by Meg Anne
Raining kisses along every inch of her face he could reach, he continued to brokenly murmur her name. “Please. Open your eyes.”
Pulling back slightly, he stared down into her face. He stopped breathing when her eyelids began to flutter. He was weeping openly when twin pools of the brightest blue blinked up at him.
His heart expanded, the joy almost painful in its intensity, only for her to shatter it completely with her rasping words.
“Who are you?”
Chapter 14
She continued to blink up at him, her eyes wide and guileless. It hurt to look at her, to hold her, but after everything, he couldn’t bear to let her go. Closing his eyes, Lucian tried to bury his emotions somewhere far inside himself. Somewhere deep enough they’d allow him to finish what he’d started.
He’d known this was a possibility. That even after the corruption was removed, there could be lingering effects. He’d been preparing for the eventuality, but he didn’t want to make this choice for her. She may never forgive him.
There was a whisper-soft touch against his cheek, there and gone, and then her tentative voice. “Why are you crying?”
Lucian swallowed and forced his eyes back open. Not sure where to even begin answering that question, he opted for an oversimplified half-truth. “You’ve been very sick, sweetheart.”
Her brows furrowed. “I have?”
Still feeling as though his heart had just been ripped out from inside his chest, Lucian could only manage a nod.
“I don’t feel sick . . .” she murmured.
“I’m glad to hear it, but we still have a little more work to do.”
She seemed content to trust him and was in no hurry to leave the circle of his arms. For that, Lucian was grateful. He didn’t know if he’d be able to comply. His emotions might be in check for now, but tremors were still racing through his body. He was in no state to open up the floodgates of his power once more.
But he had to.
No matter the cost.
Breathing deeply through his nose, Lucian emptied his mind. He’d clearly healed her body, and he’d seen for himself that her essence was intact, but the corruption had stolen something. The only way to determine if he could repair the damage was to figure out the extent of the loss.
“Effie?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
The faintest tendril of relief unfurled within him. She remembers her name, at least. So her mind is whole; that’s something.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Her eyes took on a faraway cast, and she blinked in confusion. “Waking up,” she answered finally.
“Not how you got here? Not who I am? Not the citadel?”
She shook her head, looking apologetic. “Should I?”
Even though his heart screamed yes, Lucian forced himself to smile and reassure her. “It’s just the side effects of your illness.”
“But you can fix it?” she asked. Her voice was so full of trust that it broke whatever pieces of his heart were left.
“Aye, sweetheart, I can fix it.”
“But you don’t want to?” she asked, her lips dipping into a frown. She looked so lost, so small in his arms, but still she managed to see straight through him.
Lucian’s answer was immediate. “Of course I want to. It’s just . . . the treatment is permanent. It should be your decision whether to undertake it or not.”
“Will it give me back my memories?”
Swallowing, Lucian nodded. “It will.”
She was blushing as she admitted, “I think I would like to remember you.”
It hurt to breathe, and it took every ounce of control he had left, but Lucian forced himself not to crush her to his chest.
“We are . . .”—she seemed to struggle for a word—“important to each other. Aren’t we?”
Unable to meet her gaze, Lucian lifted a hand to brush a curl off of her forehead. “What makes you say that?”
“I may not remember your name,”—Effie lifted a hand and rested it against her chest—“but I think I remember you here. I feel . . .” she shook her head, at a loss for words once more.
It might have been selfish but Lucian needed those words. It may be his only opportunity to ever hear them come from her lips. “What do you feel?”
It was her turn to take a deep breath, the words bursting from her in a rush. “Everything. When I opened my eyes and saw your face, it was like coming home. Peace, and warmth, and joy. And then I noticed your tears and that hurt. I-I think the only reason I’d feel those things, and you’d be so upset that I was unwell, is if we meant something to each other.”
Lucian briefly closed his eyes, his arms tightening around her. “Yes,” he finally managed. “We are important to each other.”
“So, if this treatment will help me remember you, then do it. I want to remember the man that makes me feel all of that.”
He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”
“Yes, I do.”
He tried to shake his head, but she stopped him with another soft brush of her fingers against his cheek. “Please.”
“Okay,” he agreed, unable to deny her anything. Especially when his heart longed for the same. “I’m going to need you to lie back, alright?”
She nodded, and Lucian finally dropped his arms, watching her settle herself back on the ground. “Like this?” she asked.
“Yes. Perfect.” Lucian started to draw on his power.
Effie let out a soft gasp. “Beautiful.”
He blinked at her. “What’s beautiful?”
“Your eyes. They’re glowing.”
Lucian wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Her honesty cut almost as deep as the loss of her memories, if only because it underscored how much was at stake. “Close your eyes for me,” he whispered, his voice strangled.
She obeyed immediately and even that hurt. Since when did his fledgling ever do anything he asked without a fight? Her unconditional trust was a gift he did not deserve.
