by Meg Xuemei X
“Chief McQuillen,” Ziyi rushed toward Kian with a wince, “can you stand? She didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Kian was up in a second, waving the girl away. There was no anger in his hard sapphire eyes, but a mosaic of sadness, pride, and heaviness.
“I wouldn’t really hurt Kian,” Lucienne said. “I love the man. I just need to show him my power, so he won’t always stand in my way. However,” she turned to point two fingers at Vladimir and Ashburn, “these two show me no respect.” She watched their disagreeable expressions. “Have you seen the looks they just give me? They talk about teaching each other a lesson. Now they’re going to learn that lesson for their insufferable arrogance.” Slowly she pulled a hunting knife out from her boot. “But which one should I stab first?” Her gaze flickered from Vladimir to Ashburn, back and forth.
They stared at her grimly.
“Ziyi,” Lucienne called, “I’m having a hard time here. You’re my genius. Help me decide.”
Ziyi scrambled to Lucienne’s side in her stilettos, but kept a safe distance. “Stabbing is no fun. What about slapping them? It’s more insulting.” She made a dash toward Vladimir. “I really want to slap this one.”
Vladimir grabbed Ziyi’s wrist in the air.
“Play along,” Ziyi hissed at the Czech prince.
“I don’t care,” Vladimir said. “No one slaps me, not even her.”
“You’d rather be stabbed?” Ziyi hissed.
“You know, I have super hearing.” Lucienne shifted her attention toward them. “And good job, Ziyi. You just helped me find my target.” She stalked toward Vladimir, eyeing the scimitar in his hand.
Vladimir tossed his sword at her feet as he held her gaze. “I’m yours,” he said. “Do whatever you want with me.” He shoved off his leather jacket, flung it away, and tore open the black shirt that hugged his torso, exposing his bare, hard-muscled chest before her.
Lucienne stared at it for a long moment. It would be nice to lay her head on that chest. Vladimir rasped under the weight of her examination. He was turned on by her, but she wouldn’t be seduced. She removed her gaze from his chest and peeked into his hazel eyes. They weren’t as bright as she’d remembered. Anguish dulled them. Who caused such tremendous pain in him? But under its dark layer was an ocean of tenderness and love.
This one had a great capacity to love, and no amount of ache could kill it. Was that love for her or for someone else? It couldn’t be for her. He knew she wanted to knife him. A pang of jealousy struck Lucienne, and she didn’t expect that. She looked down at her knife, its tip pressing against his heart.
Kian moved toward them. “What are you doing, idiot?” he snarled at Vladimir.
“I need her to see the truth about herself.” Vladimir sent out a warning look: do-not-interfere. “When she does, she’ll make a comeback.”
What truth? She didn’t know the truth. They must have kept it from her. Anger spiking in her, Lucienne slowly sank the sharp tip of the blade toward Vladimir’s heart. It punctured his skin, drawing a sequence of droplets.
Red excited her. Two more inches, and the blade would pierce the warrior’s heart. She could almost hear it fluttering, like a bird’s struggling wings. Lucienne peeped into his darkened eyes again, expecting to see his sizzling hate beneath the pain, but all she saw was unfaltering, undying love.
This boy allowed her to take his life. His vow to her rang in her ears, “I’ve given you my heart and I’ll never take it back. I’ll never love another except you.”
She had a vague feeling that if she cut out the heart of this boy, it would be the end of her as well. The dagger in her hand became an unbearable burden. Her hand haltered.
But Forbidden Glory didn’t particularly care for the affair of the heart. It spurred her, demanding a blood sacrifice. Since he’s given you his heart, it’s yours to take. The sacrifice of a great love will make us stronger.
She’d been weak, she knew. She must be stronger if she wanted to survive. Fluttering her eyelids shut and feeling the ache in her own heart, Lucienne drove the knife toward Vladimir’s.
“Lucienne Lam!” Kian grabbed her wrist above the knife.
She turned to Kian, the mad gleam in her eyes reflected in his. Was that how they saw her? But that wasn’t really her. A trace of regret and bitterness and shame came over her.
