The Keeper's Retribution: A Chosen Novel (The Keepers Book 2)

by Meg Anne

  “He looks like he’s about two seconds away from murdering him,” Effie said, her heart rate increasing as Lucian landed another strike.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Kael said. “Just watch.”

  Ronan shuffled back, narrowly missing a kick to the side of his head, but Lucian was unfazed. As soon as his foot landed on the floor, Lucian leaped into the air, practically flying as he drew back his arm and landed a strike to Ronan’s chest with the flat of his hand.

  Ronan flew back, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

  “One,” Lucian said, landing and holding out a hand to help Ronan back up off of the mat. He didn’t even look winded.

  Wincing, Ronan rubbed his chest. “I thought we agreed not to use our power . . .”

  Lucian’s smile grew. “I’m not.”

  Grunting, Ronan moved back into position. “Again.”

  Effie squirmed, watching Lucian in action was doing something to her. She could feel the flush of desire heating her cheeks, and a dull ache was growing deep within her. Is it normal to get so turned on watching men fight?

  Missing none of her discomfort, Kael continued to snicker beside her. “I had no idea your bloodlust was so strong, little warrior.”

  “You can go sit somewhere else,” she bit out. “Preferably on top of your sword.”

  Kael threw his head back and laughed, causing Lucian to look toward them, one of his brows raised.

  It was the opening Ronan needed, and he didn’t waste it. He tackled Lucian to the ground.

  “One!” he crowed.

  Lucian bucked, and in one fluid move he threw Ronan from his body before flipping to a crouch and pinning Ronan with a knee on the chest. It happened so fast Effie wasn’t sure she was even tracking all of the men’s movements. One second Lucian was on his back, the next he was on top of Ronan.

  “Two,” Lucian smirked.

  “Fuck you, Guardian,” Ronan scowled.

  “Think I’ll pass, Shield.”

  Effie let out a soft moan, her eyes glued to Lucian’s ass as the leather-clad muscles flexed, giving her all sorts of delightful thoughts. Sweat trickled down her back and Effie’s mouth went dry. Mother save me. She was going to combust then and there if she didn’t get ahold of herself.

  Kael tossed his towel at her head, momentarily obscuring her vision.

  “Jerk,” she muttered.

  “Sorry, looks like you needed it. You’re leaving a puddle beneath you.”

  In horror, Effie checked her seat. There was no puddle.

  Kael was howling with laughter.

  She hit him, hard, her fist slamming into his shoulder.

  “I’ll bet if it was two topless women grinding on each other over there, you’d be the one requiring a towel.”

  “Without a doubt,” Kael agreed, his dimples flashing. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to miss this opportunity. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you.”

  “What side is that?”

  “Horn—”

  Effie bared her teeth at him. “You keep laughing and my next punch is going somewhere much lower.”

  Kael’s green eyes were twinkling, but he mimed buttoning his lips.

  While they’d been bickering, Lucian and Ronan had finished their match. Her Guardian was helping Ronan stand.

  Ronan shook his head. “You’ll have to show me some of those moves after I’ve nursed my wounds.”

  Lucian slapped his back. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “You ever get tired of working for those robed fuckers, you’re always welcome to serve with me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Lucian murmured.

  Ronan and Lucian continued their chat, but Effie was too distracted by Lucian’s body to pay attention. She tracked a bead of sweat as it rolled down his chest and over the planes of his stomach, her legs squeezing together to try and relieve some of the ache building in the core of her. Never had she had this kind of reaction to a man before, and certainly not just from watching him spar. What is wrong with me?

  “Who’s next?” Lucian asked, a towel slung around his shoulders.

  Effie licked her lips, ready to volunteer for damn near anything that would get her under him.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Kael pinched her and Effie flew up, shooting him a dark look.

  “I think our little warrior wants a go,” Kael said with a grin.

  “Is that so, fledgling?” Lucian asked, his own lips lifting.

  “I-I,” she stammered, her mind emptying of all thoughts except a sweaty Lucian pressed up against her.

  Her body’s response was immediate. There was no way she could try and fight Lucian right now. On her best day she would lose in two seconds flat, but today she was way too distracted to even try. With her luck, she’d forget people were watching them and start rubbing herself against him like some kind of cat in heat.

  “Gotta go,” she mumbled, turning and heading for the door.

  Kael’s laughter chased her as she fled.

  “Effie!” Lucian called after her, but she didn’t stop.

  Whatever was going on with her, whether it was her recent chat with Smoke putting ideas in her head, or simply just a woman’s natural response to a desirable man, one thing was clear: until she cooled off—and Lucian was covered up again—Effie couldn’t trust herself to be anywhere near her Guardian.

  Chapter 17

  Effie stormed out of the room, her heart still beating frantically. Once she was well away from the training room, and the men it contained, she stopped. Her hand came up to rest against her chest as her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Effie? Are you okay?”

  She jumped, the unexpected voice making her feel like she’d been caught doing something inappropriate. “Kieran,” she murmured. “What are you up to?”

  He cocked his head, studying her. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  “I was watching them practice,” she said, gesturing vaguely behind her.

