It was confusing, because at the same time, she felt amazing.
She felt light as air, warm to her core, and blissed out on the most delicious aroma. Like a full-bloom meadow in spring, the bergamot-oleander blend was heady and drowsy, sweet and sunny. Light and fragrant, but utterly addictive. She cracked her eyes open, blurrily focussing on the ceiling of Theodore’s room, her arms and legs flinging out as she unfurled in a heavy, lazy stretch.
The bed was empty, but still warm on either side of her.
She paused, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember what had happened the night before. Kilian. Theodore. The shower. And then … nothing?
Panic sluiced through her, heavy and sharp, but there were no new scars on her arms. In fact, the scars she did have seemed to have faded slightly. They were smaller. Thinner. Less jagged.
The bed smelled only faintly of Theodore, and strongly of Kilian and Sato. They must have stayed with her.
She sucked in a lungful of air, trying to clear away the remnants of her panic as the door cracked open, Cian appearing with a cup of coffee and a plate of avocado toast.
“Morning, sunshine.” He kicked the door closed behind him, eyeing her carefully. “Ready to go viral because the sexiest Alpha in Dorm A just brought you breakfast in be—” He froze, his eyes zeroing in on her chest.
She glanced down, freezing at the slight glow through her borrowed T-shirt. She yanked at the neckline, pulling it far enough to reveal the shining gemstone. The new gemstone. It was a few inches below the stone that had momentarily given her Kalen’s powers. It was a cold, icy grey, like a cloudy diamond.
The panic tried to claw back into her, but Cian’s panic was stronger, drowning hers out. He dropped the plate, shoving the mug onto the bedside table as he fell onto the bed, grabbing her head in his hands.
“Focus on me,” he said quietly. “Take five deep breaths. Count them for me.”
Panic, panic, panic.
It hammered into her, denting her barricade, knocking her off kilter.
“Y-You’re the one freaking out,” she gritted. “N-Not me.”
He blew out a breath that was half laugh, half scoff, his emotion settling somewhat. “Right. Sorry. Tell me what you’re feeling?”
He was still holding her face, his hands making her feel tiny, the roughness of his palms tempting her to turn her face to the side and brush her cheek against the texture, but she held herself back.
“I feel … warm. Like nothing really. Are you trying to hold me in place by my head so I don’t turn back time?”
He made that huffing sound again, his hands drifting, one of them slipping around the back of her neck, the other dropping to her shirt, weighing down the neckline as he stared at the gemstone … and almost exposed her chest a little too much. “We don’t know what this one does. It could be …” He trailed off, giving her a guarded look.
“I know.” She caught his forearm, brushing her touch along his skin, trying to soothe him the way he seemed to be able to do just by touching her.
His attention drifted, his teeth catching his lip as he pressed his knuckles forward against the chain embedded into her skin. His eyes flicked up to hers, watching her reaction, before he unfurled his fingers, pressing his entire palm to her chest. Her own hands fell back down to her lap, her heart stuttering beneath his grip.
He pressed, weighing her back, inch by inch until her head was sinking into the pillow, her hair fanning messily around her. He pulled in a steadying breath, licking his lips.
“How do you feel?” he repeated.
Well now she didn’t want to tell him.
She folded her arms, inadvertently trapping his hand between her breasts. Something lit up in his bright gaze, the aquamarine colour glittering as his power swelled around her, dousing her in sun and saltwater. It pooled in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. She was almost convinced that a cresting wave had sprayed her with sea mist as little beads of sweat tried to gather across her skin.
“I feel fine,” she blurted, sounding completely scattered. “C-Can I have my … um … coffee? I don’t think anything is going to happen.”
He lifted off her immediately, grabbing the cup from the bedside table, drips of coffee stuck to the side from his haste in slamming it down. He pressed it into her hands and then just sat there, staring at the mug with a heavy, dark frown, before his eyes widened.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, examining her face. “Tell me to do something.”
“Like what?” Some of her nervousness dropped away at the shocked look on his face.
She gulped at the coffee, but he reached out, grabbing the mug again.
“Anything.” He stole the coffee off her, slapping it back onto the bedside table, clearly wanting her to focus.
“How about go fuck yourself?” she grumbled, quickly reaching for the coffee again. She might be a Sigma, but anything getting between her and caffeine first thing in the morning turned her into a prissy, bossy Beta.
Cian was tugging at the tie in his sweatpants.
“W-What are you—” she started, but her question was cut off as his hand tunnelled beneath the waistband, dragging it just low enough to show her the hint of another tattoo swirling up from where the waistband of his underwear should have been. If he had been wearing any.
“You might want to tell me to stop before we get the Ironside Show banned from the family-friendly time slot, sweetheart.”
He sounded like he was joking. There weren’t even any cameras in the room, but his expression was entirely serious. His hand shifted and it looked like he had wrapped it around his length, his jaw clenching. “Isobel …”
“Stop! Jesus Christ, stop!”
He breathed out a short sigh of relief, pulling his hand out of his pants and holding them both up in an innocent gesture. “You’ve got Elijah’s power, love. Hypnosis.”
“What?” she rasped, staring at his hand.
His scent had changed. It didn’t remind her of the ocean anymore, but of steam-choked gasps and sweat-dusted skin. He was sun-soaked sex, and it was the single most drugging scent she had ever experienced.
She grabbed his hand, driven entirely by instinct, but stopped just short of pressing it against her face, leaving them both to stare at their clasped hands, held between them for no reason.
She quickly dropped him, and he leaned back, levelling her with a calm look that didn’t give away any of his thoughts, but he was half hard, making his sweatpants look a little obscene as the material clung to the outline of his cock, the edge of his tattoo still peeking out. It looked like a branch of some kind, with flowers on it.
“That didn’t feel very hypnotic,” she said, trying to mimic his relaxed posture, ignoring her thundering heartbeat and forcing her voice to sound normal.
And her gaze to stay on his face.