No longer moving, Quinn’s big yellow hoodie came out of her pocket-void and completely covered her cross-legged body. Along with it, she pulled out a simple heat stone.
I mimicked her seated position, making sure our knees almost brushed. Magic heated my blood. I didn’t need a shirt…
“I guess I just do this,” Quinn muttered, stealing another glance at my abs before licking her lips. “Can you heat -er- the rock for me?”
I suddenly wished I had my lover’s mind-reading abilities. I could heat many ‘things’ for her. Was herera stumble of attraction, or had she forgotten the name of the ‘heat stone’ and only come up with rock? I hoped it was the former, but the realization made my gut clench… Did my lover want her? Or want me to want her? The questions killed the playful spark trying to rise in me.
I sent magic into the ‘rock,’ and heat radiated off of it.
Without a word, Quinn reached forward and placed a single finger on it. There was no physical cue; her Majekah simply flowed. The rock crumbled into its base components, and a tiny, indistinct opal dragon, no bigger than a mouse, appeared in her hand.
The creature squeaked once and looked up at her with adoring little eyes sparkling with crystal rainbows. Quinn’s jaw dropped, and she pinched herself, as if making sure she wasn’t dreaming.
Tiny, perfect, and doomed. The way every miracle in my hands seemed to be.
“I don’t understand.” Quinn stopped pinching herself to give the creature a little pat on the head. “He’s smooth, like scales.”
I had no answer. Fear sank; I was out of my depth.
My Majekah awakened out of necessity, and I harnessed it through raw need. My lover was the teacher, not me. Words weren’t my strength. I couldn’t risk making it worse.
“Neither do I.” The words tasted like failure; I was supposed to have answers. “Energy exists. It’s human disruption that changes it and gives it purpose.”
Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. “I didn’t try to make a dragon. I didn’t try to do anything.”
I reached forward, scaring the little dragon, who dove off her hand. The moment it hit the Alun floor, the magic of the room pulled, absorbing it back into the world.
Quinn’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t real?”
We’d both seen her touch it. Again, I was out of my depth. This wasn’t the first time she’d done this. The flash of black I’d seen when her placement pebble exploded had been the same.
She needed my lover.
I continued reaching forward, and my palm came to rest on her knee. Her warmth bled through cloth and control alike. I didn’t move. Xan had never shown interest in a woman before, whereas I was equally attracted to both genders.
Was I the reason he hadn’t reached out?
“You’re unique, Quinn. This is why you will study with the Architect. He understands magic. He will help you,” I promised.
But if he didn’t, if he turned her away, I didn’t know what it would do to either of us.
I promised what I couldn’t guarantee, because the only thing more dangerous than his magic was what I felt when she looked at me.
Chapter 7
Alexander
Ilayinbed,wide awake despite the early hour. Ezra’s even breaths were barely audible at my side. In the pitch black, I couldn’t make out the squares of gold and black he hung on our ceiling.
My mind spun with my failures.
I still hadn’t met Quinn.
As much as I wanted to blame my work or Ezra’s quiet moodiness, I couldn’t.
It was me.
I was a mentalist. Any mind within a hundred and fifty feet was mine to influence, if I so chose. The Architect wasn’t just who I was; he was who I had to be. A persona built to protect others from me… and me from them. But behind that title was still a man, one who wished, more than anything, to live in a world where people didn’t flinch at what he could do. Where power didn’t decide your worth, and being seen didn’t mean being feared.
