Page 61 of Inked in Bloom
Her gaze darts behind her toward the door. She still hasn’t sat down. “Where will we be doing our session?”
“Right here.” I gesture at the seat across from me. “Plenty of space to work. We’re shifting, not sparring.”
Though I bet she’d be happy to…
She snorts and sits in the seat, muttering something too low for me to catch, which is impressive considering my impeccable immortal hearing.
“While I know this was covered in class, let’s begin by talking through the basics.”
“Okay.” Monroe’s fingers fidget in her lap. When she notices me looking, they still before smoothing out the top of her black lace skirt.
I swallow thickly. “As you’ve started to realize, magic flows from energy and is stronger in its delivery with emotion.”
“Of course I know that,” she snaps before gnawing on her bottom lip. “But I don’t mind you going over the information again and clarifying the types of emotions.”
Readying her pen and notepad, she looks up at me expectantly.
“Joy, excitement, rage, envy, sadness, desire. One of the reasons our magic is more potent after waking from rejuvenation, or first thing in the morning, is that even if we don’tremember our dreams, there’s nothing blocking the emotions evoked by them.”
Her brows lift. “I suppose that makes sense. Though I don’t understand why I am still having trouble. Especially when I’m an expert on emotions.”
“Knowing the clinical significance of an emotion and allowing yourself toexperienceit are two very different things.”
Anger sears the mate mark like a brand.
“I know that.” She thumps her heel against the ground, then crosses her leg over the other. “But there’s nothing wrong with regulating your emotions. In fact, more people should try it.”
The burning dissipates and she lifts her chin, mint-green irises zeroing in on me.
Well, if that isn’t a personal dig, I don’t know what is.
Her walls are up and fortified. If only she realized how much she let slip through the cracks when she exhausts her beautiful mind and lets it dream. As much as she’s overtaken my thoughts, I don’t wake up with an unsettled ache beneath my ribs and a miserable hard-on because ofmyfeelings. It’s all her.
Every night it happens, followed by an internal debate. To give in to the desire, using my hand for meager solace, or grit my teeth and ignore it. Lately, due to my exhaustion, the latter has won out. Which is probably for the best. I’m certain that if there were a rejected mate handbook, there’d be a warning to not fuck your fist to the tune of your spurner. I’m not sure which is worse: being stuck in my bunny form, witnessing her pleasure and unable to do anything to find relief, or feeling her lust and ecstasy roll through the bond, but each torturous stroke of my cock is areminder that it’ll never happen. She’s determined to reject the bond and me.
But at the end of the day, I don’t deserve any pity. I’m the Bloom who landed us here after all.
Remain professional and educational, Briar.
I sigh, keeping my face impassive and leaning back in my chair.
“When it comes to magic, you have to pour your emotions into it. I believe your struggle stems more from halting the flow of your emotions rather than a lack of ability.” As soon as I finish the words I’ve been rehearsing since I found out I’d be teaching her in these one-on-one sessions, my chest lifts. It’s like I’m a young sprout patting myself on the back, but the wins are few and far between lately.
“So how do I fix it?”
“What are some emotions you’ve felt when you’ve gotten your magic to work?” I ask, maintaining my smooth teacherly veneer.
“Frustration.”
“What else?”
“Anger.” Her tone is a knife—sharp, cutting, and meant to wound.
“I can believe that.” The corner of my mouth kicks up. I can’t help it, Monroe is every bit as captivating as she was those months in her apartment, more so now with that bite added to the glare she shoots me from across the desk.
It’s twisted how I find the ire she spears at me thrilling.
I know it’s wrong. She isn’t mine and she won’t ever be—I’m reminded of that daily—but some fucked-up part of me presses on out of masochistic curiosity. I want to dig up everything she buries deep in that beautiful mind of hers. The truth is, I don’t deserve her secrets, but that doesn’t stop my desperation to uncover them. “Anything else?”