“My power wants him. I was poisoned because of him.” With that knowledge, anger returned. “Didn’t I tell you not to get in my way, Kian McQuillen?” Her free hand shoved Kian’s chest with the power of Forbidden Glory.
Kian staggered back. “Lucienne, stop this madness!”
How she hated the word madness. “All of you hate him, and many of you want him dead,” she said. “Now I’m doing what you wish, and all of a sudden, you want me to stop it. Make up your minds.”
“It’s not for his sake,” Ashburn said. “It’s for yours.”
“For my sake?” Lucienne snorted. “How sweet. Let’s see what I’ll do for my sake.” Their disapproval only irked her. She wouldn’t allow them to shame her. Seething, she twirled the knife in her hand, its tip pressing against Vladimir’s skin again, at the same spot where his blood had streamed, ready to drive home into his heart.
“Go ahead, miláček,” Vladimir said. He didn’t flinch.
Miláček meant sweetheart in Czech. It was his term of endearment for her.
A feeling, unfamiliar and overwhelming, travelled through her. It confused her. Was that how it felt to be touched by love? Lucienne drew a shattered breath. Her hand shook pathetically. She was sweating. The hilt of the knife grew slippery and heavy in her hand.
“We’ll have to use a tranquilizer,” Kian said, his voice pained.
“Absolutely not!” Ashburn countered. “She might not come back this time.”
“She’ll be lost forever if she recovers and learns she killed the Czech idiot,” Kian said.
They were openly planning to sedate her. Lucienne let out an icy laugh. “Try it, and I’ll show you—”
Then, an unseen shock wave—sweet and seductive—reached her. Ashburn jogged toward her, his hands aloft to show he was unarmed. His desire for her in his silver eyes sent a pleasant chill throughout her body. “Siren,” he said humbly, “I—we surrender to you, completely.”
Finally they got it. A smile of relief grew on Lucienne’s face, and her gaze grazed over Ashburn, as if truly seeing him for the first time. She was no longer interested in taking the Czech prince’s heart.
Forbidden Glory grunted. She ignored it. She decided to satisfy herself first, with Ash. His nearness sent her a wave of electric pleasure—the Lure now battling Forbidden Glory—but the angel’s Glory wouldn’t give up easily. Conflicting energy and emotions, different in nature and temper, twirled in Lucienne like cyclones.
Fury, pleasure, love, and hate.
“They’re tearing me apart,” she moaned, then screamed, “Stop!”
Time stopped for her. And the world switched back.
For a moment, she was disoriented. Until she saw blood streaming from a hard, bare chest, a blade pressed against it—she was the one who held the knife still dripping Vladimir’s blood.
She immediately released the weapon. It clattered to the ground harshly. She looked up at Vladimir’s face in horror. He gazed back at her, a mosaic of emotions in his hazel eyes—pain, love, and triumph.
Shaken and nauseated, she looked down at her white dress. She blinked vacantly, then blinked again. Everything instantly came back to her, making her relive the nightmare. No, she was the nightmare.
She looked frantically around her. Vladimir. Ashburn. Ziyi. Her guards. Kian. They stared back at her, then called her all at once.
“Lucia?”
“Láska?”
She dropped her gaze toward the ground. She was a monster. She couldn’t face them. She could never look into Vladimir’s eyes again. Not Kian’s. Not anyone’s.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t hear her own whisper. Sh
e couldn’t beg forgiveness. Only shame, agony, and fear drenched her, dragging her down toward the deepest pit. This time she was going down alone.
“It’s okay now, kid.” Kian’s exhausted voice brushed past her. “You’re fine. We’re fine.”
She wasn’t fine. Neither were they. They’d never be fine.
The sky was falling.
The earth moved beneath her feet. The ground opened up. Let it swallow her whole and never return her bones.
Falling through space, she lifted her gaze toward the light far above. She saw Kian reaching a hand toward her, his eyes glowing with warmth, as if it were reserved for her forever.
She knew she didn’t deserve it, but she stretched her hands up toward him, like the baby she was when Jed had brought her to the Red Mansion. And when she’d spotted Kian, she drew out her chubby arms toward him and chose him to be her ultimate protector.
