by Meg Anne
Knowing the only way to defuse him was to tell him the truth, Effie sighed. “He said ugly things. Nothing he hasn’t said before.”
A vein throbbed in Lucian’s neck, the only outward sign that he’d heard her. “What did he say?” His words were measured, soft. He could have been talking about the weather for all the emotion they contained.
Effie wasn’t fooled.
“He found out Smoke had replaced him as my tutor. As you might expect, it set him off. He told me I was being used, by both of you. That I willingly spread my legs for the first man to show me any sign of attention. That I was your whore.”
Effie braced herself for Lucian’s wrath, but it never came. She could feel it, the undercurrent of danger pulsing through the air, which caused the hairs along her neck and arms to stand on end, but he did not give into it.
Instead, Lucian moved into the center of the room until he was standing directly in front of her. He lifted a hand and ran his knuckles down her cheek.
Effie shivered, feeling the barely there touch in every part of her body.
“You are no man’s whore.” His voice was a deep growl; its intensity a sharp contrast to the gentleness of his touch.
“That’s what I said,” she murmured, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird within her chest.
Lucian ran a calloused thumb across her bottom lip in the ghost of a kiss. It was the only place he touched her, and she ached for more.
More pressure.
More contact.
More Lucian.
“Effie, you should know . . . if that’s all I wanted, if that was all this was, I’d have had you beneath me five times over by now.”
His eyes flicked up to hers then, the raw need shining there robbing her of breath and sending a flood of heat into her core.
“I’m afraid I won’t be satisfied with anything less than all of you.” His voice was a deep rasp, his emotion laid bare before her.
If there were any walls she’d still been clinging to, they crumbled. Decimated by his tender declaration. Of every reaction she could have foreseen, this hadn’t even been a remote possibility.
“I’m not going to settle for only getting to taste your body.” He leaned closer, his breath washing over her burning face. “Nor your heart.”
“What else is there?” she whispered, her body swaying closer to his as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
Lucian tipped her chin up, his eyes never once leaving hers. “Mortals believe that love can only be known once. If that is true, it is only because their lifespans rarely allow them to experience it more than once. As such, they mistakenly believe that this is all there is. That love is the deepest connection they can experience with another.
“Immortals know better. There is something more; a sharing of self so total that once experienced, it can never be undone. We refer to it as the fuj d’âme. A merging of souls.”
Effie was speechless. Lucian was generally a man of few words, but Mother’s tits did he know how to use them to devastating effect. Of course it would be all or nothing with him. He would hold nothing back, and he’d expect the same out of his partner—out of her.
Mother help her, but after hearing Lucian explain it, that’s what Effie wanted too. She wanted to know what it would be like to be with someone that completely. Not just loved by them, but a core part of who they were, as essential to them as the air they breathed. For Lucian to be that man—to be the one asking to have that kind of claim to her—it was more than she ever dreamed.
If the woman in her was drawn to him, so was the timid little girl. Lucian wouldn’t walk away; wouldn’t leave her behind because of some perceived fault. Not only would his honor never allow for that kind of betrayal, he could never be that cruelly dismissive of someone he claimed as his. Lucian would be hers just as much as she was his.
To belong to someone in that way . . . it was the ultimate lure to the broken, scared girl locked away inside of her.
“Okay,” she whispered, the word feeling inadequate, but it was all she was capable of.
Lifting on her tiptoes, Effie cupped his face and pulled it down so that she could brush her lips over his, hoping she could tell him with her kiss what she had no way of articulating with her words.
Lucian’s response was immediate, his lips sealing over hers as a low growl rumbled in his chest.
She expected urgency, but there was none of the frantic desperation of their kisses in the cave. He was savoring her; exploring her mouth as if he had nothing but time. His lips rubbed over hers as he nibbled and sucked—in no hurry to go further.
He might not be, but her need was an inferno inside her. It had been steadily building throughout the day, taking a brief hiatus after her confrontation with Kieran, but back now with a vengeance.
Lucian ran his hands through her hair, tangling his fingers in her curls and gripping just enough that she could feel the tug all along her spine and in that pulsing heat between her legs. He pressed another kiss against her tingling lips and pulled back just enough to meet her hooded gaze. Her heart was thundering so wildly she was certain he could hear it.
“You want to get out of here?”
Effie blinked, her mind muddled from his kisses. She wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly. “What?”
“Do you want to get out of here and go somewhere with me?” he repeated, a small smirk playing about his mouth.
She glanced at the bed not more than three feet away from them. Clearly, it wasn’t privacy he had in mind.
“Are you celibate?” she blurted, momentarily horrified by the thought she might have just tied herself to some kind of warrior monk.
Lucian’s eyes flared wide, and he roared with laughter, tears swimming in his umber eyes. “No! Mother, no, Effie,” he said between spurts of laughter. Still chuckling, he pressed another hot kiss to her mouth. “I just want to spend a night with you. One night where we can make the kind of memories that true intimacy is built on.”
