Immortal bonds eclipse o.., p.1
Immortal Bonds: Eclipse of the Night, page 1
Immortal Bonds
Eclipse of the Night
Isabella Cain
Isabella Cain Romance
Copyright © 2024 by Isabella Cain
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Abigail
2. Tobias
3. Abigail
4. Tobias
5. Abigail
6. Tobias
7. Abigail
8. Tobias
9. Abigail
10. Tobias
11. Abigail
12. Tobias
13. Abigail
14. Tobias
15. Abigail
16. Tobias
17. Abigail
18. Tobias
19. Abigail
20. Tobias
Abigail
“This is as far as I go, miss.”
I blinked, looking at the stone gate and the long drive ahead. “You’re…You’re not going to take me up to the door?”
When I looked at the cabby, I saw something I didn’t expect—fear. He straight-up looked like he was about to shit bricks.
“Nah, not this house. Nobody ever goes farther than this gate. I’ll get your bags out of the back.”
The moment he dropped my bags on the gravel before me, he was running back to his car and peeling out in front of me.
What the hell?
Confused, I looked at the three suitcases and the overstuffed backpack. After dragging all of this through the airport, and that was hard enough, now I had to make the trek up this long-ass driveway? I had the worst luck ever.
Strapping on my backpack, I grabbed the smallest suitcase and tucked it under my arm, rolling the other two behind me. It wasn’t too bad until I turned the corner and realized that the rest of the path up to the house was bricks instead of pavement.
“Oh, fuck me,” I growled out. “This job better be worth it.”
Struggling, I walked along the path. This was my first time in England, and I could already understand why so many slutty romance novels were written about a place like this. It wasn’t only romantic; it felt mystical too—like it held the secrets of love under the grassy earth and tree roots. I took a deep breath, the crisp air filling my lungs. The scent of earth and flowers enveloped me as I continued on. The driveway seemed to go on forever, or at least that was what my shoulders were telling me.
Each step took me further away from the familiar and deeper into the unknown. Wildflowers dotted the path, their colors a riot of reds, yellows, and purples.
The sound of a babbling brook reached my ears, and I turned another corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. Sure enough, I soon found myself standing beside a crystal-clear brook. The water glistened in the dappled sunlight, and I couldn’t resist following it with my eyes as I moved forward.
As I rounded the bend, my breath caught in my throat. There it was, the manor, standing tall and majestic against the backdrop of the English countryside.
The towering spires stretched toward the heavens. Vines, dark and twisted, clung to the structure, holding it firmly to the ground. It was like something out of a horror movie.
I love it!
The many windows were grouped in pairs, narrow and pointed, like the eyes of a curious observer. Stained glass casts vibrant patterns onto the ground when the sunlight hits them just right.
I approached the front doors and the gargoyles with grotesque, contorted faces that guarded the threshold, their stone eyes seemingly following my every move. The door knocker was a huge, ornate iron beast with a gaping maw, as if daring visitors to announce their presence.
The air around the manor had a palpable weight. A sense of foreboding hung in the atmosphere, yet it was coupled with an undeniable allure. It was the kind of place that sent shivers down your spine and filled your mind with intrigue.
The surrounding grounds were equally enchanting and eerie. An overgrown garden sprawled out on the side of the manor, its once-manicured hedges now wild and untamed. Stone statues of angels, their wings chipped and worn, seemed to mourn the passage of time.
Gulping down my anxiety, I grabbed the knocker and hit it against the door three times.
No answer.
I knocked again. A feeling like I was knocking on death’s door crept into my chest.
Nothing.
Panic—actual panic—started to sizzle through my bones like an electric current, and unwelcome thoughts bubbled to the surface.
What if it’s all a scam? What if I flew over here, and used a huge chunk of my savings to get here, only for it to be a clever ruse? Oh my God, I would feel like such an idiot.
“Miss Turner. Miss Abigail Turner?”
I jerked at the sound, turning my body in the direction of the voice.
“Oh thank God, I thought…oh shit, wow.”
Obviously, before accepting the job of house manager for the manor, I had done a couple of interviews with the owner, Tobias Clarke. Even through the Zoom calls, I could tell he was handsome. The first time I saw his face, my heart had skipped a beat and I couldn’t look away from his dark and mysterious eyes.
But this was different, probably because we were in the light and he’d always kept his face shadowed a bit in the video.
Here he was in person, standing in front of me.
And saying “Oh shit, wow” instead of “holy fuck you’re, like, really hot” had seemed more appropriate.
He was wearing one of those horse rider’s outfits, like a jockey, or maybe polo? I wasn’t sure, but I did like the way it clung to his legs and the way his shirt sculpted to a muscular chest and lean frame. I’d hazard a guess that if he turned around, I would get a spectacular view of his ass.
Pull yourself together, girl!
And I did, but not enough to keep from staring.