“Help me, Kian.” She heard her broken voice.
Before Kian caught her, Lucienne blacked out.
CHAPTER 4
CONFESSION OF LOVE
Lucienne’s breathing evened out when she saw herself in a white sleeping gown.
The sun settled into late afternoon. The curtain was half-closed. A man slouched in a chair near her bed, his clean-cut head buried in his big, calloused hands.
“Kian,” Lucienne whispered.
He popped open his eyes, raised his head, and sent her a warm smile. “Hey, kid. Didn’t know you were awake.” He twisted open the lid of a bottled water and handed it to her, as if knowing her throat was parched. She drank the water in gratitude.
For the first time, the guards weren’t hovering in the sitting room. She was alone with Kian. She put down the water bottle, now half empty, on the ivory bedside table and regarded him. His eyes were bloodshot. Unshaven stubble made his face look rougher. In his mid thirties, he already had gray hair mixed among the brown strands.
“You’re a mess,” she said.
“You’re no better.” He gave her another smile.
“It’s getting worse,” she admitted. “I think I’m losing it.”
“You’ll hang in here,” he ordered.
She shook her head. “I can’t grasp reality. I can’t get hold of myself anymore. The last person I can trust is myself. I hurt everyone, and I’ll hurt them again. I could never imagine I’d hurt you if it hadn’t happened.”
“But you didn’t,” he said. “You only threw me out of the way. It’ll pass, kid. We’ll get through this.”
“No,” she said. “I knew you and the generals were having a meeting about me when I stormed into your office. The men are right to worry about Sphinxes’ future.”
“You’re still the heart and soul of Sphinxes. Its future lies with you.”
“Blind loyalty won’t get us anywhere,” she said. “We need to face reality, especially you. I’ve become a danger to everyone and everything we’ve built.”
“So you just quit?” He sounded like he wanted to shoot someone.
“I’m not quitting,” she said, “but this battle I’ll have to fight alone.”
“You’re not alone! You’ll never fight alone.”
“Kian, our army can’t fight my war. Not this time,” she said. “You have no idea of the dark place I’ve been. Even you can’t go with me. No one can. I’d rather go down alone than drag you all down with me.”
“The day you arrived at the Red Mansion, our fates were already tied together. You were just an infant in my arms biting me, but I knew you’d be at the center of this war. I’ve never regretted choosing to serve and protect you. You gave my life purpose that day.”
Kian had been orphaned at seven years old. He’d watched his parents being slaughtered. Jed found him two days later, took him in as his own son, and gave him the best military training. Kian took off to track down his enemies. Half a year later, he returned with a bullet in his gut and a knife wound stretching from his left shoulder to his chest. News broke out the next day that a notorious gun smuggling lord and four of his bodyguards had died horrendous deaths. At thirteen, Kian had taken them out single-handedly.
He’d never been gentle and warm to anyone until baby Lucienne had clutched his face in her chubby hands and called him “Kia.” That had been her first word. She’d also left her teeth marks in his chin. The power inside her had struck him, and Kian had been the first to recognize her as the true Siren. Their bond had been unbreakable since then.
“You sink, I sink with you,” Kian said, “but I won’t let you fall.”
Lucienne gave him a long look. “Fine. But leave the men out of our struggle.”
“That I can arrange,” he said. “And kid, just so you know, this is just another battle we fight to win.”
“And just so you know, we no longer fight the enemies we can see. We’re fighting me. A war you and I might not win.”
“Only when you surrender.”
“I promise you I won’t. But I’ll relieve everyone around me, so they won’t be in harm’s way. There will be no house duties either, not even for Aida.”
“That’s a bit extreme, kid.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“How about we give them a choice? If they choose to leave, then that settles it.”
“You know they’ll never choose to leave.”
“Then you’ll be insulting them by forcing them to abandon you.”
“I’m doing this for their good.”
“Let them decide what’s good for them.”
“Neither Vlad nor Ash should come near me again. I almost killed one of them.”
