the time, but you can be sure I’ll not be giving it back.”

“And this sword will cut through your chains?”

“By your hand?” He glanced at her hands, resting in her lap. “Yes.”

“And the sword is with Lucien?”

“It is on Lucien’s barge. However, that is being watched,” Adam said.

“Can Lucien not simply bring it to us?” Lucien was Adam’s right hand. Eliza had watched him when she’d been with Adam before; the GIM was charming, crafty, and loyal.

Adam had looked pained then. “If anyone could find him. But he’s gone off somewhere, and I’ll not trust another with retrieving the sword.”

“Then why not retrieve it before we go to the oracle?”

“You’ve endless questions, Miss May,” he said mildly.

“Yes, and you’re constantly fueling more of them.” Eliza sat in a chair, unwilling to move until she was satisfied. “Answer them.”

Adam grunted. Clearly being ordered to talk was not something he liked. “The sword will keep. The oracle will not. I want to get there before someone else does.”

Eliza lurched upright. “Is the oracle in danger?”

“Every oracle is in danger, dove. But the more likely case here is that Mab or Mellan will persuade the oracle to lie to us.” He shot her a look. “I’d rather have my information untainted, wouldn’t you?”

She made a noise of agreement. And the corner of his mouth tilted upward. He really was a fine-looking man.

Adam, in the act of slipping on a brown wool vest and buttoning it up, caught her gaze and stilled. The golden eyes of a hawk pinned her. “Why do you look at me so?” he asked in his dark, coffee voice.

Eliza willed herself to remain light and unaffected. “And how is it that I am looking at you?”

He peered at her, his head canting just a bit. “As if you find me amusing.” Oh, but it was clear he did not find that amusing in the least. And he could not have been more wrong. Obviously, he hadn’t the faintest notion how charismatic he was. The GIM that cared for him could hardly keep their eyes off of him. True, he no longer possessed that odd, overwhelming sexual pull that his powers had given him. This was more subtle, but no less potent. Adam, the man, was one of those rare persons who others would always long to be near.

And, by God, he was magnificent.

“I was thinking,” she said, “that you’d have been better off dressed in those horrid plaid trousers. At the very least, you’d look ridiculous.”

His scowl grew, but oddly so did the color upon his high-cut cheeks. He was blushing. How charming. Eliza found herself smiling, and he grumbled low in his throat at the action. “I bloody well despise those trousers, and why the bloody hell would you want me to look ridiculous?”

“You stick out like a candle at midnight as you are now.”