Page 58 of Magic in My Bones

I stood slowly, pulling gently at his hand. “It’s getting late, love. You need to rest. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

Ren looked like he wanted to protest at first, but then quickly changed his mind. “You’re right,” he murmured, his shoulderssagging. He stood and paused, making sure Grim was still gripping his shoulder.

I gave him a small, warm smile. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

Ren nodded, rising from his seat, though he moved a little slower than usual, as though the day’s strain had finally caught up with him. I followed him out of the lab, the soft echo of our footsteps in the corridor a calming rhythm. We didn’t speak much, the silence comfortable in its own way.

At his door, Ren hesitated, a quiet wariness in his eyes. “Tomorrow, we find it, right?” His voice was soft but unwavering.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated, squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

He smiled, though it was a little worn around the edges. “Goodnight, Dorian.”

“Goodnight, Ren.” I kissed him gently on the cheek and watched him disappear into his room, the door closing softly behind him.

21

Shelter from the Storm

Ren

I bolted upright, myheart slamming against my ribs. The nightmare clung to me like a second skin, the images of the flooded city still vivid behind my eyelids. I blinked rapidly, trying to orient myself, but the darkness of my room offered no comfort. The sheets were tangled around my legs, damp with sweat, and I kicked at them frantically, desperate to be free of their suffocating embrace.

My breath came in ragged gasps, and I pressed a trembling hand to my damp forehead. The remnants of the dream lingered, the sound of rushing water and distant screams echoing in my ears. I closed my eyes, trying to will away the sense of dread that settled in the pit of my stomach, but it refused to budge.

A crack of thunder shook the room, making me flinch. I turned my head towards the window, watching as a flash of lightning illuminated the storm-tossed trees outside. The brief flare of light cast eerie shadows across the room, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of Luca, curled up in his bed, still asleep. Not surprising. He’d had an extra cup of calming tea the nightbefore, which meant he could probably sleep through the end of the world.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. The chill sent a shiver up my spine, but it was a welcome sensation, grounding me in reality. I stood, my legs shaky beneath me, and made my way to the window. The glass was cool against my forehead as I leaned against it, watching the rain lash against the pane in silvery sheets.

I knew I should try to go back to sleep, to put the nightmare behind me, but the thought of closing my eyes again filled me with a suffocating sense of dread. I needed... something. Someone.

No, not just someone. I neededDorian.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I was fumbling for clothes, yanking on the first things my hands touched in the dark.

The rain hit me like a wall, soaking me to the bone in seconds. But I barely noticed, my feet carrying me down the familiar path to Professor Crowe's cottage. The wind howled, whipping my hair around my face, but I pressed on, drawn by an inexplicable need to see Dorian.

The path through the gardens seemed longer than usual, each step weighted by uncertainty and rain-soaked clothes that clung to my skin. Finally, Dorian's cottage emerged from the darkness, its windows dark and shuttered against the storm.

Protection wards pulsed softly around the cottage, responding to my presence even before I knocked. Ever since our intimate connection, Dorian's magic seemed to recognize mine, reaching out like a lover's embrace. Silver threads of power wove through the rain between us, and I could have sworn the storm itself gentled around me, as if the cottage was trying to shelter me from the elements.

I stood before the heavy wooden door, water streaming down my face, my arms wrapped tightly around my trembling body.What was I thinking, coming here in the middle of the night? My hand hovered near the door, then dropped back to my side. Dorian was probably sound asleep, like any sane person would be at this hour. The thought of disturbing his rest made my stomach twist with guilt. But the lingering terror of my nightmare pulsed through me with each crack of thunder, and I couldn't bear to be alone with those images anymore.

Just go back, I told myself.Deal with it on your own. You're not a child anymore.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the cottage, casting strange shadows across the ivy-covered walls. Before I could lose my nerve entirely, I raised my fist and knocked, the sound barely audible over the howling wind. No response. I knocked again, harder this time, hating myself for every rap of my knuckles against the wood.

Long seconds ticked by, marked only by the drumming of rain and my chattering teeth. Just as I was about to turn away, a warm glow flickered to life behind the curtains. My heart lurched as footsteps approached from within.

The door creaked open, and there stood Dorian, sleep-rumpled and squinting in confusion. His auburn hair was mussed on one side, and he wore a faded t-shirt that hung loose on his frame. His eyes widened as he took in my bedraggled state.

“Ren?” His voice was rough with sleep, but concern quickly chased away any trace of annoyance. “Good gods, you're soaked through.” He stepped back, gesturing for me to enter. “Come in, come in. What on earth are you doing out in this weather?”

I hesitated in the entryway, water pooling beneath my feet on the worn floorboards. My teeth were chattering so hard I could barely get words out. “I-I'm sorry, I'm getting everything wet.”

“Don't worry about that,” Dorian said softly, already moving toward the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, flames sprung tolife, casting a warm glow across the room. “You need to get warm before you catch your death.”

He disappeared briefly into his bedroom, returning with a thick towel, a pair of soft flannel pajama pants, and one of his oversized sweaters. My stomach clenched. Of course I needed to change. That made sense. But standing here, dripping and shivering, the thought of undressing made my chest tight with anxiety.

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