Page 71 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts

In the vision, she had hesitated – because at the time, she hadn’t been sure it was Mikhail behind her. Now, the thoughts of him being lost forever made sense. But she refused to let them become reality.

His hand slammed against the bed frame, rocking it. It wasn’t a hand at all but a massive paw, black claws unsheathed. In the vision, she’d been crying because fear had overwhelmed her. Amelia, however, wasn’t going to.

Something brushed against her neck. The heat of his presence was just inches away. He sniffed her, and his scent filled her nostrils – familiar, painfully so.

A sudden weight pressed down on her neck, forcing her face into the pillow. With effort, she turned her head to make breathing easier as he bore down on her.

Amelia caught her reflection in the mirror across the room. In the vision, she had broken. She had surrendered. Maybe that was its purpose – to remind her that she was meant to fight for them.

The beast pushed its snout into her face, sniffing her. She shut her eyes. Something soft brushed her cheek. It was not fur.

When Amelia opened her eyes again, Mikhail was in his human form. She glimpsed their reflection in the mirror, their naked bodies. His frame nearly overshadowed hers. They appeared intimate, as if about to make love, rather than what she had braced for just moments earlier.

“Mikhail…”

He retreated from her, scanning the room. She reached out to touch him, but he brushed her hand aside and stood, reaching for his clothes.

“Mikhail, stop. Let’s talk…”

He dressed.

“Mikhail.”

At last, he fixed his gaze on her, his dark expression stopping her in her tracks. “Stay away from me.”

He headed for the door but paused on the threshold. Then he turned back. Walking to the bed, he crouched – not to return to her, but to retrieve Gea’s letter from the floor.

“That’s mine,” Amelia said, sitting up on her knees.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “It’s mine now.”

Mikhail left the room, and she had nothing to wear to follow him. Wrapping the blanket around her body, she stared at theTree of Life carved into the bed frame.

It was ridiculous, how she’d once judged the woman in her vision for her sacrifices, not realising that it had been her all along. In truth, what she’d been willing to endure was a trivial price for fighting to reclaim Mikhail. She was prepared for much more. Yet, she’d achieved nothing.

He’d taken Gea’s letter. She wasn’t angry – she hoped he would read it. At least then, he might learn that his accusations were baseless.

“Interesting tattoo.”

Amelia turned towards the door. Under any other circumstances, she might have felt something, but now she was too numb to care. And, in part, she had been expecting this meeting ever since she’d seen him in her vision.

She met Callan’s amber eyes.

“Apologies,” he said. “I was passing by and noticed the open door. I glimpsed the tattoo on your back for a moment, and it seemed rather fascinating.”

This man sounded nothing like the threat she’d imagined. Then again, her entire perception of him had been coloured by a vision that had evidently merged Mikhail’s actions with Callan’s subsequent arrival.

She tightened the blanket around her chest.

27

Amelia

A single glance was enough for Amelia to recognise that the being before her was no ordinary creature.

He shut the door behind him and stepped into the dimly lit room, letting the candlelight partly illuminate his figure – all taut muscles and an air of refinement. A black shirt clung to his frame, paired with dark jeans that gave him a modern, urban edge. His black hair shimmered with a bluish sheen, with short strands falling over honey-coloured eyes. His features radiated strength, elegance, and beauty.

Yet Amelia wasn’t impressed.