It was too corny to say out loud, but he seriously looked like one of those Michelangelo statues in museums.
There was something almost…unnerving about his beauty. The angles of his face were sharp, his skin flawless, his brows and Cupid’s bow lips heavy, but permanently in a state of frowning. His eyes—dark and mysterious, and alarmingly black—just kept staring at me.
Does he ever blink?
He stood tall and rigid like a statue, his posture very formal. He held his hands behind his back, his shoulders pushed back, his chin parallel with the ground. Most people didn’t usually stand like that. He looked more like he was from the eighteenth century than the twenty-first century.
He was all just so perfect. He didn’t look human, and that…fascinated me. Maybe he was an alien or something.
“Um…Mr. Clarke?” I said with a hidden laugh.
Just a tiny bit, the corner of his mouth perked up in an amused smile.
Whoa…that small quirky smile.
Focus, Abi!
He walked toward me, pulling off his riding gloves. His pace was so damn sexy and I suddenly felt like I was in one of the dirtiest, smuttiest romance books.
I was compelled to close the gap between us. As I did, I lost my footing. I wasn’t looking at the uneven pathway, and before I knew what was happening, I was airborne.
Then, I wasn’t.
I felt his cold, hard hands slide along my side to wrap around my back, his fingers touching the skin over my spine where my tank top didn’t reach. My face made contact with his shoulder, and my own hands came up instinctively to hold him.
I quickly realized I was hugging a man I had never met before. I should have pulled away and apologized for invading his space, but I was in an absolute trance.
And it was because of the scent of him.
Earthy. Air. Rugged—like he lived on a mountaintop. Slightly musky from riding…whatever he was riding before meeting with me.
Oh my God, get a freakin’ hold of yourself!
I couldn’t pull away. There was something…electric about his arms. The feel of his cold skin against mine was sending white, sizzling hot currents throughout my whole body, and my heart was racing. It was racing so fast that I was starting to freak out.
Is it possible to have a heart attack from being attracted to someone? Because that would be embarrassing.
Here Lies Abigail Lauren Turner, Died From Staring at a Hot Guy.
How long he held me up, I didn’t really know, but Tobias was the one to pull away first.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. I’m not the best on my feet. They say it has to do with my ADHD—multi-tasking and all—but I just think the world is out to get me at every turn.” Great, now I’m oversharing.
“Please let me know if there are any special accommodations you need, like perhaps a new walkway?”
I was surprised by his quick remark. “Oh, that’s okay, I’ll try to be more careful.” I quickly added, “I love your home.”
He smiled. “Me too. We have that in common. Would you like to come inside?”
His frown deepened at the sight of my now dirt-covered luggage, and the beads of sweat on my forehead. England’s summers were usually manageable, but today just happened to be an unusually hot one.
He glanced back down the road. “Did you walk from the gate? I thought I told you to have the driver bring you to the door. It is a very long driveway.”
“I…I tried,”
I didn’t want to tell him that the driver seemed scared about going through the gate. And now I could see why. The house. The mysterious owner. It all felt very much like a documentary on how to spot a killer.
Yet, as I stood there, staring at Tobias, I didn’t get that vibe. I wanted to run toward him, not away from him.
“He, ah…had an emergency, asked if I could walk the rest of the way,” I lied terribly.
I could tell he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push it. For that, I was incredibly grateful.
I followed him as we walked back up the steps to the front door. He opened the door, picked up my bags, and escorted me inside.
By now, I had learned to filter my thoughts and control my words, so I didn’t speak as I walked into the foyer of the manor, but my mouth dropped open anyway. I left Tobias behind and continued inside until I was in the middle of the cavernous room. I tilted my head back to get a full view of the room, slowly turning to take in every angle.
I was amazed at all the intricate woodwork. It looked exactly like what you would expect an English manor foyer to look like—dark, with odd tables placed around sparsely. It had a warm glow from all the candles that lined the walls and tables. No bright lights here. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust.
It was the staircase that amazed me the most. It was massive and curved upward like it went straight to heaven. It was carpeted in a dark red wine color.
Then my eyes were drawn up to a massive chandelier. It was like no other—must have been like, ten feet wide. The lights looked like candles, but how did he light them?
I fell in love with the foyer immediately.
“I thought you said this place is a mess,” I said suspiciously.
“Well, this is just the foyer. I only use and keep a few of the rooms cleaned, while the rest have gone downhill. Let me show you.”
To the right of the foyer, he walked under the stairs and opened a door. I sneezed immediately upon entering.
“This is the parlor. As you can see, it hasn’t been used in quite a while.”
No kidding.
Unlike the foyer, the room was covered in more grime and dust than I had ever seen. There were glasses on top of the bar that looked like they hadn’t been moved in years.
I sneezed one more time before Tobias closed the door.
“Do you have dust allergies?” Tobias asked, looking at me.
