Several minutes pass without any success.
“I don’t get why I’m so bad at this,” I mutter, frustration creeping into my voice. “I can harness so easily now. But unless there’s some urgency to the situation, I can’t incite.”
“Like when you saved Declan.”
“IthinkI saved him,” I correct, because I’m still not entirely sure whether I incited Declan to jump off his motorcycle before the force field collision, or if it was his own self-preservation instincts finally kicking in. “But maybe I didn’t.”
Hawkins’s expression is one of mild amusement, like he’s watching a child trying to lift something heavy. “Your problem is, you’re always trying to force it. You try to use the gold like it’s a sledgehammer. But it’s more delicate than that. It’s like guiding a current. You need to be subtle with it, not forceful.”
I clench my teeth. “I’m trying. It’s not my fault I suck at it.”
“It is one hundred percent your fault.” His words aren’t light and joking. They’re harsh and rude, because that’s who Hawkins is. “Do it again.”
Centering myself, I harness again, gathering those wispy threads of energy until I feel them consuming me.
“Pick up the knife.”
Gentle,I remind myself.
“Pick up the knife.”
Guide the current, don’t force it.
“Pick up the knife.” I gently push the command into Hawkins’s mind.
His hand twitches.
Holy shit. It’s working.
“Pick up the knife.”
Another twitch. His fingers spasm slightly.
“Too gentle,” Hawkins scolds. “I said subtle, not weak. Don’t be fucking weak.”
I swallow my resentment. God, he’s such a prickhole.
“Pick up the knife,” I order, sharper this time.
Hawkins’s hand jerks. My temples begin to throb from the mental strain, but I don’t let that discourage me, because that means it’s working. I’m slipping past his defenses, getting closer to capturing his will.
“Pick up the knife.”
His hand moves, just an inch off the ground, before it drops abruptly. My head throbs harder.
“You’re back to forcing it, Darlington,” he says in rebuke. “It’s a balance. You don’t dominate it. You encourage it.”
I blow out a frustrated breath, severing the connection. “I’m done. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. If you can incite Declan, then you can incite me.”
“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. The order is penetrating your mind, but why do I lose control so fast?”
He rolls his eyes at me.
“What?” I say defensively.
“Incitement isn’t about the order. It’s about maintaining a connection. Right now you send the signal and then wait for it to respond. You need to learn how to hold it open, to be able to move along with the current. Don’t just incite me. Follow through with the command.”