  Kieran’s expression hardened. “I see.”

  They hadn’t been alone since Sylverlands, and Effie started to feel uncomfortable as the silence stretched between them. She missed the easy friendship they’d shared, even though she was still hurt by his cruelty. Not having had many friends, she cherished each one of them. She and Kieran may never be able to go back to the way things were before, but maybe they could find a new path.

  “Kieran—”

  “Effie—”

  They both broke off, laughing at the absurdity of the moment.

  Effie gestured for Kieran to go first.

  “When would you like to resume our training sessions?” Kieran asked.

  Effie’s heart dropped. The Triumvirate hadn’t told him he’d been replaced yet. So much for trying to keep it friendly.

  “Um, well . . .” Effie stumbled over her words, trying to find a gentle way to break the news. “After my last vision—”

  “The one in the cave?” Kieran asked, his voice holding a slight edge.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “We should get to work on deciphering it. We’ve already lost valuable time.”

  “Well, you see, the Triumvirate decided that I should start working with them directly.”

  A muscle twitched in Kieran’s jaw. “When did they decide this?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of what the vision contained.”

  As she’d answered his questions, Kieran’s eyes had darkened and his golden skin turned a deep, mottled red.

  “So you decided to cut me out completely, is that it?” he asked, his voice ugly.

  Any empathy she might have had vanished at the accusation. “It was their decision.”

  “But you didn’t fight them on it.”

  “Why would I? It is an incredible opportunity for me to learn. And besides, it’s ultimately their call. We answer to them.”

  “Oh, come on, Effie.
Spare me the good girl act. You do what you want and you damn well know it. No one has been able to talk any amount of sense into your entitled ass since you arrived.”

  Effie’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She knew he was still hurt that she changed her mind that night, but that didn’t mean she had to listen to him insult her.

  “Kieran,” she said, his name a warning.

  “No. I’m done listening to your excuses. All you do is make a mockery of my feelings by throwing yourself at the first man who shows you any modicum of attention. First the Guardian and now the Triumvirate. Don’t you know that they are only using you? You are a means to an end. None of them truly care for you. Not like I do.”

  It was a low blow. One that poked at every dark fear coiled in the recesses of her mind.

  “For someone who keeps claiming to love me, you sure seem to make a habit of calling me a whore,” she gritted out, anger churning within her.

  Kieran shrugged, his eyes glittering. “You know what they say, if she spreads her legs like a whore . . .”

  “How dare you!” She could barely see past her rage, the familiar taunt disarming her completely. “I am not any man’s whore!” she spat as she threw herself at him, her hands curled into claws as she aimed for his face.

  Kieran caught her wrists in a vice-like grip, roughly yanking her arms down before she could make contact. “Oh no? That’s not what it looked like in the cave when you let him put his hands all over you.”

  Effie struggled in his grasp, her hatred for Kieran growing with each spiteful word he uttered.

  “Has he made any promises to you? Claimed to feel anything for you?” Kieran’s voice dropped to a sneer. “Your grandmother would be so disappointed if she could see what a little slut you’ve turned into.”

  Effie brought her knee up, slamming it into his groin. Kieran dropped like a stone, his moans filling the hallway.

  “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I will gut you and not feel an ounce of remorse. Consider this your only warning.” Effie barely recognized the deep growl of her voice.

  She was shaking as she stalked away, a dark, violent part of her still demanding Kieran’s blood. It took more than it should have to keep moving forward and not go back and finish what she started.

  It was a good thing she didn’t have her blades; she very well may have stabbed him. Unfortunately for Kieran, with the way he’d been acting lately, Effie didn’t think anyone would mind if she had.

  Kieran cursed himself as he hobbled down the hallway. His anger had gotten the better of him, but it couldn’t be helped. Being Effie’s tutor was the last claim he’d had to her. Without the position to force her to spend time with him, Kieran was out of opportunities to convince her to reconsider.

  An empty void opened up inside of him, claiming any last shred of his sanity. Effie was all he had left. He’d given up everything—his family, his title, his home—to find her. He couldn’t lose her now.

  Which meant there was only one avenue left to him. It was time to move to phase two.

  Kieran barreled through another hallway, seeking out the forbidden room that had become his sanctuary. He needed to find the book containing the reference to the TMJ prophecy.

  His last attempt at forging a marker had backfired spectacularly. He never got his opportunity to play the hero—by dragging out the mangled corpse of a caebris he’d hidden under a nearby bush. His plan to “slay” it while the others were distracted investigating the corpses had been foiled by those damn flying cats.

  Kieran had never seen anything like them before. Their arrival had been a total coincidence. How they’d managed to show up in the exact location of his trap, he had no clue. Given that they came from above, it stood to reason that they could move widely unhindered through the treetops. Kieran could only assume they’d come from the part of the jungle that had already fallen to the corruption.

  He had been starting to worry that the others were onto him when they’d pointed out how the animals appeared to have been slaughtered in their sleep. So if nothing else, the presence of the furred creatures had given his massacre authenticity, even if he hadn’t planned on their ambush.