Just then, Ashburn trudged in with a glass of almond milk.Why did everyone assume she should drink milk?
Kian also frowned at Ashburn. “I clearly told everyone, including you, not to disturb us.”
Ashburn must have been watching them through the live feed of Kian’s memories. “I have something important to share.”
“I hope Blazek won’t pop up in the next second and make this a circus show again,” grunted Kian.
“He’s in the medical center,” Ashburn said. “Duncan dragged him there.”
Her knife had brought him there. Lucienne’s stomach twisted in nausea and pain. She needed to check on him as soon as her companions left, even though she was too ashamed to face her Czech prince.
“That’s what you wanted to share?” Kian flicked his gaze from Lucienne’s anxious expression to Ashburn’s hopeful look.
“I couldn’t care less about Blazek.” Ashburn turned to Lucienne. “I’ve been replaying the fighting scene from different angles, and I found something more about your lapse this time.”
Kian and Lucienne stared at him.
“It wasn’t the insane you who hurt the Czech,” Ashburn said.
“Spit it out,” Kian ordered. “These boys always talk like a clogged pipe.”
“If you hadn’t cut him off,” Lucienne said, “he’d probably have finished his sentence.”
“Lucia, did you summon Forbidden Glory when you fought us?” Ashburn asked. “You couldn’t be that powerful without it. You couldn’t have defeated both Blazek and me at once. You threw Mr. McQuillen into the air by simply raising your hands.”
Remorse hit her anew at the memory of hurting them, but Kian squeezed her shoulder to assure her that he didn’t hold a grudge.
“I called for my power,” she said, “and it responded strongly.”
“That’s what I thought,” Ashburn said. “Don’t use it again before the poison is out of your system. It once helped you defeat your cousin when you were at the Red Mansion, but it almost controlled you. Your power acted erratically because of its lack of aether. Now, with the last element back but contaminated, Forbidden Glory is crippled. It can’t connect to reason. When it manifested, it switched on your insanity, and the poison of Blood Tear makes you too weak to tame it. Forbidden Glory will take you over if you summon it again.”
“Stay away from it!” Kian ordered Lucienne.<
br />
“Promise you won’t use it again under any circumstances,” Ashburn said.
“If you promise not to pick a fight with Vladimir again,” she said.
“I’ll restrain from provoking him,” Ashburn said, “and I won’t give in to his taunts.”
Kian gritted his teeth. “Upset her again, and you’re off Sphinxes forever.”
“Yes, sir,” Ashburn said. “You don’t need to worry about that. Blazek doesn’t exist. He’s dead to me.”
Hadn’t he just promised he wouldn’t upset her? Lucienne opened her mouth, but insurmountable exhaustion swept over her. Her heavy eyelids pressed together. She didn’t fight it, knowing she was safe among her protectors.
When she awoke at midnight, her first thought was of Vladimir. She was supposed to visit him in the medical facility in the castle, but fatigue and shame had conquered her. She needed to see him now, to see that he was safe. No matter where he was, she’d seek him out.
As soon as she stepped out of her bedroom, Duncan rose from a chair in the adjoining sitting room. Relief washed over his face when he saw her white gown. “Lucia,” he asked with concern, “you need anything? I’ll fetch it for you.”
“Where’s Vladimir?” she asked.
Duncan hesitated for a second and said, “On the roof.”
“Thanks,” she said and scrambled along the hallway toward the stairs.
Duncan didn’t object, but trailed after her. He’d followed her for years. He’d fought with her in many battles. He guarded her with his life but treated her more like a fellow warrior than fragile china, and she appreciated that.
On the rooftop, the starlight silhouetted a lone figure. The ocean wind flapped the corner of Vladimir’s black trench coat. Lucienne loved to come here at night to search for a possible new home in the sky. Was her sanctuary also becoming the Czech prince’s new haven? She didn’t mind sharing it with him. They hadn’t been alone since she’d returned from the Sealers’ temple. Ashburn and Kian had made sure of that.
Ashburn wasn’t around now. He must be sleeping. God bless his sleep. He needed it, and she needed this alone time with her Czech boyfriend.
