Shit.
Ezra’s right.
What happened with Jameson will haunt me for the rest of my life, but gaining control over my own powerful magic would allow me to take back some of what he ripped away.
I can protect myself. Maybe even the people I care about. But only if I can control this power—before it controls me.
That’s assuming I ever make peace with the magical bitch still muttering in the corner of my mind.
I refuse to let the trauma win.
Let Jameson win.
Let the Disciples win.
Hell, let the magic win.
“I guess I could call Eve and ask for a few more days off. Maybe tell her I’m still struggling with the attack. I just hate lying to her.”
It’s not exactly a lie.
I’m going to struggle for the foreseeable future. But Iwasready to go back to work. Plus, I’ve lied to Eve about almost everything this week, and the resulting guilt pokes at the bugs still slumbering under my skin.
I absentmindedly chew on the inside of my cheek while I consider my options.
“Well, excellent. No need to lie. I already handled it,” Ezra says with a smug look on his face. “Eve said to take all the time you need.”
“Ezra! What the fuck? You can’t call me off work because it suits you. Iliketo work and spend time with Eve.
“I know you’re right, and if you took the time to discuss it with me, I would have called myself. You can take control in the bedroom, Ezra, but out here? We’re partners. You promised you’d help me find my power, not take it away from me!”
Ezra’s shadows jolt, freezing mid-slither, completely caught off guard by my anger. One curls defensively around his wrist. Another pulses at my hip, bracing for a fight.
I’m so pissed I’m yelling—something I almost never do—when hellfire explodes from my skin.
“Oh, fuck. Shit.”
This is so embarrassing. The flames won’t go away.
I even swallow my pride and ask Emme for help. But the cunt just sits in the dark recesses of my mind and giggles.
Whatever. I’ll figure it out myself.
When I look up from my blazing hands, Ezra’s eyes narrow, his mouth pressing into a tight line.
Not angry.
Not even defensive.
Just … processing. Trying to figure out how we got here.
Stifling a chuckle, I walk over to Ezra and wrap my arms around his waist. My hellfire quickly engulfs him, eagerly igniting his tall frame.
“Don’t be upset, Ezra. It’s important you realize that I have my own voice, and I intend to use it. I want to discuss things like this, not be told what to do. I’m sorry I yelled.”
I lay my head on his chest and listen as his rapid heartbeat eventually slows.
“I’m the one who should apologize, Aurora. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I didn’t know calling Eve was the wrong thing to do. I will not let it happen again. At least we know anger is a trigger for your hellfire. The more pressing issue is how to stop it. Manipulating it can come later,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
