These Wicked Delights by Jessi Elliott

Author:Jessi Elliott [Elliott, Jessi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessi Elliott

Chapter Twelve

I walk around the house in a daze all morning. Not even a double shot of espresso can pull me out of it. The second one makes my nerves vibrate anxiously, but I’m still exhausted. It clings to my muscles, attempting to lure me back to bed, but the renewed fear I have of my dreams keeps me away.

I need to figure out why they’re happening. Maybe then I’ll learn how to make them stop. Though I have an awful feeling those answers are tied to getting a grip on my magic, which seems more and more impossible every day.

Nova takes one look at me on my way back to the coffee pot and gives me the day off from my online classes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, leaning against the counter.

“I think we both know it’d be a waste of time.” I pour coffee into my mug, leaving enough room for cream, and sprinkle the top with cinnamon.

“I don’t know that, and neither do you.” His tone is gentle—he wants to help.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I turn toward him. “I’m okay, but thanks.”

He gives me a look, knowing full well I’m lying, but I hurry past him before he can say anything more, stopping in my room to grab Dad’s book and the blanket off the back of the couch before slipping outside.

After walking around the grounds for a bit, I end up at the mausoleum. Setting the blanket on the cold stone floor, I sit cross-legged and open the book.

For an hour or so, I recite some of the easier incantations, practicing a cloaking spell to hide the burning candle on the ground in front of me. The heat from the flame still warms my hands, but the candle itself isn’t visible. Feeling the power of my magic zipping through my veins—it’s intoxicating. My eyes close of their own volition as my heart beats steadily in my chest. This feels right. Not strained or forced. It comes easy and . . . natural.

Though, as great as it is, it’s child’s play compared to what Remington can do. Compared to what I could do if I had the tools to advance my abilities.

I exhale a heavy breath and stand, leaning against one of the stone tombs as I thumb through the book again. One entry catches my eye, and I trace the worn paper with my finger. It’s another cloaking spell, but on a larger scale. It talks about hiding your appearance, altering it so you go unrecognized. Huh. That could be interesting. Changing my appearance on a whim.

I read the passage in my head a few times before I start reciting it aloud. My skin tingles with magic, and I gasp softly. Did it work? I grab my phone and flip the camera on, frowning at my regular reflection. I’m not sure why I’m so disappointed. I didn’t really think it would work, did I? Maybe I just don’t have enough magic to make it work.

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