Page 64 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts (Hospital for Immortal Creatures #3)

“All right.” She nodded, and he was about to leave when she called out, “Mikhail?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. Her gaze had dropped to her hand, which was tucked into her pocket. “The necklace…”

He tensed. “Don’t tell me it’s gone.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s here. But… it suddenly started burning.”

Mikhail checked the hallway, making sure they were alone, then stepped into her room and closed the door behind him. Amelia lifted her hand from her pocket, the necklace gleaming in her open palm.

Then, it changed. One of the snake’s heads darkened to an onyx black, while the other gleamed with a pearly brilliance. The base twisted into a spiral of black and white, swirling around a central axis. The snakes’ heads elongated, intertwining with each other.

Holding her breath, Amelia watched the magic unfold in her palm. Her bright blue eyes, now so vivid, reflected the light like a mirror.

A strange shiver ran through Mikhail. The sight before him could only be described as beautiful. The necklace. Her.

Amelia raised her gaze to his and, for reasons he couldn’t explain, his pulse quickened.

“When your eyes behold the true necklace,” she whispered, as if afraid to disturb the power in her hand, “the two heads of the snake come to life and begin their eternal struggle – between good and evil, darkness and light… The witcher said, ‘Imagine holding the necklace and grasping the threads of life itself, of birth itself.’ Maybe I’m imagining it,” she said, looking at him, “but it came alive when you appeared.”

Mikhail hated magic with every fibre of his being, yet he was more tempted than ever to inch closer. But it wasn’t the necklace’s brilliance that drew him in.

He stepped towards Amelia and turned his palm upwards beneath hers, gently closing her fingers over the necklace until it was concealed. He wasn’t sure why he had done it. Perhaps he wanted to see if he could still find magic in her without the necklace casting its glow on her face.

The contact made her draw in a sharp breath. When he withdrew his hand and she uncurled her fingers, the snakes had reverted to their previous form. But his impulse hadn’t diminished one bit.

Before he could reconsider, he reached out with his free hand and brushed her hair back. He should have retreated after such a reckless gesture… Instead, his fingers drifted lower, skimming the soft curve of her neck.

Feeling the rapid pulse beneath them, he found it impossible not to imagine tracing a path with his nose along her skin. To lose himself in her scent before abandoning the last of his self-control.

Her silver-white eyes pierced him, sending a pang through his chest. In this form, she was hauntingly beautiful – a chilling reminder of Amelia’s true essence, and of a danger that far exceeded anything his former fiancée had ever posed.

Mikhail wanted to trace the curve of her full lower lip with his finger, then follow its path with his tongue.

You don’t truly desire her.

His fingers closed around the delicate column of her throat. He wondered if she realised just how fragile she was compared to him, how little effort it would take for him to snap her neck. How easily he could subdue her.

His thoughts, combined with Amelia’s willingness to submit to his dominance, terrified him as much as they enticed him. He was on the verge of crossing the final threshold that kept him outside of her influence.

She was the embodiment of one of the things he despised most – magic.

Yet, he had to maintain good relations with her to find the Sacreds.

He’d already made a mistake with her once in the past, leading to the loss of his father’s inheritance and his capture by the Queen.

Doing so again would be complete folly. And he was no fool.

He summoned every ounce of willpower to release her and stepped back. As soon as he no longer felt the warmth of her skin mere millimetres away, a hollow sense of disappointment engulfed him.

She shut her eyes as if trying to shake off what had just happened. Damn it, why had he touched her?

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“For what?”

He left without answering her question, nor did he address the peculiar ‘awakening’ of the necklace in his presence.

Returning to his own room, he was more unsettled than before. He was losing his mind, as well as any control over his inner self. He had acted like a feral beast and then fled like a coward because he couldn’t offer a rational explanation for his actions.

He needed something to ground him. He needed… relief.

Mikhail locked himself in the bathroom, desperate to get rid of the burgeoning desire. Yet, as his hand moved to the zipper of his trousers, it faltered midway.

Damn it. Was he really aroused by magic? By a woman steeped in magic?

This time, there was no enchanted ring to blame for his desires.

Even as he recognised Amelia bore no fault for what had happened, he closed his eyes, imagining her gaze, filled with longing for him. He wanted to punish her – for desiring him despite everything he’d done to her.

A sensation of déjà vu swept over him. For something already experienced. For something unfinished .

He freed himself and slowly ran his hand along his length, a low growl escaping his throat. He imagined her hands there instead, the intimacy of her touch igniting his arousal further.

Just for a fleeting moment, he pictured himself returning to her room, positioning her on her hands and knees atop the bed, and sinking into her repeatedly until he drew every ounce of magic from her being, leaving only pure, unadulterated pleasure in her mind.

No matter how much he tried to forget, he still remembered the taste of her lips from that single kiss they’d shared after he’d woken up in the cabin.

He recalled the feel of her bare body beneath him – the feminine curves he’d revealed by tearing away her clothing.

He should have been ashamed of his actions, but there was no guilt – only a tight, hollow ache, like something had been stolen from him.

His hand clenched tighter around his throbbing length, moving faster and faster. He was desperate to finish, to erase all the images from his mind.

In his past, he’d had many lovers, but he suspected Amelia would be unlike any of them. Perhaps he wouldn’t take her from behind. He would look into her face, watching the transformation in her fiery eyes as he brought her to the brink.

The release hit him, sudden and powerful. He punched the wall, muffling a primal cry into a deep, guttural growl. The tile cracked, and a small shard of ceramic fell to the floor.

“Damn it!” He grabbed a towel, wiping the warmth from his hand.

Damn it.

Lingering in this cabin was turning into a psychological prison.