“Nothing I can’t handle. I cleaned a few houses back in the States. I carry a mask for the harder rooms. I’ll manage just fine.”
“I do feel ashamed that I haven’t had this place cleaned in such a long time. This house has been in my family for over three hundred years. It deserves better. I recently decided it needs a…shall we say a female’s touch.”
I stopped to look out the large windows. “Did you just move in?”
For what felt like the first time that day, he blinked. “No.” He turned to walk down a dark hall.
Okay, that was weird.
The rest of the house was much the same—antiques, dust, grime, and cobwebs. He wasn’t lying; other than the foyer, these rooms would need a lot of work.
We headed to the kitchen.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, a Coke would be great if you have one?”
He flashed me another one of those corner smiles before opening the refrigerator and handing one to me.
“I hear you Americans like your beverages cold.”
“You heard correctly.”
“There’s a small cabin on the side of the estate. It’s a bit of a trek, but you’ll have a lot of privacy. I hired some cleaners last week, so I promise it doesn’t look like this place.”
Why did he automatically assume I wanted privacy? Privacy was the last thing I wanted.
My mind flashed to memories of a dark past I was trying to escape from, the thousands of miles I had traveled to hopefully allow me to finally feel safe.
“Actually,” I started. “Is it okay if I stay in the house? Hell, I’ll even take a closet with a sleeping bag if that’s all you got. I just…I would prefer to not be completely alone.”
Tobias didn’t say anything, and it was like I could see the gears turning around in his head. I honestly believed he was going to say no, but then: “As you wish, but I will not be letting you use a sleeping bag on the floor.”
I got the impression his idea of sleeping on the floor was much worse than mine, but I didn’t say anything.
“Follow me please.” He took me back through the foyer, up the stairs, and off to the right.
“This is the east wing,” he explained as we reached the top of the stairs. “My quarters are in the west, so you’ll have this wing all to yourself. Please feel free to choose your own room.”
Wings. Quarters. Why did he talk like this? It was not something I was used to. My old apartment back in Seattle could fit in his kitchen, and there would still be space, so I’d never had anything like a “wing” all to myself.
In the middle of the wing, on the left, he opened a bedroom door.
At least this room was clean, dusty but clean. There was a large canopy bed, wide windows, and a fireplace. A small desk sat in the corner under one of the large windows. It was perfect.
Well, almost.
“Is there something wrong?” Tobias asked like he could sense my change of mood.
“I kind of feel bad for asking.”
Corner smile. I was starting to like that expression on his face a lot. “Ask anything you would like.”
“Well, I’m just wondering…where’s your television? I haven’t seen one yet.”
“Oh, I don’t have one. I have never really invested in technology.”
Never invested in a television? Looking at him more closely, I thought he couldn’t have been older than his late thirties. Definitely, not old enough to consider television to be newfangled or modern.
“If you’d like one, I can have it shipped tomorrow.”
I held my hands up, shaking them wildly. “Oh, no, I don’t want you to have to go through the trouble. That’s a big expense. I can use my laptop.”
He shrugged. “It’s no problem. I’ll order it tonight.” He turned and walked away without giving me a chance for a rebuttal.
Later that night, I jumped into the large bed—I had to because the mattress was as high as my waist and I couldn’t get into it otherwise.
“Oh, nice,” I whispered into the darkness of the night, scooting my butt down into the fluffy covers. This bed felt nicer than anything else I’d ever slept in, and I fell asleep pretty quickly.
I woke up halfway through the night, screaming.
This was nothing new to me; the nightmares had come and gone most nights for the past year or so.
They were always the same—me running through dark city streets, and him finding me. In the end, I always woke up frightened.
Sighing, I got out of bed. My mouth was dry and my favorite water bottle was empty of water.
Just as I was passing by the windows on the way to the kitchen, I saw a shadow outside. I stopped to take a closer look.
I may have only known him for one afternoon, but I had a feeling I would recognize Tobias anywhere. The squareness of his shoulders, the trim of his waist, the strength in his thighs—all of it had been branded into my brain from the moment I saw him. He was wearing black pants, a black t-shirt, and black shoes, making him barely visible in the darkness.
It was two o’clock in the morning. Why is he not sleeping? Why is he dressed like that? The questions jumped around in my head.
Where in the world is he going so late?
He turned to look in my direction and his gaze zeroed in on mine.
It wasn’t the fact that he had caught me staring that startled me. It was his eyes. Gone were the dark and mysterious eyes; they’d been replaced with a bright crimson red, like two orbs of fresh blood. My heart raced as my mind tried to find a reason for what I was seeing.
If he hadn’t been near an opening in the trees, I would never have seen him under the moonlight.
When the trance of his eerie eyes broke, I jumped behind the curtain—as if that would convince him that I hadn’t seen anything…anything at all. I waited for only a minute before I peeked out again.
The grounds were empty as if he’d never been there at all.
