Origin of Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Protector #3)(10)

Suddenly, I realized that steam had filled the room and warmed my cheeks. I’d been staring at the beaker too long and wallowing in self-doubt. That would get me nowhere. I shoved the miserable thought away.

My muscles twinged as I shrugged out of my clothes and climbed into the water. Showering was a chore and the water ran pink—gross—but I was glad to finally be clean.

I was moving like a sloth by the time I shut off the water. As quickly as I could, which wasn’t very quickly at all, I dried off and pulled on a fluffy robe.

With the box containing the beaker tucked under my arm, I climbed the stairs to my trove. It was only three flights up, but it felt like a hundred. Though my wound was closed, every inch of me hurt.

By the time I climbed up into the greenhouse, I was anxious to be amongst my treasures. It was more than my normal excitement over visiting my trove. This felt like a compulsion.

A need to be in my garden.

I shut the door behind me and turned to face my treasures.

The jungle spread out around me, plants sitting on tables and dangling from the ceiling. Vines and leaves and flowers filled the space, drinking the water that dripped from the custom irrigation system I’d installed. Whenever the water turned on, it felt like it was raining and I loved it.

Every muscle in my body relaxed just being here, loosening like I’d been to an hour-long massage. I grinned at the sight of my three cars, sitting on the other side of the jungle and out of reach of the sprinkler system. But it was the plants that called me this time.

I walked toward a table full of orchids. Their blooms were a riot of colors—pink, yellow, orange, white. It was strange, but as I walked, I almost felt stronger. As if some of the exhaustion and muscle aches from my wounds were fading.

The deep need that I’d had to be up here—the one that had made me banish Ares from the house—had settled somewhat, curling up in my chest like a snoozing kitten.

I set the box containing the beaker on the table, finding a space between two pots containing dragonfruit plants. Their thick green stalks supported strange red fruit that looked like something Dr. Seuss might have invented. I’d worked my butt off for this place, putting every penny I had into building my greenhouse.

I loved my plants. And I was almost sure they loved me. Even now, it seemed like the dragonfruit plants were leaning toward me.

I shook my head, trying to clear the image. That was too weird. Had to be the exhaustion. We’d been going straight for nearly two days after our last big sleep. I was due for a nap.

I strolled by the plants, running my fingertips over leaves and petals. It almost felt like energy flowed into me.

I made my way toward the Firebird, slipping inside the red car and leaning back against the seat to gaze out at my own personal paradise.

It wasn’t long before my eyelids slid closed, lulled by the sense of rightness that I felt just being here. As I drifted in the hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, an errant thought tugged at my mind.

Something was up with my magic. Particularly around plants. I didn’t know what it was, but something new seemed to be coming online…



At first, I didn’t realize that it was a dream.

I was back in the Monster’s dungeon, in the lair of the man who’d stolen me away from my family. In the place where I’d first met Cass and Nix, when we’d been so young. Children still, all of fourteen.

Too young for the horror of stone floors and walls that dripped with water. Too young for the echoes of the screams of those down the hall. Too young to be holed up in a place with no light and only rats for company.

But that didn’t matter. I was back there anyway, unable to escape.

My heart thundered in my chest, an aching beat that hurt my ribs. Sweat chilled my skin despite the cool air of the dungeon. I gripped the stone floor upon which I sat, digging my fingernails into the crevices in the stone.

I was alone.

Cass and Nix had not yet been brought here. Though I was within the dream, I was separate, watching. I tried to maintain that, to remain an observer, but I was dragged back into the mind of my fourteen-year-old self.

Dry sobs wracked my chest, but no tears poured from my eyes. I’d run out of tears long ago. Ever since they’d stolen me from my life, along with my mother and father. Weeks ago, a month? I had no idea. I’d lost track of time in this dark dungeon.

Come for me, Mum and Da.

But they couldn’t hear my prayers. They’d have come if they could. They’d been stolen along with me—but they were so strong and fierce. Of course they could break free and come for me. They were my world. They could do anything.

Except it’d been so long. Ages that I’d been in the darkness, eating whatever gruel was shoved through the slot in the door. And my parents were nowhere to be seen. My strong, brave parents.

They weren’t coming.

Since I’d been put in this room, I hadn’t seen a single soul besides the guard who occasionally pushed food into the room.

Loneliness clawed at my chest. All I could hear was my own ragged breath, filling the horrible stone room where the men had thrown me.

I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to envision my home. Though it frightened me—how could I not be frightened of what was happening there?—I would give anything to return to my family and friends. It was better than this. Anything was better than this.

I curled in a ball against the stone wall, wishing for them with a ferocity that made my stomach ache. What had happened to them? Would they ever come for me? Would I ever be free?