Page 155 of Seer Prophet

I shoved him, using the telekinesis.

I didn’t do it hard, but it stopped him in his tracks.

He stared at me in disbelief.

Then his eyes ignited at once.

That heat I’d felt in hisaleimiturned into a fucking furnace. I felt the charge ignite, somewhere in the higher areas of my light, raising the hairs on my arms, sucking in my breath, hitting at my chest.

He shoved me back. Hard.

Hard enough to push me into the railing under the observation window where we often watched our daughter. Hard enough to suck the breath from my lungs. I hit into that metal bar with my ass, and let out a surprised gasp.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he growled. “I tolerated it when you were mentally incompetent. I won’t tolerate it now.”

Looking at him, I didn’t answer.

I still didn’t feel afraid of him, though.

He hadn’t done that to hurt me. He’d done it to make a point––a point I couldn’t help but see as valid. I shouldn’t be shoving him around with my light, either.

When he returned my gaze, I got the sense he could feel that.

He was both grateful for the thought and frustrated by my lack of visible emotion.

Or maybe frustration wasn’t what I felt off his light. Maybe the anger I felt had less direction than that. I could feel the fear more prominently in his light now, which was what I’d been looking for. It grew stronger the longer I looked at him, and the longer I refused to react to the anger he continued to try to use to get a reaction out of me.

Frowning, he averted his gaze.

“So that’s it?” He folded his arms. “I’m sidelined now?”

“Revik.” I exhaled, breaking my silence. “For fuck’s sake. No.”

His irises continued to glow with light, but fainter now. I saw them spark the longer he looked at me.

“Then what? Clearly you think it’s all right to lock me in here for hours––”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I meant to come down earlier. I got pulled. Balidor––”

“Balidor.” He let out an angry grunt. “Right.”

I bit my lip. I forced myself not to rise.

I still felt strangely detached from the anger shining in his light eyes.

Well––not detached. I wasn’t detached at all. I just knew I could see him. I could see him past whatever he was trying to show me on the surface, whatever he used to try and push me back, scare me off. I could feel his distrust of me, but it felt different now.

“Revik,” I said. “We can’t do this. We can’t.”

“We can’t do what?”

I clicked at him, but still not really in anger.

Staring around the relatively spartan trappings of our room, it struck me how much this small space reflected so much of his life, so much of who he was. Like a mini command center, only with the bound religious books given to him by Wreg. I could feel Menlim’s influence even in this, but I knew that as a part of Revik now, too.

The thought didn’t sadden me, not anymore.

A lot of what Revik had been forced to become had arisen in direct opposition to his childhood. It was that, or succumb to being the monster.

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