Her disappointment evaporated as her heart somersaulted in her chest. That might be the only answer he could have given her that would allow her to forgive him for making her wait. Again.
A bit of coherency returned as she shifted her focus away from Lucian and her in bed. “That sounds wonderful, but can we afford to do that? With everything else going on, is it wise to take the afternoon off?”
“It’s not that much different than what you had in mind,” he teased, the bronze in his eyes glittering.
Effie blushed. “At least we’d be in the citadel if someone needed us.”
“Would you really want Kael to rush in while you’re crying out my name?” he purred, nipping her earlobe.
Her heart stuttered at the erotic image he painted in her mind. She could vividly imagine her nails raking over his back while he thrust deeply inside her, her back arching off the bed as she climaxed around every throbbing inch of him. Then she imagined Smoke rushing in and shuddered. Lucian had a point.
“You’re trying to kill me,” she muttered. “Aren’t you? This is some kind of sadistic game where you see just how far you can push me before I lose it completely?”
Lucian shifted to look at her once more, a smile softening the harsh lines of his face. “No. Not a game. I just want one night with you where the fate of the world isn’t hanging in the balance.”
She sighed, begrudgingly agreeing that it would be nice to spend that kind of time with Lucian.
“If it makes you feel better, our little trip serves the dual purpose of allowing me to perform a task for the Triumvirate, so it wouldn’t really be selfish or an afternoon off.”
Effie laughed and shook her head. “Fine. Where are we going?”
He gave her one of his enigmatic grins. “Do you want to come with me or not?”
“You know I do.”
“Then stop asking me questions and grab your boots.”
Rolling her eyes, she grumbled, “So bossy.” As she turned to obey, there was a
loud thwack. Effie jumped, her hands covering her ass as she gaped at Lucian. “Did you just spank me?”
“Want me to do it again?” Lucian winked, sending a surge of liquid heat through her.
Mother help me, I do. She couldn’t even fling a comeback at him, her mind lost to the idea. Effie’s cheeks burned as she struggled to stay focused on finding and lacing her boots. Lucian’s smoldering stare was doing little to help her.
“Need help?” he offered with feigned innocence when she dropped her lace for the second time.
She pointed a shaking finger at him. “You just stay over there, Monk. Not all of us have the same infernal control over our baser instincts as you do.”
Lucian smothered his laughter by covering his mouth with his hand.
She finished tying her boots and stood. “Alright, I’m ready.”
Lucian reached for her, and Effie danced out of his grasp. “Oh no, if I have to keep my hands to myself, so do you.”
Her Guardian scowled and dropped his hand.
Effie grinned with wicked glee. Finally, she wasn’t the only one battling her desire. This should be an interesting excursion.
I wonder which one of us will give in first.
Chapter 19
Lucian walked beside her down the twisted streets of the town, his hands clasped behind his back. Effie hadn’t had a reason to come back here since her unfortunate incident in the tavern.
“Does this place have a name?” she asked.
“Vil d’lume, the city of light,” Lucian answered.
Effie’s eyes roamed the silvery sheen of the buildings, loving how they sparkled in the afternoon sun. It was a fitting name. A feeling of peace settled in her chest, the contentment something she hadn’t experienced more than a handful of times in her life.
“It really is beautiful here,” she said with a sigh.
Lucian nodded. “In all my travels I’ve yet to find anything quite like the Keepers’ city. It’s a well-guarded secret.”
“I can understand why.”
As they moved further away from the citadel and into the actual heart of the city, the streets began to swell with people. All along the main street, shops were open, colorful items on display in their windows. The air was filled with the mouth-watering scents of freshly baked breads and fragrant spices.
Effie couldn’t help but notice the townsfolk giving her and Lucian a wide berth.
Lucian caught her slight frown. “It’s not their fault. I’ve acquired a bit of a reputation.”
She was used to being on the receiving end of sideways looks and thoughtless hatred. She’d had no choice but to learn how to ignore those who condemned anything different. So her reaction now, seeing that same ignorance thrown at Lucian, shocked her.
Her anger was swift, rising like a tidal wave ready to come crashing down on everything in its wake. She expected more of these people. How dare they condemn a man who’d spent his life protecting them.
Jaw clenched, she took a step toward a woman who had grabbed her son by the hand and pulled him across the street, making a sign to ward off evil with her other hand.
Lucian stopped Effie with a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” she insisted, giving the woman a dark look.
The woman blanched, tugging her son into a stumbling run behind her as she raced down the street.
“You deserve better than their ambivalence and definitely more than outright disrespect.”
Lucian rested his rough palm against her cheek. “So did you.”
Effie sucked in a harsh breath, his words soothing a decades-old ache.
“I’m lucky I have one as fierce as you ready to defend me,” he added with a slight smile.
She laughed at the absurdity of it. “As if you need anyone to defend you.”
“Need? Perhaps not, but it makes the gesture all the more meaningful. I cannot remember the last time someone was offended on my behalf. Especially over so slight a snub.”
“Yeah, well,” she said with a shrug, “I’ve learned from the best.”
