Page 57 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

Mikhail

When they returned to the cabin, everyone was in high spirits – except Mikhail. The death caused by Amelia’s hands was as impressive as it was unsettling. He wouldn’t pry into her feelings or bring it up tonight, but neither did he plan to join in the celebrations as if he had no concerns.

He declined the drink someone offered him, while music played from a phone resting on the kitchen counter.

On Presiyan’s orders, Mor and Alex had prepared the cabin for a feast, stocking the cupboards with alcohol and food.

They had also managed to get the electricity working again, so they wouldn’t have to rely on candlelight.

Presiyan raised his glass of whatever concoction he was drinking. “I hope all our future missions end with the same success and ease!”

Mikhail slumped on the sofa, tempted to remind Presiyan that the mission had been ‘easy’ only for those outside the magical trap.

What would the Tribunal leader do if he discovered Amelia’s peculiar abilities?

Would he treat her as a valuable ally or insist on her elimination?

Mikhail couldn’t decide which side he would favour.

Presiyan drew Jasmina closer and buried his tongue in her mouth, prompting Mikhail to remember the events in the cave earlier that day. His reaction.

He couldn’t help seeking out Amelia. She and Alex were chatting by the window. Amelia was new to this world and unaware of one of its most unyielding rules that had preserved the immortal species for millennia – anything out of the ordinary was to be eradicated at its root.

Tearing his focus away from her, Mikhail engaged in conversation with Mor, who was eager for details about the mission.

Mikhail recounted a brief version, but once again found his attention drifting to Amelia – and the exposed skin above the neckline of her shirt.

She’d been sensible enough to refrain from wearing the necklace until they understood its effects.

Soon tired of feigning interest in the conversation, Mikhail let his thoughts wander wherever they pleased. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a dark figure in the doorway. Callan approached Alex and Amelia, saying something that elicited laughter.

“What’s with the green-eyed monster lurking in your eyes?”

Mikhail swivelled around. Viktor was standing beside him, a knowing grin on his face. “What green-eyed monster?”

“Perhaps you’re remembering your history with Amelia?”

“No.” Mikhail hoped Viktor wasn’t gearing up to play mediator – or worse, matchmaker.

At the far side of the room, Callan handed Amelia a glass of what appeared to be wine.

“Then why the…?” Viktor traced a circle around his own face.

Mikhail understood the meaning but found it absurd, given the context. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“The jealousy, my friend. You’re looking at Callan as if you’re about to rip his head off. Do I need to remind you that he’s a valuable ally against the Queen?”

“I assure you, I have no romantic interest in Callan. I don’t intend to harm him over his unrequited love for me.”

Viktor shook his head. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humour is appalling?”

Mikhail recalled Amelia’s earlier quip about him being duller than a mushroom and allowed himself a faint smile.

He patted Viktor on the back. “You’ve always been a romantic, but this time, do us all a favour and let sleeping dogs lie.

For the good of everyone, some things are best left in the past.”

Before they could veer into yet another pointless discussion, Mikhail stood up and crossed the room. He passed Presiyan and Jasmina, who were dancing in the centre of the cabin, and joined the group by the window.

“…and then that vampire gave up trying to defeat me with magic and beat me senseless with her bare hands,” Callan was saying. “Afterwards, she did listen, and realised I was there to help, not to cause trouble. I suppose there’s a reason magic is the domain of witches alone.”

Alex chuckled as Amelia acknowledged Mikhail’s presence with a fleeting glance.

“You did well today,” he told her.

“Thank you. So did you.”

“Did you seriously almost take part in a witch trivia?” Alex interjected. “Oh, why wasn’t I there? I’d have crushed the competition.”

“ You might have,” Mikhail said. “In our case, it’s a good thing the quiz wasn’t a deciding factor. Otherwise, we’d still be stuck in the Middle Ages.”

Amelia shrugged. “The goal wasn’t to test my knowledge of witchcraft, but for the necklace to… recognise me. As strange as that sounds.”

“It’s not strange,” Callan said. “Soon, you’ll realise that what you wear around your neck – or keep in your pocket, in this case – has a life of its own.”

Mikhail frowned despite himself. Was he the only one unnerved by the way they spoke of these objects, as though they were sentient?

