Page 51 of Magic of Sins

“Why can’t I control it?”

My voice sounds pitiful.Iam pitiful. Angry at myself, I ball my hand into a fist.

Caden sits down next to me on the sofa, and we’re just far enough apart that our knees don’t touch. Still, I feel his closeness and the resulting tension.

“A sin mage’s powers awaken when they first come intocontact with sin. For most of us, that happens at a young age. In the beginning, our powers aren’t very strong. They develop over time, and we slowly learn to apply them. My father taught me how to do it. But you were kept away from all that. And now that your powers have manifested, they’re as strong as a full-fledged sin mage’s. That makes it difficult, but not impossible, for you to control them.”

“I’m a monster.”

I probably shouldn’t say things like that around Caden. If I’m a monster, so is he. But it’s how I feel. Like I’ve been torn apart and put back together again. And like the only parts left are ugly and despicable.

Caden leans toward me.

“All I see is a girl who is not yet aware of her own strength,” he whispers.

His breath grazes my skin. For a fraction of a second, his lips touch my temple before he pulls away. I feel a spark of desire igniting in me, the need for more. I don’t know if it’s mine or his.

Damn it, Kaya!

I sit bolt upright and shake my head. Whatever it is I’m feeling right now, I can’t give into it.

“What do I need to do?” I ask.

That’s why I’m here, after all, to get a handle on my powers. I’m not here foranythingelse. If I learn to master them, maybe I can still live a normal life, and that’s what I want.

Caden inhales and exhales deeply, as if he’s struggling for composure as much as I am.

“Close your eyes.”

Even though it’s difficult, I do as he says. Without my sight, I feel like I’m at the mercy of Caden. And of me. Of that gift that controls me when it should be the other way around.

“Now relax, take a deep breath in, and then let it out slowly.”

What is this, a yoga class? I can hardly believe that this willteach me to control my powers. I peek over at Caden, but he has his eyes closed, a concentrated expression on his face.

“You need to find the threads,” he instructs me.

Find the threads? What threads?

I frown, unable to do anything with Caden’s cryptic instruction. Panic spreads through me. What if I lack some innate ability to control my gift? What if I’m helpless against it forever?

“The threads emanate from the people around you and connect them to the things they desire,” Caden explains in a calm voice. “You can tell someone’s a sinner by the way their threads are stretched tight. If you feed on them unchecked, you increase the pull on those threads. Worst case scenario, they snap. When that happens, the sinner loses control of their body.”

I witnessed that today in the library. I hope the man I was feeding on is okay. The idea that I unconsciously pulled his threads as if he were a puppet on strings is horrible.

I search in the darkness behind my eyelids for anything resembling what Caden’s describing. Trying to imagine what those threads might look like, what it might feel like to hold them. But it’s no use.

“There’s nothing there.”

“Just focus on me.”

“I am!”

I don’t know what Caden thinks is going to happen. After all, I’ve closed my eyes countless times without detecting any strange threads. Why would it be any different now?

“You’re not even trying,” he accuses me.

“Excuse me? What, you think I’m sitting here on your sofa with my eyes closed because I find it particularly comfortable?” I spit at him. “Or because I like being around you so much?”

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