Page 92 of Magic of the Damned

My heart pounded, my breath became shallow rasps, and the feeling of hopelessness washed over me. I was imprisoned with the very people the powerful feared. How did I enforce my agency with them?

“I guess I can’t,” I admitted, puncturing the quiet. My anger grew with his continued silence. I needed to get away from him. From the magic. From everything that reminded me of the absurdity, cruelty, malice, and dysfunction that existed in this magical world where I didn’t belong.

Leaving the books where they were, I rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

CHAPTER 6

Leaving the library, I caught the attention of the man I saw earlier, his expression curious as I passed him. I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to find him fighting hard to resist the smile threatening to emerge. If I wasn’t so determined to put distance between me and Dominic, I would have asked him what was so funny, but getting away from Dominic and everything he seemed to represent was a priority.

In the vast hallway, I was faced with the reality that I had nowhere to go. Roaming the house with an agitated Helena in it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. With shades drawn to me and willing to attack me, going outside wasn’t an option, either. My hand pressed against my injury.

“Anand,” I called out, turning toward the west wing of the house where he told me he resided. At least, I hoped it was the west. At that point I was just guessing. Scanning the room and above, I saw him approach the railings of the second floor. He was wearing dark blue track pants and a tank. He watched me the entire time as he made his way to the stairs and down them.

“Yes?” he asked, approaching me. Closer, I could see he not only had the scar on his face but also one on his right shoulder where he’d been clawed. He looked where my eyes had landed.

“Helena?” I blurted. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities, although after seeing him fight, I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to get close enough to inflict such injuries.

“No.” His curt response didn’t leave a lot of room for further questioning. I warred with my curiosity and courtesy. The latter won.

“Want some company?” I asked.

“Not particularly.”

Well, I had to appreciate his honesty. He looked over toward the library. “I won’t mind it too much if you want to accompany me.”

Ignoring the ‘too much’ part, I happily followed as he led me from the library and down the corridor, where I passed more rooms with closed doors. Only one was open, and I thought it was a poorly lit office until I saw the collection of swords on the walls and the menacing masks on the wall and a gothic-looking dark chair. The high back was covered with emerald velvet, complementing the elaborate carvings that extended to the claw feet and arms. The Lord of the Underworld was sunk back in the chair, fingers curved over the edge of it, distorting the carved design. I stopped, feeling the full impact of his eyes—the glow of a dying flame that didn’t waver. His lips parted as if he was about to say something but then closed. His study of me continued, leaving me to wonder if Helena had told him about the shades or about Dominic’s refusal to remove the marks that bound her. Simply giving him a stiff wave, I hurried to catch up with Anand, who swung open a set of double doors to reveal an impressive gym divided by fitness equipment with a bike, treadmill, salmon ladder, bars, dumbbells, and weight plates.

“You’re a shifter. Why do you need any of this?”

“The preternatural is inherent, and most feel that’s enough. Not for me—for us.”

So Dominic’s carved physique wasn’t just winning the genetic lottery but also physical work. It would be ridiculous to think that fighting skills were innate. Which explained the mat and heavy bag with a man’s face and torso.

“It’s a body opponent bag for precision strikes and punches,” Anand explained.

My attention moved from the equipment to the collections of blades and swords on the wall and tables. There wasn’t anything less dangerous to practice with, like training swords or blades. The sharp blades glinting under the bright lights showed me their sole purpose: to inflict a great deal of pain.

“We heal fast,” he offered, when I picked up one of the blades from the table. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Sparring with razor-sharp blades is fine because they heal fast? I wanted to return to my normal boring life where the answer wasn’t ‘you heal fast, let me stab you.’

“Is there anything you want to use to practice?” he asked.

The extent of my exercise was running, which I did only occasionally.

“I don’t work out,” I admitted, a little embarrassed by the confession. But if beings with preternatural strength and speed did, I could probably do a squat or pushup sometimes. Fighting—I’m just swinging my arms windmill-style and hoping one connects. I was confident I could throw a punch, kick a person in a soft spot that would ensure pain, but I wasn’t confident I’d fare well in a fight.

“Other than assaulting my cheating ex’s Good and Plenty’s, I’ve never had a fight,” I admitted.

“Explain?” he coaxed. Retelling the story of my boyfriend cheating on me and my reaction brought a smile to his lips. It was the first time he’d shown genuine interest. “Then let’s start with the basics,” he said.

After a few hours of him showing me beginner punches, it was undeniable that it wasn’t just being the strongest and fastest that appealed to them but also the endorphin high. Each strike shot filled me with an intoxicating level of exhilaration. For that moment, the dark world fell away. It was a moment of clarity and peace, and I didn’t even mind Anand’s peal of laughter when I attempted, without any instruction from him, to duplicate a combination strike and kick he’d done on a heavy bag in the corner and ended flat on my ass. Where I stayed. Tired, I lay back on the floor and closed my eyes. They snapped open when I was nudged by a warm, wet nose. I couldn’t see anything but knew it was one of Dominic’s hellhounds. I assumed Zareb, who seemed to be Dominic’s favorite.

“Hey, you,” I greeted, sitting up. He revealed himself before plopping onto my lap where I stroked his fur. Between the workout and pet, my anger and frustration had eased. I was in a better place until Dominic appeared, abruptly signaled Anand to leave, and Zareb to do so, too, after Dominic jerked his head toward the door.

Standing up, I attempted to mirror his indecipherable expression, but the frustration and irritation had returned, making stoicism difficult.

“I’m not used to asking for permission when I use my magic on anyone. If I’m using it, I have an objective and it supersedes all things,” he said softly. In a world of the powerful, perhaps consideration and kindness was viewed as weakness. After meeting his father, I wasn’t sure if it was just about not showing weakness and being the biggest predator, but rather the nature vs. nurture situation. Helena had given over to that side, whereas Dominic seemed to have a tenuous grasp keeping him from falling into it.

Whatever role I played in this situation, I didn’t want or belong in his world.

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