Callan faced him with a smile that seemed designed to charm. “It’s pure power, Korovin. The ring was with you, so I’ll assume you’re lying if you deny its pull. Do you know what it does?”

Mikhail thought back to what he’d read in the Oracle’s letter.

He’d always known the ring had been handed down through generations of his family.

Now, however, his father’s legacy was embodied in an object that had once stripped him of his reason – something he had no desire to experience again.

That was why he’d given up on the idea of finding or reclaiming it.

He had no intention of sharing any of this with Callan, preferring instead to pretend ignorance. If no one had mentioned Gea’s letter to the firstborn, Mikhail wasn’t about to do so. Instead, he said, “I assume you’re going to enlighten me.”

“The ring draws in your darkest emotions, letting you see through them. It swallows them and cleanses you. Some might even say it makes you a better man,” Callan said.

Mikhail glanced briefly at Amelia. “A better man? I doubt anyone would say that about me, with or without the ring.” His words were far from jest. Over the years, he had tormented more than a few creatures while battling the impaired regeneration.

Callan conceded with a faint smile, “I’m certain you’ve always had your reasons for your actions.

In the immortal world, your name carries an excellent reputation.

” He lifted his glass in a small toast. “Though they do say you’re rather stubborn, which is clear in your reluctance to acknowledge the power of the Sacreds. ”

“I don’t deny their power,” Mikhail lied. “I just don’t see it yet.”

The truth was, he had seen it – through the necklace – and he didn’t like it.

Callan redirected his attention to someone far more captivating. He extended his hand to Amelia. “Sunrise is almost here. It would be an honour to watch it with you.”

Amelia hesitated. Mikhail hoped she had enough sense not to reveal what had happened earlier that day – or to accept the invitation.

“Why not?” she said at last, taking Callan’s hand.

Mikhail watched as the firstborn led her away. He considered Callan an ally, but didn’t trust him. Something about the man put Mikhail’s senses on edge whenever he was nearby.

Callan’s attention towards Amelia over the past few days had only increased his suspicion. The way the man lingered close to her, always watching, always within reach... It wasn’t overt, but it was constant.

What unsettled Mikhail more was Amelia’s reaction.

She had started to lower her guard around Callan, speaking to him without the tension she’d previously carried.

She had fought hard against them forming an alliance with Callan, yet with more and more of his appearance, her resistance had begun to weaken.

Callan opened the door for Amelia and, with the faintest motion, placed his hand on the curve of her waist. The touch lasted just long enough to draw a cold weight behind Mikhail’s ribs.

Amelia glanced back over her shoulder, and their eyes met.

Mikhail didn’t flinch. Nor did she. Almost as if she’d expected to find him watching.

***

Mikhail

The next morning, Amelia entered his room, filling the space with her citrusy scent. Mikhail finished reading a paragraph from a book he’d borrowed from Viktor before turning his attention to her. Her hair flowed down her back, exposing her neck enough to reveal she wasn’t wearing the necklace.

He raised an eyebrow. “Good morning?”

Faint silver streaks flickered in her irises. “You said we’d train. I’m here.”

She wanted to train? Excellent.

Mikhail stood, dropping the book on the chair, and crossed the room to her in a few steps. Amelia seemed ready to say more, but before she could, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Did you tell Callan about what you did in the magical trap?”

Her eyes widened at his sudden movement. She frowned, trying to pull her hand away. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Could he provoke her enough to use her power on him?

It would probably hurt, but he was willing to take the risk.

He needed confirmation that it hadn’t been a figment of his imagination.

“After you took off with him last night, am I not to have questions? I don’t trust that man, and neither should you. ”

“Right now, I don’t trust you !” Amelia snapped, shaking her arm in another attempt to break free.

“If that’s true, why are you here? Why haven’t you freed yourself from me? Burned me with necrosis? Struck me? Done something – anything at all?”

She kicked at him – a clumsy move he countered by catching her ankle with his free hand, sending her stumbling back. If not for his grip on her wrist, she would have crashed to the floor.

“A promising start,” he said, steadying her.

She jerked her hand free the moment she regained her footing.

“Do you see how vulnerable you are? How trusting? You came to me willingly, and within thirty seconds, you were almost on the floor.”