Page 56 of Forging Darkness

He gives a slow nod.

I bite my cheek and grind out, “I don’t know how.” It stings to admit as much, especially to a seasoned warrior.

Thorne arches a single dark eyebrow.

“Really?” is all he says after a prolonged pause.

“Just get out,” I snap. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t mind you redecorating.” He points to several gashes I unknowingly made in the walls. “But I’d like to keep my en suite functioning for a while longer. Getting building materials to this location can be a real pain. How long have you been able to transform?”

I shrug. “Not long. The first time was a few months ago.”

“Well, that’s understandable then.” There’s a soothing note to his voice that helps me drop my guard. “This is new, and with no one around to teach you, I’m sure this has all been . . . a bit much.”

Understatement.

“I can help.”

His steps are sure as he approaches, and my hackles rise. I slap away his hands when he gets within reaching distance. “Yo, hands off, dude. I’m not letting you undress me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

I narrow my eyes. Maybe, maybe not.

Bringing a hand to his face, he rubs his lips, considering. He nods to himself as if deciding on a course of action. “You have a spark inside you, Emberly,” he starts. “When it ignites into a flame, your body pushes past the restrictions of a normal angel-born body because you aren’t a typical angel-born. Not even close. As a daughter of a seraph, your capacities surpass those of our brethren.”

I watch Thorne closely when he talks about our abilities as seraph Nephilim. There isn’t pride in his voice, like I would have expected. Rather . . . resignation? He sounds almost weary. Odd.

“In order to return to your normal state, you need to learn to extinguish that flame. To focus on where that fire is coming from and find a way to put it out.”

“How do you find that place inside?” I ask, not knowing how exactly to put my questions into words. Introspection isn’t really my thing. And sharing all of this with a stranger makes me extra skittish.

“Close your eyes and search inside yourself.” He waits for me to follow his instruction, but I don’t trust him enough to close my eyes in his presence. When it’s clear I’m not going to obey, he gestures over his shoulder with his chin. “How about I go out there and talk to you through the door?”

“That’d be best. Can I lock it?”

He shakes his head. “No locks. No one would dare enter my private rooms.” A bit of hardness returns to his features, as if he’s imagining what he would do to someone who stepped uninvited into his domain. I imagine it wouldn’t be pretty.

I nod my agreement, and he slips from the room, firmly shutting the door behind him. His slightly muffled voice comes only a moment later.

“Close your eyes.”

I comply this time, squeezing my lids shut.

“Take a few deep breaths,” Thorne orders. “Through your nose and out your mouth.”

What is this, a yoga class?

“Listen to the breath going in and out of your lungs.” Thorne is silent for a few minutes while he waits for me to find a rhythm. “Feel the strength in your muscles and the hardness of your bones. Count the heartbeats as your blood travels through your veins.”

The world slowly starts to fall away as I focus on my body. The only outside influence that has any bit of my attention is the deep timbre of Thorne’s voice.

“Roll your shoulders and feel the weight of your wings.”

Three more breaths. In and out.

“Now I want you to take stock of your body. Everything from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your wings. Feel each part and search for the source of warmth inside.”

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