Page 49 of Magic's Dawn

“I’ve been questioning that since the day you arrived.” I push to my feet and stumble when my numb legs take a second to get with the vertical program. “You were sent here to help teach me, but all you’re doing is telling me to sit and breathe!”

Pink tints his cheeks, and he takes a step closer. “If you actually wanted to learn, I’d have something to teach you! But you discount my lessons at every turn! Meditation is a time-honored practice for every young witch to learn. Balance within brings balance without. But you can’t even manage that much!”

“Whoa, there.” Tris bursts through the plastic curtain, his eyes shifting between us. “Aspen, give her a break. Not all of us are naturals like you.”

Irritation twists Aspen’s features. “I’m trying to teach her the basics. If she can’t grasp this, then she’ll never learn to channel her magic effectively.”

My frustration bubbles up. “I’ve been trying! I’ve followed every step, taken notes, and nothing happens. My cauldron is broken.”

“Your cauldron is not broken.” Aspen takes a step closer, looming over me. “You’ve just slapped a lid on it that you refuse to open. What’s holding you back? Is it fear? Doubt? You need to confront whatever’s preventing you from embracing your magic, or you’ll be bound for your own safety.”

I glare up at him, my body shaking with exhaustion and anger. “Yeah, I remember the consequences. You were fast to use that threat when you first arrived, if you remember. But bullying me won’t make my magic suddenly start working.”

He leans down, his nostrils flaring. “You have so much potential to be great, and you’re going to waste it because you’re too afraid to be something.”

I rear back, the words slapping harder than any physical blow could.

Tris pushes between us, forcing Aspen away from me, and his voice takes on a protective edge. “Back off, Aspen. Rowe needs some space. Pressuring her won’t help.”

Aspen rakes a frustrated hand through his perfectly groomed hair. “I can’t teach someone who doesn’t want to learn. Talk some sense into her, because everything I say goes in one ear and out the other.”

Spinning on his heel, he marches through the curtain.

Anger trembles through me. “I do want to learn, you rigid, incompetent, self-satisfied—”

Tris’s hand covers my mouth, stopping the angry flow. “Okay, sparky, a little less spit in your rage.”

I glare up at him and try to bite his palm without success.

He strokes my tangled hair. “Oh, honey, you need a nap so bad that it makes me tired just looking at you. Are you sure you won’t take the sleeping meds Dr. Lopez gave you?”

I mumble against his palm.

“I know you don’t like drugs, but you need to rest.” When I shake my head, he sighs and drops his hand. “Then let me help you meditate.”

Reluctantly, I allow him to draw me back to the cushion on the floor. He sits, folds his legs, and pats his lap in invitation.

I settle into the hollow created by his bent legs and lean against his solid warmth. “Is partner assisted mediation even allowed?”

“Who’s going to stop us?” He wraps his arms around me. “Now, close your eyes and focus while I list all the bones in a wolf’s body.”

I release a deep breath and close my eyes, melting into the warmth of his embrace. My next breath brings in the comforting scent of his body, a familiar combination of the mint shampoo he prefers and a subtle musk specific to him.

His cheek rubs against the side of my head, and his quiet voice fills my ear. “Nuchal crest. Zygomatic arch. Orbitals. Incisors…”

The slow cadence of his voice turns into a path that cuts through the molasses in my mind, and sparks of blue magic flicker across the back of my eyelids.

With a contented sigh, I sink deeper, following the path of my mate bond back to Tris, surrounding myself in the warmth of his magic.

* * *

That night, I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling of my grandmother’s bedroom. The antique furniture, the floral wallpaper, and the musty scent of the room are wearing on me. Every creak and rustle in the old house jolts me awake, and my exhausted mind has reached its breaking point.

Tris snuffles next to me, peacefully sleeping through the tiny scrape of claws in the walls, his soft snores like a grating lullaby on my nerves.

I can’t take it any longer. I need to get out of this room.

Throwing back the covers, I slide out of bed. Tris mumbles in his sleep, and I freeze until his soft snores return before slipping out of the room alone.

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