Page 62 of Incoronate
Just look at Trace, I told myself desperately.Once. Just once.
But my eyes wouldn’t move. They couldn’t move. They were locked on Dominic’s face like he’d nailed them there.
I dug deeper, searching for that core of resistance. That stubborn part of me that refused to break. I imagined it as a wall. Brick by brick. Slotting it back into place inside my mind where the compulsion had torn it down.
Look at Trace. Just turn your head and—
A voice cut through the noise then. Faint and distant, but unmistakably Trace.Come on, Jemma. I know you can do this. Use me.
His voice was a rope thrown into churning water. I grabbed for it, pulling with everything I had. The anchor bondflared to life beneath my skin, warmth flooding through me like the first ray of sun after a brutal winter.
Draw from the bond, Jem. Take what you need. I’ve got you.
The compulsion wavered. Just for a second. Just enough. I seized that moment and pulled.
My gaze wrenched away from Dominic’s with a violence that felt like tearing muscle from bone. My head turned, inch by agonizing inch, until my eyes found Trace across the room.
The compulsion instantly shattered.
I gasped, the sound ragged and stunned as air rushed back into my lungs. My knees wobbled but I managed to stay upright, still gripping Dominic’s forearms as the last remnants of his command dissolved like smoke.
Holy hell. I’d actually done it.
“That went far better than I expected,” said Dominic, his voice rich with satisfaction. His hands dropped from my face to rest at my waist, holding me even as something proud and fierce gleamed back at me from his dark eyes. “I’m impressed, angel.”
My cheeks flushed at his praise, at the way he was looking at me like I’d just conquered something impossible.
Beaming, I turned and met Trace’s eyes again. He smiled back at me from across the room, his dimples making a brief appearance as his shoulders eased back from the brittle line they’d been holding. Something fierce and approving burned in his gaze, and I felt it echo through the anchor bond. His pride mixing with my own until I couldn’t tell whose was whose.
“Now do it again.”
My gaze snapped back to Dominic. “Again?” I croaked.
“Yes, angel.Again. We do it over and over again until you can break my compulsion without needing Romeo to pull youback. Until it becomes second nature. Until you are so well-practiced at it that even the Horsemen will have to fight for every inch of ground they try to take from you.” He cocked his head, studying me like I was the only thing in his world worth knowing. “Do you think you can handle that, angel?”
I swallowed hard, still catching my breath, still feeling the ghost of his command fluttering around my mind. Everything in me wanted to say no. To take a break. To process what had just happened. But I knew wallowing in fear wouldn’t serve me or make me stronger.
I lifted my chin and met his dark gaze head-on. “Bring it on.”
He flashed another devastatingly delicious grin and tugged me closer again. “That’s my girl,” he purred, the words like honey and sin wrapped together, making my knees weak for entirely different reasons.
Then his hands came back up to my face as his eyes drew me into their orbit once again. I barely had time to pull in a breath before he commanded, “Look at me, angel. Only me.”
And the world fell away again.
20. SALT AND SORROW
I wasn’t exactly interested in looking at myself in the mirror. Mostly because I already knew what I’d see—dark circles, sallow skin, bruises from sparring with Gabriel dotting my arms, bite marks scattered across my throat from training with Dominic. I didn’t need a visual confirmation to know just how wrecked I was.
Instead, I lit candles. Pretty, scented ones. The kind I usually saved for the rare occasions when I actually had time to sink into a bath instead of just rinse off and get on with surviving the day.
I lined them up along the vanity and the edge of the tub, and then, mostly because I was too tired to track down the spare matches and dragging myself across the bathroom seemed like a hostile act against my own body, I held my hand over the first wick and murmured the incantation under my breath.
Ignire flamma.
The flame caught easily, soft and obedient, and a small flicker of satisfaction warmed my chest. There had been a time when calling up fire would have left me draped over the bathroom floor like a discarded coat. Now it barely cost me a breath. I moved down the line, lighting one wick after another until the entire bathroom was glowing with little pockets of gold, then turned off the overhead light.
The harsh fluorescent glare disappeared, replaced by warm, dancing shadows that made the space feel less like a sterile clinic and more like a sanctuary where I didn’t have to confront the aftermath of how hard I’d pushed myself today.
