Page 62 of Inked in Bloom
She nibbles her bottom lip, eyes flitting up from beneath her speckled spectacles. “The first time my magic worked…I feltdesire.”
Don’t react.
I shift in my seat, annoyed that a hint of sweetness tints the air. At least she hasn’t deciphered its meaning.Yet.“Desire is more of a gateway emotion. In letting go and giving yourself over to it, it opens you up to the full spectrum.”
“Why don’t you say that more explicitly in class when you teach us?”
“If your professor told you that your emotions would assist your magic, wouldn’t you try to make yourself feel an emotion?” I clasp my hands atop the desk. “That’s not something you can manufacture or control. I’m sure you’ve run into something similar, working with your clients.”
“I suppose you have a point,” she says, sighing. Her mouth scrunches and she tilts her head. “Then why tell me now?”
I stand up and walk around the desk, leaning against it before I get any closer. “Your expert understanding of emotions may be helpful as a therapist in the mortal realm, but here, among Blooms, trying to control every feeling isn’t a strength.”
“Therapists don’t try to control emotions. We focus on coping and regulating them.” She pushes her chair out and meets me at eye level, her chin raised. “But I’m feelingangryright now.” Her eyes drag over my flourish marks, and my skin warms under her attention. “Does that help with today’s lesson?”
“Let’s find out, Dr. Tanner.” I wrap my hand around her wrist and gently lift it between us, meeting her gaze. “How’s your magic? Is it buzzing along your fingertips?”I trace them and drag my pointer finger up her forearm. “Trailing through your veins?”
Her breath catches in her throat. “Yes.”
While I’m certain she’s not lying about her anger, there’s another emotion she’s unable to conceal. Mouthwateringly sweet desire. There’s only one thing that stops me from weakly admitting who I am to her: She holds me responsible for her death. Something so unforgivable and impossible to overlook, the best thing I can do is help her graduate the Conservatory.
Emotionally, I’d say I’ve mastered maintaining the professional boundary between student and professor. Physically, I’m doing a piss-poor job.
“Don’t be a fool, Briar,”Corrigan warned me over breakfast.“Keep your distance.”She’s always been able to see right through me. Guess it’s only fair that the feeling is mutual.
And if I had my druthers, I’d be closer to Monroe. Brush through the waves of her hair, trace the length of her neck with my lips. My teeth.
Get a hold of yourself.
“Shift,” I bite out, blinking myself back to the real reason we’re here. She needs to be ready to deliver spring. Nothing else matters. This is what she wants, and I’ll ensure she’s prepared.
“No.” Fear slinks along the bond like a thief attempting to stick to the shadows.
“Why not?” My attention darts where I thumb over her wrist bone. “You refused to demonstrate the last few classes. There’s no spring for you if you can’t shift, and I have to be able to give the dean an update this week. So why don’t you tell me what you’re afraid of and we’ll sort it out. Together.”
Please. Help me,help you.
Her pale-mint brows draw up in surprise. Maybeafraidwas too on the nose?—
“What if I get stuck like last time and can’t fully shift back?” She rips her hand out of my grasp.
“The bunny ears and tail were a nice addition.” After being called Sir Thumps-A-Lot for months, I enjoyed getting to appreciate her adorable bunny features. I arch a brow at her and brace my hands on the desk behind me so I’m not tempted to touch her again. “Worried I’ll have to help coax them back into place?”
“No.” Her tone is firm, but her eyes soften along their edges.
“Then shift,” I challenge. “We both know you need to be able to do this. You won’t get through the veil otherwise.”
Her irises flash at that. I’ve hooked her resolve. Her determination is admirable, though I’ll admit I’m concerned what she might try once she’s in the mortal realm. Selfishly, I don’t want her to go. Managing the searing strand of our bond without her knowledge is hard enough without her being a world away.
She pivots toward the door, and for a moment, I wonder if she will tell me to fuck off and walk out. But instead, she takes a few slow breaths, shrinking down as gray and white patches of fur burst from her skin.
I drop to the ground and sit back on my heels. Monroe’s big bunny eyes blink up at me. A polar ice cap could melt from that stare.
“You’re beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself. But fuck it, she is. “Knew you could do it.” The temptation to scratch those delicate ears almost overtakes me, but I slip a hand into my pocket and summon a fuzzy robe with the other. “When you’re ready to shift back?—”
Her nose twitches a few times, and with apop, she reemerges. I turn my head, holding the robe out for her.
“Well done?—”
