Page 87 of Possession

There is a weight to his words. Maybe it’s my hangover or a trick of the light, but his lip might have quivered, just the slightest bit. If it’s real, and it could very well be an act, it does drive the point home.

There is nothing left for me there. Nothing. I wrap the word around me like a cloak. What was I thinking last night, that it isn’t my place to wonder about Aris anymore? He’s gone. Not just gone, but left.

Still, the Grand Mage has been my enemy for so long that I feel the urge to reject his proposition outright. He would have killed me; he does not have my best interests at heart. So why would he ask me to let Aris go?

What is his angle?

“Fine,” I say at length.

The Grand Mage holds my gaze before his eyes briefly flit down to my amulet. “Ancient, evil magic,” he mutters with a shake of his head.

I gaze at the stone, realizing that my presence is a bit of a slap in the face. He gave everything short of his life to put Aris in me. He forged the amulet, and it was, ultimately, for nothing. I encircle the pendant with my fist to block the sight of my reflection, then study the Grand Mage.

“I’ll let the past go,” I say, tone softer now.

His answering smile is weak as he sets down his pen. “Then I welcome you to our Institute, Mary Dessen.”

Chapter nineteen

Of course, it’s made clear that I’m not actually a student at the Institute. That’s fine—I don’t want to be. I have my sigil, and that will get me into the library. That’s all that I care about.

I’m excited to begin, but I’m exhausted after my meeting. Instead of setting for the library, I return to my room and fall into an almost immediate slumber.

I can’t tell how much time has passed before I feel wind ruffling my hair and chilling my skin. I look around, shook to find myself on a cliff. It’s storming, cold, and the leaves have changed color in the forest behind me. I’m in a dark dress that doesn’t suit the season, barefoot with my hair loose. I feel somewhat wild, and I’m aware that this isn’t reality; I am dreaming.

The sky is completely black, suggesting it’s night, but there is no moon or stars. Lightning strikes in the distance with long, furious branches. Only seconds pass before there are new streaks, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. The air smells of ozone and vibrates with energy.

Next to me is a man, or something that looks like a man. He has dark hair, pale skin, and a powerful, lean body. He is human, but more; his teeth are sharper, skin tighter, features hypnotizing in their intensity. Every line of his body is feral, the lines in his face as animalistic as the way he moves.

He is carnal, almost frightening, and proximity to him is like being battered. An aura radiates off of him which betrays his otherworldly strength and power; it is a different kind of lightning, raw power that could turn my way at any second.

I know who this is.

Without meaning to, I take a step back, instinct driving the movement. My body recognizes a predator, the type I must bear my throat to.

“Aris.” I swallow nervously as I comb my eyes over him. He’s taller than me, towering—not bulky, but solid. I briefly, uselessly, consider running or fighting, but I wouldn’t be able to move or escape him, not unless he let me. “Is this what you really look like?”

“You have so many questions, and that is what you choose to ask?” He smiles indulgently. “Very well. This is how I have always chosen to appear to humans. It is not my true form—that would be incomprehensible to you.”

I hesitantly meet his gaze, wondering what his eyes look like. They are, unsurprisingly, black, but there’s more expression and thought in them than I would’ve guessed. For the first time, instead of feeling his emotions, I’m seeing them.

Most disturbingly, the sight is not unpleasant. Something to him… the sharpness of his edges, the promise of shadow and the everlasting potential of his strength arouses me in a way which embarrasses me just the same.

“How interesting it is to see you wear our body alone,” he says quietly.

A short, angry breath escapes me as I process what this means, logically. Thirty minutes after promising to forget his existence, I’m dreaming about him.

“Is this real?” I ask. Demand.

“This is as real as you want it to be.”

I don’t want it to be real at all. I want to pause this, shut it down, but the wind continues to blow, the storm raging on.

“You couldn’t manipulate my dreams before,” I murmur distractedly, to myself.

He raises a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and I gasp. His touch is electric, like a static shock without the irritating stun. Aris smiles; he knows his effect on me.

The back of his hand comes to my cheek, trailing down. He takes his time, making sure every inch of our skin meets—from the pads of his fingers to the edge of my ear. Savoring. My eyes shut, breath catching. The significance of the moment isn’t lost on me; this is the first time we have ever touched.

---