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.
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.