Not when he’d been deceiving her since the day they met.
Palms resting on his thighs, Lucian let his power build around him. As it did, memories began to gather and swell in his mind. Memories that did not belong to him, but were no less his because of how they were obtained.
Memories he’d discovered in another place . . . while wearing a different form . . . and answering to a different name.
A name she’d gifted him.
Navy runes broke out across his skin, flaring with the same metallic brilliance as his eyes. Lifting his hand, he pressed his palm against the center of her forehead and then opened the telepathic connection that would irrevocably link them.
Effie’s body bowed up off of the ground, her mouth opening on a silent gasp as she received not only her memories, but a power that would transform her more completely than the corruption ever had.
Lucian’s power.
Smoke’s power.
A Guardian’s power.
Part II
Guardian
“It matters not what someone is born,
but what they grow to be.”
J.K. Rowling
Chapter 15
If she still had a body, Effie couldn’t feel it. She was formless, existing in a state of consciousness that occurred outside any mortal definitions. For the first time in her life she was truly free.
Thoughts and voices swirled around her in a vibrant wash of colors she’d never seen before. Curls of silver caught her attention and Effie focused harder on them, bringing them into sharp and stunning relief. As she watched, more of the misty curls took shape until she was surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and enfolded in a cocoon of contentment.
As the clouds formed, one of the indistinguishable voices that had been murmuring in the background became clear. “Effie.”
Warmth exploded from her center . . . if she had a center. It was hard to know without a body.
This voice sh
e knew, absolutely. Although it was altered somehow. Less insubstantial than usual. No longer just smoky echoes of a campfire, but rich with layers. Both crackling fire and delicious heat.
“Effie.” The voice was impatient, but also amused. As if it knew she was distracted.
Effie tried to call out, only to be brought up short. How was she supposed to answer without a mouth?
“You need only think and I can hear you, fledgling.”
Two faces obscured by the smoke floated into her view, blurring and merging as they fought for her attention. Before she could place either face, a discordant note vibrated throughout her consciousness, interrupting her musings. Only one person ever called her fledgling, and he’d never spoken in her mind before.
“Lucian? Am I dreaming?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“You know the answer, Effie.”
And she did. It was right there, as if she’d summoned it. One man with two faces. They were one and the same.
“Smoke.”
“Yes.”
More of the pleasant numbness faded away, leaving her mind feeling crowded and heavy. It was hard to focus under the pressure. She struggled against it, preferring the weightlessness of before.
“You can’t fight it, Effie. But if you let me, I can show you how to mute it.”
“Yes,” she eagerly agreed. Anything to keep from being smothered under the strain.
“It helps the first time to visualize it. I want you to imagine a bowl or chalice. The object doesn’t matter so long as it’s a vessel that needs to be refilled.”
As he spoke, a bronze goblet took form. It was old; tiny fissures snaking through its metallic surface.
Lucian’s startled laugh, a deep, husky rumble, moved through her like growls of thunder. Or maybe it was lightning, and she was the rod that channeled its unrelenting force. There was another rumble. “Focus, Effie. And try for something a little more substantial, please. The goal is not to lose that which we pour into it.”
With a thought, she smoothed out the small cracks in her chalice, patching them with molten gold.
“Good. Now we fill it up.”
“With what?”
“Everything that makes you Effie.”
“As opposed to everything that makes me someone else?”
She felt his amusement as clearly as if it were her own. Effie wanted to burrow down in its warmth and stay there.
“The first transformation is always the most difficult. It is hard to imagine ourselves as a series of defining moments or relationships, but when you learn to embrace the things that created the person you are, it’s easier to pull them close and be them once more.”
“Is that supposed to make sense?”
“It will in time. For now, just do as I say.”
“How can I obey something I don’t understand?”
Lucian sighed. It wove through her, giving Effie form only long enough for her to feel the rush of breath like a caress. Mind-speaking this way was beyond intimate. In this state, she was wholly exposed, any mental barriers she might have once had obliterated. They were connected so completely it was as if they’d become one.
“When I am Smoke, I need to let go of Lucian. I send away everything that defines him—”
The words should have been jarring. The secret they so casually revealed deserving of further exploration, but Effie was interested only in contradicting them. “Not everything.” Surprise—Lucian’s—rippled through her. “Pieces of him remain.”
“Well, we are the same in the end. Elements of us will always be connected.”
“So, it’s not just an illusion? Smoke’s body?”
“It is . . . and it isn’t. It is simply another form I take when required. Two sides of the same coin. As a member of the Triumvirate, Smoke is bound by different rules. There are things I can do—and be—as Smoke that I could never accomplish as Lucian.”
“I’m still not sure I understand.”
“It’s okay. You will, I promise. For now, the only thing you need to do is focus.”
