Shadowland (The Immortals #3)(63)
I shrug, scratching my arm as I glance at the clock, wondering how long it’ll take.
“It won’t take long,” he says, reading my expression, already moving away from the desk. “And it really is important. Think of it like washing your hands—it releases all the negative stuff your clients carry with them, making sure it can’t contaminate your life.”
He motions for me to take one of the seats as he perches on the adjacent one, regarding me seriously as he says, “I would guide you through a meditation that’ll help strengthen your aura—but since I can’t actually see your aura, I have no idea if it needs strengthening.”
I press my lips together and cross my right leg over my left, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, unsure how to respond.
“Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you hide it like that. I’d love to learn your technique.”
I swallow hard and nod slightly, as though I might just do that someday, but not now.
Keeping his voice low and smooth, almost to a whisper, he says, “Close your eyes and relax, breathing slowly and deeply as you picture a swirl of pure golden energy with each intake of breath, followed by a swirl of dark mist with each outtake. Breathing in the good—ridding yourself of the bad. Continuing this cycle again and again, allowing only good energy to work its way through your cells, until you feel cleansed and whole and ready to begin.”
I do as he says, reminded of the grounding meditation Ava once put me through, concentrating on my breath, keeping it slow, steady, and even. At first feeling self-conscious under the weight of his gaze, knowing he’s studying me closer than he would if my eyes were open, but soon, I’m pulled into the rhythm—pulse calming, mind clearing, concentrating on nothing but breathing.
“Then, when you’re ready, imagine a cone of the most brilliant, golden white light reaching down from the heavens and descending upon you—growing and expanding in size until it bathes you completely—surrounding your entire being and allowing no lower energies or negative force fields to creep in—keeping all your positivity fully intact, safe from those who might leech it.”
I open an eye, peeking at him, never having thought of someone trying to steal my chi.
“Trust me,” he says, waving his hand, motioning for me to close my eyes and return to the meditation again. “Now imagine that same light as a powerful fortress, repelling all darkness while keeping you safe.”
So I do. Seeing myself in my mind, sitting on that chair, with a cone of light extending from above and moving down past my hair, over my tee, and well past my jeans to my flip-flops below. Enveloping me completely, keeping the good stuff in, and the bad stuff out—just like he said.
“How does it feel?” he asks, voice much closer than I expected.
“Good.” I nod, holding the cone of light in my mind, keeping it steady and bright. “It feels warm and—welcoming—and—good.” I shrug, more interested in enjoying the experience than rooting around for just the right word.
“You need to repeat that every day—but this is the longest it should ever take. Once you’ve imprinted yourself with the cone of light, all you need to do to maintain it is a few of those deep cleansing breaths, followed by a quick image of you sealed by the light, and you’re good to go. Though it’s not a bad idea to renew it now and then—especially since you’re about to become very popular around here.”
He places his hand on my shoulder, palm flat and open, fingers splayed across the cotton of my tee, the sensation so shocking, so jolting, the images so revealing, I jump to my feet.
“Damen!” I cry, voice hoarse, scratchy, as I turn to find him at the door, watching me—watching us.
He nods, gaze meeting mine in what, at first seems his usual loving way—filled with a complete and total reverence for me. But the longer it holds, the more I sense something behind it. Something dark. Troubling. Something he’s determined to keep.
I move toward him, clasping his hand as it reaches toward mine, aware of the protective shield of energy that hovers between us—an energy I was certain no one could see, until I notice Jude squinting.
I peer at Damen, unable to determine the big hidden thing in his gaze, wondering what he’s doing here, if he somehow sensed this.
His arm tightens around me, pulling me near when he says, “Sorry to interrupt, but Ever and I have somewhere to be.”
I gaze up, drinking him in—the smooth planes of his face, the swell of his lips—the tingle and heat strumming from his body to mine.
Jude rises and follows us into the hall, saying, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to keep her so long.” His hand reaching toward me, glancing my shoulder then falling away as he adds, “Oh, I forgot—the book! Why don’t you take it, it’s not like I need it around here.”
He turns back toward the desk, about to retrieve it from the drawer, and even though I’m tempted to grab it and run, with the way Damen stiffens as Jude’s aura grows brighter—well, it’s beginning to feel like a test. And it’s all I can do to force the words past my lips when I say, “Thanks, but not tonight. Damen and I have plans.”
Damen’s energy relaxes, returning to normal as Jude’s gaze dances between us. “No worries,” he says. “Another time.” Holding the gaze for so long, I’m the first to turn away.