Page 89 of Immortal Burden

He’d broken through it.

I breathed a heavy sigh, then smiled over at him. “Nicely done.”

“Thank you,” he said, smirking back at me.

We both looked to Mia who stood there stock-still looking adrift.

The moment she realized our attention was drawn to her, she shot her head up.

Her eyes swam with emotion.

And then she turned and ran out of the room.

21

~Mia~

I finished buttoning my black dress pants, then snatched up my matching silk tank with the jeweled bust, trying to focus all my attention on the menial task—getting dressed without my magic.

It was a rarity for me because I saw doing it the mundane way as an unnecessary waste of time all the while I had a much faster alternative that could be accomplished by a literal snap of my fingers.

But right now I didn’t want to invoke my power.

In all honesty, I couldn’t stand the thought of it.

My magic had always been a comfort to me. A positive thing, something I’d taken pride in, something I’d valued dearly. It had always been an asset. Outside of pure Immortals, I was the most powerful magical being across the realms. I’d reveled in that title.

My responsibility as a Guardian had given me a life’s purpose. I was unbelievably accomplished at what I did and I took great pleasure in that.

Until my father had come to me and warned me that Draco was stirring from his slumber.

It was then that he’d told me about the Covenant and my duty. He’d revealed it as my apparent birthright.

But, in truth, it was nothing but a curse.

It threatened my agency in a profound way. Not only was I expected to connect with three beings physically, mentally, and emotionally, but I was also to bind myself to them. The sort of bond that couldn’t be undone. On top of that, to wield the power that was required of me, it risked me touching a darkness that could twist me beyond repair.

Due to my magical prowess and years of painstaking effort growing my knowledge base from a very early age, I was the one the magical community looked to for answers. I’d spent my life living up to that hard-earned reputation.

But lately, it felt like all I’d been doing was fumbling, like that image I’d cultivated, that persona I’d worn so well, was so close to shattering into a million unfixable pieces.

I just kept failing.

I’d failed to protect Ryker, causing him so much heartache instead. He’d been attacked by my father, then tortured through having his magic taken.

I hadn’t been able to pull intel on my strange and wholly unexpected connection to Jaxon. He was now suffering in sickness and I couldn’t go to him and heal him myself because of the block and the fact that my father was watching.

Being pulled into that phantasmal plane had been the final straw with me trying to hold it together. It had unsettled me, awakening feelings and desires in me that I’d held at bay for so long, not allowing myself to acknowledge, let alone to actually entertain.

And what had happened in my salon… it had left me absolutely mortified.

I’d opened myself up, exposed myself in so many ways… and it had all been forced.

A fucking spell. A twisted one at that.

I hadn’t seen through it, I hadn’t been strong enough. My mind hadn’t been strong enough. I’d fallen for it. It had made a victim out of me, something I absolutely abhorred. I couldn’t stomach it.

But I also knew that I didn’t have a choice.

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