  But that was the least of his worries.

  People were supposed to be in a panic at the arrival of the next marker. As far as he could tell, no one had even realized he’d recreated one. Either the Triumvirate hadn’t been familiar with the passage containing the bit of prophecy he’d staged, or—and perhaps more likely—he’d missed an important component.

  Kieran let out a snarl of frustration, his anger beginning to simmer once more.

  His father always said revenge was essential; it taught your enemies not to repeat their trespasses. But this wasn’t mere revenge; it was retribution. A justified act of vengeance to help him reclaim what rightfully belonged to him.

  No one would stand in his way. Not Effie with her misguided notions and certainly not some immortal bastard who was trying to steal what was his.

  The next time Kieran laid a trap the only one saving the day would be him, and if that meant removing the Guardian from the playing field permanently . . . so be it.

  Chapter 18

  Effie was still fuming when she left the bathing chamber. Originally she’d thought a long soak might be a way to temper her unexpected ardor, but after her run-in with Kieran in the hall, she just hoped it would help her relax.

  She’d gone so far as to make the water as cold as she could stand, hoping the near-freezing bath would cool her residual anger, but Kieran’s words had burrowed deep and she was struggling to shake their hold.

  “Why do you let him get to you?” she chided, opening the door to her room and coming to a stumbling halt.

  Lucian was sitting on her bed, his elbows resting on his thighs and his head bowed. He looked up at her entrance, his eyes moving from the tips of her bare toes, up her equally bare legs, and coming to rest on the hand clutching the towel closed at her chest.

  Effie’s heart lurched, the sight of her Guardian momentarily distracting her. He looked damn good on her bed. For a second, Effie entertained the idea of letting her towel drop and crossing the room to join him.

  Her Guardian cleared his throat and looked up at her with stormy eyes. The heat she saw there seared her, and the cold water dripping down her arms and back was suddenly refreshing.

  “Do you often walk around the citadel in your towel?”

  Effie shook her head, sending icy drops flying.

  Because her visit to the bathing chamber had been unplanned, she hadn’t brought a spare set of clothes. She’d left the ones she’d been wearing behind to be laundered, and risked returning to her room in a towel, not expecting to run into anyone in the hallway. Effie hadn’t counted on someone waiting for her inside her room.

  “That’s a shame,” he murmured, his lips twitching.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. The effect he had on her was absolute, and he wasn’t even touching her. What will it be like when he finally gives in?

  “I came to find out why you bolted from our training session. When you weren’t here, I decided to repay your snooping with a little of my own.”

  Effie glanced around the tidy suite, not seeing anything out of place. “Find anything good?”

  Lucian shrugged. “You going to tell me what you were ranting about when you walked in here?

  “You going to turn around like a gentleman while I get dressed?” she countered.

  A flicker of bronze burned in his eyes as Lucian slowly pushed to his feet. He held her gaze for one long heartbeat before purposefully turning around and staring at the ceiling.

  Effie stared at Lucian’s back, something warm unfurling within her and breaking through her lust-filled daze. She knew he craved her; she could see it plainly enough when he looked at her. But no matter the depth of his desire, Lucian made it clear with each thoughtful action that he wasn’t about to take advantage of her.


  The revelation only made Effie want him more. For most of her life, Effie had been at the mercy of people who didn’t bother to consider her or her wishes. She’d had no idea how potent it could be to be treated as an equal. As a person whose thoughts and feelings held value. She was as drawn to Lucian’s thoughtfulness as she was his strength. He was the kind of man she would never have to fear.

  Not with her body, and not with her heart.

  Lucian was a man she could love without having to hold anything back.

  Effie knew then that being with Lucian would not be as simple as falling into bed. Being his would demand everything. It would simultaneously destroy and rebuild her. She would never be the same again.

  The thought should have terrified her, but it didn’t. Effie couldn’t recall a single thing she’d ever looked forward to more in her entire life.

  Blinking rapidly, trying to clear her mind, Effie moved to her trunk and selected a random pair of pants and a tunic. She turned away from Lucian and quickly pulled on the garments.

  “Why do I get the feeling you weren’t talking about me?” Lucian surprised her by asking.

  “Because I wasn’t,” she said, fastening the last of her laces and turning back to him. “You can turn around now.”

  Lucian did, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. “So, what happened?”

  “Who happened,” she corrected.

  “Kieran,” he answered darkly, every ounce of playfulness draining away.

  Effie dipped her chin in a nod.

  “Did he lay a finger on you?” Lucian asked, his voice savage.

  Effie made a show of inspecting her fingernails. “More like the other way around.”

  Lucian was not soothed by her confession. If anything, his anger swelled, filling the room with its force.

  “What did he do?”

  “What he does best,” she answered evasively.

  “Effie . . .”

  Her eyes snapped up to his face. If she hadn’t spent so much time with him, she might have missed the subtle details signaling Lucian’s descent into that feral part of himself. She’d recognized the visceral, untamed part of his soul when he’d faced off with Ronan, and she saw hints of it again now. A sort of madness swirling within the depths of his eyes.