Page 33 of Overwhelmed By Magic

Slowly, I slip the book from the shelf and then gasp when I’m transported back to my chair, the journal in my hand.

What the-

“Skye! I’ve been trying to get your attention. Are you alright? You look a little pale.” Tamara is fussing from the other side of my desk as I shove the journal into a drawer and turn to her. How she missed anything that just happened is beyond me but I’m not asking any questions. I need Harlow and maybe Rumi or Ambrose. Fuck it. All three of them.

“No, I’m fantastic. Never been better. There’s a meeting, right?”

She giggles, placing her hand over her mouth. “Just was. I couldn’t get your attention but you have your list, right? You’ll be fine.” Her presence confuses me as she wishes me good luck and scampers back to her office. I don’t even get the chance to address it when Ambrose strolls into my room, shutting the door a little harder than he needs to. He plops down into the chair across from my desk, a crooked smirk on his lips like he owns the entire world.

Being the oldest Magila here, he probably does.

“You’ve got me for the next hour, little human.”

I narrow my gaze at him, still trying to decide if I like the pet name he’s given me. He’s made it more than obvious that he wants me and Harlow but I have no idea what to do with the feelings I have for another man. Not to mention that Rumi had explicitly described that Ambrose is able to break every rule in the book when it comes to mages.

That offering him anything, even with a guarantee, means nothing.

I’ve managed not to ask him any questions but this will be a difficult session if I just sit here in silence. Besides, I’d rather be studying the book I’ve just discovered or possibly even return to that room. I’ve never felt that much power in one place before and it’s all I can do not to close my eyes despite my nightmares constantly trying to consume me.

“Do you have plans for how this day is going to go?” Ambrose asks. His tone is soft but I know that he’s searching for a certain answer. When I don’t say anything, he stands and rounds the desk, plopping his ass on the edge. He leans toward me, placing a hand right in front of me and gripping the edge. “Skye, you smell sweeter than usual.” He sniffs and then grins. “Ah, it’s not you, is it? You little deviant. How did you retrieve something from Mother Nature?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about until it’s too late and he’s ripping open the drawer with the red journal.

“Skye, you actually took a book?” He reaches in, fingers hovering over it before I snatch it from beneath them. He doesn’t reach for the journal but stares at the cover long and hard before meeting my eyes. “That came from the library. How did you get there?”

“What?”

Ambrose morphs from the sweet mage I’ve seen all week to the one I’ve been warned about. He places a hand on each armrest, looming over me as his lip turns up in a snarl. “Tell me where the fuck you got the book. I’ve been looking for that damn room for a hundred years. A room that has every fucking secret about our existence and you expect me to believe that you just found it? I wanted to like you, Skye. I really did. Now, I’m thinking that you’re a fucking plant.”

I want to reach over to my mark and call Harlow here but I’m too curious to know what Ambrose is talking about. It’s going to get me killed one day. Keeping the journal pressed against my chest, I relax my body to seem less of a threat. “First off, you’re not going to demand shit from me.” That’s not exactly what I meant to say but it gets the point across.

Unfortunately, it just makes him angrier.

One of his hands wraps around my throat, his thumb digging into my chin and angling it up so I can’t do anything other than meet his eyes. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll get you anything. Money. I’ll get you out of here. Fuck, I’ll make your boyfriend human again. Just tell me how you got the fucking book.”

I clear my throat, trying not to panic. I’m torn between desire and fear, although my dick only got the desire part. Drumming up enough confidence to say what I need to, I take a deep breath and then release it, feeling the push of the essence in my wrists. I shouldn’t be able to use it but things are changing. “You want to know what I want? I want you to fucking behave for once in your goddamn life. I’m confused and terrified. I’ve never in my life been kept in a cage like this but one step into Grimrose and I’m suddenly prey to all the students in this academy. No one is doing a damned thing about it. It’s like I’m an experiment for someone’s amusement. Hell, my own coworkers are doing nothing about it. So, what do I want in exchange for your question? You, sitting down in that fucking chair and telling me what the fuck is going on. Because I have questions.”

“You’re not scared of me?”

“Of course I am but where does that get me? Harlow terrifies me too sometimes but you two and Rumi are the only ones capable of making everyone back off so sit.”

Ambrose blinks a few times before releasing me. I’m sure very few people have spoken to him like that and even less have walked away without a scratch. He stands there for a few moments before returning to his seat. His aura thickens and flares, a low hiss emitting from him as he grabs his left arm. Seconds later, he just stares at the offending spot.

“Ambrose?” I ask. I stand up and lean over the desk, my eyes meeting something that’s 100% impossible. Just above his left wrist is a small pink mark etched from essence. There’s no mistaking that it’s from me.

That I’ve somehow claimed the oldest, most powerful Magila in this place.

Without so much as uttering a word.

21

AMBROSE

No one has ever used their words like that when I’ve demanded what they wanted in exchange for what I need. Skye is still clutching that journal to his chest but now he’s inspecting the new mark on my forearm, a mark that shouldn’t be fucking possible.

Claims have to be uttered aloud and received before essence ever appears on someone’s skin. Moreover, Skye doesn’t have essence—the marks on his wrists do. I’m utterly confused if that makes me Skye’s bitch or someone else’s. Except it doesn’t feel as limiting as I thought it would be. Instead, the only thing I want is to ensure Skye’s safety. Completely.

I weather a breath as I continue to stare at the symbol, falling in love with it the longer I stare at it.

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