Page 93 of The Immortal’s Mark

He tugs me toward the villa.

I stumble after him. “I’m fine. A quick shower will wake me right up.”

He huffs, but doesn’t argue, leading me through the front doors.

Inside the villa are a cozy kitchen, a breakfast nook, and a study. At the back of the first floor sits a quaint living room with a modest TV. It would be a tight fit if all of us tried to convene in the space.

We pass a wide dining room with a massive wood table on our way to the stairs, and I make a note to set my phone’s alarm for an hour from now.

Still clutching Gregory’s hand, we climb to the second floor, and we’re greeted by the sight of a cloaked figure standing in front of one of the many doors that branch off the hall.

“You will sleep here,” Mistress Lola says.

It takes a moment to realize she’s speaking to me.

“What?” I blink, then frown. “Why?”

“Your mother and I are sleeping here.” She motions to the door to the left of the one she indicated is mine. “We need you close to ensure you are protected.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“No?” Her eyes dip to where my hand rests in Gregory’s. “We disagree.”

Gregory’s fingers flex, but he doesn’t release me.

Irritation pricks my tongue, but I am exhausted. I don’t have it in me to argue.

“Fine,” I clip out.

She dips her chin. “When the day is done, be sure to sleep. We begin your training tomorrow. We’ll start with grounding exercises. Your gift is strongest when your emotions are balanced.”

I snort. “Then we’re in trouble.”

Her gaze sharpens. “I mean it, child. If you cannot control what you feel, you will never control what you are.”

The words strike hard.

I swallow and nod. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” She turns away and disappears into the bedroom.

Through the opening, I catch a glimpse of my mother. She lies on one of two twin beds inside, staring at the ceiling. Her gaze drops to me just before Mistress Lola closes the door.

Moisture gathers behind my eyes.

I scowl and rub them away with my free hand.

Mistress Lola is right. I’m tired.

That’s the only reason I’m emotional.

It’s definitely not because the woman who abandoned me as a child is just feet away and has yet to speak to me.

No.

She’s only stared. As if she’s waiting for me to make the first move.

But that’s not my job.