Lucian chuckled, lowering his hand and holding it out to her. Effie wasted no time before weaving her fingers through his. Her earlier insistence had no place here. A public show of acceptance, of pride at walking beside the Guardian, was more important than any silly game she’d been playing. Let the others hold on to their ignorance. She’d defy them by openly flaunting her joy at being with him. They could choose hate, but she would choose love.
Every time.
Effie surprised him by pressing a kiss to the back of his scarred hand.
Lucian’s eyes were unreadable as he stared down at her, a subtle smile curving his lips. The moment stretched until a light breeze sent her curls flying into her eyes, breaking it.
“So, what do Smoke and the Mirrors want you to do while we’re here? Is there some dark and musty shop where a nondescript package will be waiting for us?” she asked.
“Nothing that exciting.”
“Why send you, then? I got the impression they only sent their Guardians on the most important tasks.”
Lucian lifted an amused brow. “Why can’t a perimeter check of the city be important?”
“Is that what we’re doing?” she asked, feeling a little letdown.
“More or less. These folks are under the Triumvirate’s care just as much as those dwelling in the citadel. I’m here to get a general feel for the city, ensure that the people are happy and things are continuing to run smoothly despite the chaos outside these metaphorical gates.”
“I still don’t see why you are the one given this task. Seems simple enough.”
Lucian shrugged. “Only a Guardian can see past the surface.”
“Ah, yes. That would be handy.”
He squeezed her hand. “Routine checks are essential. They can be the difference in whether we have warning of impending issues or not. It’s always better to be prepared.”
“I can’t imagine there are too many major crises that arise here,” she murmured, her eyes scanning the unguarded faces of people going about their day.
“Suppose it would depend on who you ask. People are people, everywhere you go. Petty crimes, domestic disputes . . .” Lucian trailed off to give her a pointed stare, “drunken debauchery.”
Effie’s cheeks warmed remembering her first night in the Pickled Piper. “There’s something to be said for knowing how to unwind,” she answered primly.
Lucian chuckled. “Does this mean you intend to continue your gambling career?”
Grimacing, she shook her head. “I don’t think I have what it takes to make a true go of it.”
He ran his thumb along the back of her hand, sending tingles racing along her skin. “Ah, I don’t know about that. Something tells me you are better at hiding your thoughts than most.”
“Maybe that was true once.”
“It’s not a skill easily forgotten.”
“Is it a skill?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Absolutely. Especially during negotiations or on a battlefield. The less your opponent can predict what you’re thinking, the longer you hold the upper hand.”
“Who knew?” she murmured, finding it ironic that a life of servitude and trying not to draw the attention of others would be such good practice.
Effie’s steps slowed to a crawl as her attention snagged on a painting in the window beside her.
It depicted a battle between three creatures Effie had only heard about in stories. In the center, a woman surged up out of the water, the bottom half of her tail coiling beneath her as water whipped around her like a cyclone. In the air, to her left, a dragon with blood-red scales spewed white-hot flames, turning the top of her water into mist. And on the land, to the right of them both, was a beast—his body both man and horse—his muscles bunched as he aimed his arrow at the dragon above.
The artist had managed to capture the intensity of the moment so perfectly, Effie could feel the
tension in the bowstring, the heat of the flame, the bite of the water. It was stunning.
“We can go inside,” Lucian drawled, when she had craned her neck back to keep looking as they started to pass it.
Giving him a wide grin, Effie rushed into the little shop. The walls were filled with similar paintings, the afternoon light glinting off them and making them come alive. Blinding seascapes, crumbling castles, a city in ruins—each painting was more achingly beautiful than the last. The artist’s attention to detail was unmatched. As her eyes darted hungrily from one to the next, she felt like she was stepping foot into a new world.
“Can I help you?” a sweet rasping voice called from the back of the shop.
So focused on a painting of the night sky, Effie jolted, lurching into the table behind her and sending the small odds and ends flying.
Wincing, she turned toward the shopkeeper in the back with an apology on her lips.
The older woman’s hands were raised. “There’s no need. My Angus does worse when he comes to visit. No harm done.”
Noting the paint stains on the lady’s fingers, Effie asked, “Are these your paintings?”
The shopkeeper let out a startled laugh, her eyes darting to Lucian who was hovering near the door. “Goodness, no.”
“You will have to pass on my love for the artist’s work, then. These paintings are exquisite, truly.”
Still looking at Lucian, a sly smile grew on the woman’s face. “Consider it done. Have you seen the rest of his work? Painting is the least of what he can do with his hands.”
Lucian let out a strangled cough, and Effie shot him a curious glance.
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been too distracted to get much further than these.”
“I don’t blame you, dear. He’s got raw talent, that one.”
Effie nodded her agreement, stooping to pick up a few hand-painted cards that had fallen to the floor. Each one was the size of her palm, the thick cardstock cool in her hand. The back of the cards were the same; each a deep green that brought to mind the forest floor, with metallic gold embellishments curling along the edges like flowering vines.
