Free The Red Queen by Meg Xuemei X Page B

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