Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“And that noble family you want to turn your nose up at kept you safe for centuries.” I shake my head. “I helped keep you safe.” I narrow my gaze at him. “You. Ajax and Talon and Zachariah and Saint and Samuel. All of you. We ensured no one found you, and trust me, plenty tried. I checked on your vitals and kept your fucking chamber clean, for fucks’ sake—”
“Annika,” he says my name with such a softness that it shakes the anger right out of me. He nods behind me and I follow his gaze.
The water in the glass is bubbling. No, it’s boiling.
I suck in a sharp breath, watching as it immediately goes still again.
“You feel that?” he asks.
I look back at him. He’s still sitting there so casually, totally unfazed by my outburst. I search inward, feeling a soft buzzing in the depths of my soul.
“Sort of?” I answer.
Did he rile me up on purpose?
“Good,” he says. “Hold on to that. Feel your power and guide it.”
“So simple.” I roll my eyes and right my chair before dropping into it.
“Nothing about power is simple,” he says.
Clearly. I’d been ready to send him flying across the room for his jab at my family. Does he really feel that way? Or was he trying to provoke me? With the way those blue eyes flicker with equal parts amusement and mischief, I’m banking on the latter.
I recenter myself, focusing on the liquid. The faster I learn how to control my power, the quicker I can be rid of these embarrassing lessons. That’s motivation beyond control, and I try my best to do what he says. Thanks to my experience with meditation, I’m able to focus inward a bit more.
From the anger moments ago, I can feel a thread of power pulsing through me like a signature sensation in my soul. It’s a low hum, a soft vibration that’s begging for attention, but it feels so far away. Reaching mentally, I do my best to grab that sensation and throw it at the water, picturing it boiling again. I visualize it sloshing over the crystal rim.
Nothing.
“Staring at it certainly isn’t working.” I blow out a breath. “How do you control water?” I ask.
Dagon cocks a brow at me, looking contemplative before he shifts his boots off the table. He slides out of his chair, slowly walking toward me.
I swallow hard, hating the way my body reacts to his nearness as he leans over me where I sit. God, he smells good, like ylang-ylang, amber, and blood oranges. I linger on every delicate note of that scent, the signature of it solidifying somewhere deep inside me.
“Tell me what you were doing last night.” His tone is a little lower than usual, and the question throws me. “When you turned your bathroom into Elsa’s palace.”
I snort at the Disney reference, then clear my throat.
“Nothing,” I answer a little too quickly.
It’s a lie.
I’d been doing…something very specific before I’d gotten out of the tub.
He tilts his head. “You were just standing in the bathroom and then out of nowhere you froze everything?”
I huff. “No,” I say. “I was taking a bath.”
“Obviously,” he says. “I’m glad you showed up with your clothes on today.”
Heat blazes across my cheeks.
“What were you thinking about when you were bathing?”
Is it possible to burst into flames from embarrassment? Because I’m pretty damn close. I press my lips together, silencing myself, but the memory floods me easily enough.
I’d been enjoying my bath in more ways than the warm water soaking my body. A burning tension had built in me until I couldn’t possibly do anything but release it. My mind had flashed forbidden images, fantasies I had no business having. A powerful touch. A searing kiss. Blue eyes and sly smiles—
Water bursts from the glass, splashing us both.
Dagon coughs out a laugh, standing up straight as he wipes the droplets off his face.
I hurry to do the same, completely mortified.
“Power is tied to emotions,” he says, and it’s a kindness he isn’t asking me to lay out the details on which emotion just took over. “Like anger,” he continues, tilting his head. “And…” He motions to me. “Whatever that was.”
I swallow hard. I’ll never admit what that was.
“That’s one of the reasons we’re not working with the river.”
I huff a laugh, some of my embarrassment waning. “Okay, what’s the other reason?”
“It’s currently filled with ice,” he says, taking the seat right next to me this time. “Last thing we need is you hurtling shards at yourself and lopping off a limb.”
“Ice can do that?” I ask, intrigued at the prospect. There have been enough enemy attacks lately that I know defending myself and my family is imperative. If I could fling ice through an attacker’s heart, I’d be an asset instead of a liability.