“Okay.” Effie was happy to let it go for now. Attempting to unravel the paradox he’d laid upon her was too confusing. Trying only served to bring the chaotic swirl of thoughts pressing in on her once more.
There was a beat of silence and then another gentle prompt. “Think of your favorite possession. An item that brings you joy or great comfort. Something special, but perhaps only to you.”
A small, intricately tooled leather journal immediately sprang to life in her mind. Her Keeper’s journal. The one Lucian had given her.
Once again, his shock and delight over her response worked through her. Instead of giving voice to it, Lucian simply said, “Good. Now place your journal into the cup.”
Visualizing the items side by side, there was no way the journal would fit in the chalice, so she imagined it shrinking until it slid inside the empty bowl.
“Very good. Now take a favorite memory and do the same.”
She was following his instruction before his words fully registered. The recollection rose unbidden, causing little flickers of heat to shimmer and spark. Lucian’s eyes were boring into hers as he told her he wanted more than just her body. Not waiting to see what he had to say about that revelation, Effie imagined the cup filling with liquid, his face reflected along its wavering surface.
“Now something less pleasant. Something you wish you could forget.”
Too many memories vied for attention at the almost apologetic order. There was Darrin’s charred body. Kieran’s hateful words. Her mother’s sneering face as she told her she was worthless. Each memory hurt, but it was a dull ache, like a splinter that had sunk so deep the skin had already grown back to cover it. For each she imagined them as drops of rain, falling out of her and back into her chalice.
She didn’t stop there.
Understanding now what she needed to do, Effie recalled every beautiful and equally hateful moment from her life, calling them to the surface so they could pour out of her and back into the vessel that was soon overflowing. With each new one she added, her body solidified, and the weight of all of the foreign thoughts and voices faded away until she was all that remained.
Whole once more, Effie opened her eyes.
Chapter 16
The first thing Effie noticed was the way the flecks in Lucian’s dark eyes glowed. They weren’t the usual bronze, but an incandescent gold that was practically blinding in its intensity. She squinted automatically, trying to shield her eyes as he stared down at her.
“H-hi,” she rasped, her voice rusty with disuse.
His entire body shuddered at the sound of her voice, and he let out a strangled groan. “Welcome back.”
She almost asked him where she’d been, but the memories came flooding back, sparing her none of their horrific details. Not what she’d become—or the soul-shattered look of Lucian’s eyes every time he’d visit her.
Pushing herself upright, Effie’s head swam with the knowledge. A quick check of her body showed that none of the previous weeks’ ugliness touched her. Her body was as whole and pure as if she’d been reborn. And in a way, she had been.
“Lucian . . .” That was all she could manage. There were too many questions demanding answers.
He lifted one of his scarred hands and brushed his fingers along her cheek. Effie could feel the velvety drag of it deep in her core. Her breath stuttered out in a rush.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but first—”
She didn’t need him to finish his sentence. Effie was already leaning forward, pulling his face down to hers until their lips crashed together. Desperation fueled them, their kiss a mere echo of the all-consuming need thrumming through their veins.
Answers could wait.
She’d been trapped; a prisoner taken hostage by the darkest parts of her soul. Everything that made her whole had been stolen—her memories, her humanity, her love. But even then, even fac
ed with the monster she’d become, Lucian hadn’t given up. Instead, he gave her back everything that had been taken from her. In the wake of that truth, nothing else mattered.
Only Lucian.
Only this.
Lucian’s hands were everywhere: hauling Effie closer and pressing her body into his, running along the length of her back, diving into her hair. She was no better; the need to feel him—all of him—making her movements frantic.
He let out a low groan as she slid her hands beneath his tunic and scraped her nails up his stomach. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath the soft touch, but it still wasn’t enough. Distantly, Effie thought it may never be enough. Not when it came to him.
Effie’s breath came in little pants, her heart thundering as he tore his lips from hers and worked them down her neck. His lips reached her scar and hovered just above the surface, his breath puffing out in warm gusts.
“Don’t . . . you . . . dare . . . stop,” she gasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders.
Lucian’s answering laugh was primal, spiraling through her and calling to everything that was female inside of her. “I couldn’t if I tried,” he whispered, tracing the edges of her ear with his tongue.
“Good,” she managed, her voice breathless.
“I just need a second,” he said, giving her another skin-tingling kiss before pulling back.
He disentangled himself, grasping the discarded blanket from the far corner of the cell. Before she could ask what the hell he was doing when they were so clearly in the middle of things, Lucian’s eyes flared bronze and the dingy cloth transformed into a pristine blue quilt. He laid it on the ground beside her before leaning down to lift her in his arms.
“Where were we?” he whispered, carefully setting her down along the velvety surface, the soft down far more comfortable than the stone floor. She had to admit it was worth the delay.
