Relief came first. Then elation, bright and tightly contained. I forced it down before it could spill.
I closed my eyes, feeling Alex’s weight in my mind, seated like a Buddhist monk—peaceful for now, silent, but capable of anything.
“Are you helping me?” I asked quietly.
Alex didn’t answer.
Ezra gripped my shoulders. “Quinn, who are you talking to?”
My eyes snapped open. Wrongness shimmered in the air, warping light, bending sound, pulling at my bones like a tide I couldn’t fight. I scampered backward and off the cot, only to bump into a hard desk. It took me a moment to recognize Horax’s office.
Of all the places to be, why here?
Another hot roll of wrongness washed across my skin. The same tug that made me move my hands from Brit’s chest to her abdomen pulled at me. When I didn’t move, the feeling urging me forward turned into a driving need. I stood and took an involuntary step toward the door.
Ezra put his hand out. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t touch me!” I froze, not wanting my destructive Majekah anywhere near him.
Pain flashed across Ezra’s gaze, but he lowered his hand.
Magic. Majekah. Pure power flowed along my back, begging me to go to something—or someone. The wrongness called to me like a siren. I took a step toward the door, and Ezra slid in front of me.
“You just woke up,” Ezra stated reasonably. “You’ve been unconscious for days. At least let Xan examine you first.”
I began to vibrate. I could actually see the small waves of crystal magic emanating from my skin as the world engulfed me with need.
“I have to go. I can’t wait.” I put my hand in front of my face. The room folded in on itself, colors bleeding inward until only my hand remained, and then the world snapped open somewhere else.
My heart raced. I’d teleported… by choice? By design? I didn’t know, but I would find out, later.
Professor Holiday’s sticky rose magic, the source of the wrongness, filled my nose and coated my skin. The late afternoon sun rode low in the drizzly sky. The energies of the world swirled past my hand. Despite every instinct telling me to drop it and keep moving forward, my logical mind froze.
Professor Holiday’s massive monster filled my memory. The knots of tangled wires, animal muscle, and lumpy, almost human appendages made my bones rattle.
Another boom shook the ground.
I didn’t want to find out what drew me to Professor Holiday. But it didn’t look like I was getting a choice. My throat locked, my heartbeat thundered in my ears, and every nerve screamed for me to run. Instead, I took one step forward.
Internally, I screamed.
Chapter 7
Cayden
TheAlununfoldedthroughXan’s eyes in flashes, bursts of gold between shadows; patterns snapping into focus before vanishing again. Wonder, frustration, and fascination tangled together as the years of his study bled into mine. It was still Xan, shirtless in the Alun, copying pictures like a madman, but I could see through his eyes and feel every reaction.
Years passed, and my obsession with the unknown room eased, along with my view of the magic it contained. Instead of searching for what I couldn’t understand, I accepted what I did and existed among the chaotic layers. I developed favoritepictures, like the little dog in the corner and the single line of pure ruby that glowed purple when mixed with my blue magic.
The final memory wasn’t just of Xan.
The channels of gold running through the Alun glowed, swirling together to create a shield that absorbed magic before safely sending it back into the currents of the world. The designs that had held me for years now wrapped themselves around Quinn, bending toward her like she was their center. Sweat clung to her temple, glittering on crystal-laced hair. She moved like she belonged here, and my body noticed her as fiercely as my magic did. She pursed her lips, tugged her tunic over her head, and leaned back on her hands, arching her back just enough to make the lace of her bra strain.
My dick instantly rose to attention as she leaned back on her hands, effectively popping her lace-clad chest. Hints of her nipples peeked out between interwoven threads. A bead of sweat ran down her navel. I recognized that bra. I knew how this ended.
I tore myself free of Xan before I became as hard as he’d been. My own memory of this started after her teleport, when she’d appeared in the library… and came apart in Rowan’s hands. Heat coiled low in my gut. I shoved it down hard. Focus. The floor was patterned, layered, and right there, beneath the gloss, something repeated.
I opened my eyes. Xan’s grip tightened on my shoulder. “What’s your name?”
