Rare Form: Descended of Dragons, Book 1 (10 page)

P
ia’s excellent guidance system
, which I termed ‘PiaMaps’, indicated that Gresham’s home was less than a mile from Caliph Square, so I walked in order to see more of the city.

I felt naughty striking out on my own. Exploring beyond Radix’s boundaries was both freeing and frightening. Looking up the hillside at the gleaming lights of the Radix campus I was reminded of the magnitude of its history within Thayer, as well as its new role in my life. As gas pathway lamps and well-lit residences shone atop the hill, so too had Radix become a beacon of self-discovery and improvement for me.

But as I left the Square, the inky shadows of nightfall quickly pressed in on me. Before too long I looked over my shoulder at every stray noise. I wished I had asked for a ride; surely someone had a car. But come to think of it, I hadn’t seen a single car since entering Thayer. I supposed if one could go anywhere at the speed of thought, there wasn’t much use for them. No wonder Gresham went all out when renting a car.

“How much farther, Pia?” I felt like I’d walked three miles.

“Rowan Gresham’s house is approximately one hundred yards east. Take your next right.”

As I briskly passed the line of neatly maintained brick row houses, I rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, thinking a)
w-o-w
, and b)
this cannot be the right place.
Gresham’s house wasn’t a house at all, but a manor.

The street ended at massive iron gates anchored by towering stone pillars. A stone wall ran the length of the lane to the gate, so that the property within was obscured from view. Ancient trees rose behind the border and occasionally drooped lazily over it, causing the stones below to grow green with lichen.

I slowed to appreciate the lovely facade and mature landscaping, which included an assortment of herbs and ground cover. I stopped to run lavender, thyme, and mint leaves between my fingers, delighting in the familiar smells. At the manor’s entrance I caught a glimpse of the house beyond and stared, mouth agape, for several moments.

It wasn’t opulent or flashy; it was tasteful and classically lovely. Stunning in its symmetry. The marbled beige limestone structure was square, with each of its four corners anchored by two-story square turrets. Paned windows gave the property the feel of a modernized estate, rather than a castle. Several chimneys were visible from the front of the house, stretching from the gray roof toward the stars.

A lot of house for one man. Of course, a manor this size probably required a staff.

I found the iron gates slightly ajar, and sidled in. I knocked nervously on the large front door. In no time, a freshly-showered Gresham greeted me with wet hair and smelling of aftershave.

“Stella. Please, come in.”

“Oh, your home is beautiful,” I gushed. “If I’m late it’s because I was entranced by your garden on the way in.”

“Thank you. I’ve worked for years to get it into shape.” Then, almost shyly, “You liked the garden?”

“Oh, yes. What I could see was just lovely, and so well thought out. Do you do some of the work yourself?”

“I do.” He nodded and led me through the spacious foyer. “I find the feel of working warm soil in my hands supremely cathartic.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. Planting keeps me grounded,” I said and his mouth turned up just a bit. “Saw that on a T-shirt.” I was nervous. “I know sometimes big houses like this have names. Does this one? Have a name?”

“It does,” he said. “Caraway Manor,”

“Caraway, like the herb? The seed?”

“Yes. Besides the gardens you may have seen on the way in, I have an heirloom garden out back. I’ll show you sometime when it’s light out.”

“I’d love that. I won’t have much opportunity for gardening at Sabre, you know.”

“You’re welcome here anytime you need to get your hands dirty. Would you like some coffee? A glass of wine before we begin?”

I accepted coffee, and followed him to the kitchen in the back of the house. ‘House’ was such an inadequate word for the place, but while it was huge and hundreds of years old, it was also warm and lived-in. Plush rugs covered the floors, woven blankets were thrown atop furniture that had obviously been chosen both for utility and style. A set of built-ins covered an entire wall and not just books, but antiquities and interesting trinkets dotted the shelves. It was his home and I loved it; it said a lot about the man who I had found extremely difficult to read.

The kitchen was a generous open space with classic bones and worn hardwood floors, but also top of the line modern appliances, such as a gleaming copper oven. It was a chef’s dream kitchen, and I wondered if he cooked. My impression so far was that he was something of a Renaissance man. My guess was that he did.

“Sugar? Cream?” Gresham asked as he poured us two steaming cups of coffee from a French press.

We sat at a comfortable banquette surrounded by the windows facing the back gardens. An open window allowed a soft breeze to deliver cool evening air redolent of soil and lavender. I closed my eyes to savor the extravagant pleasures of my surroundings and the taste of gourmet coffee still hot on my tongue. When I opened my eyes, unaware of how long they’d been closed, Gresham was staring at me, head cocked to the side, with a look of…wonder on his face. In the absence of judgment or mirth on his part, I felt no embarrassment and simply smiled up at him. After a beat he shook himself and began my lesson.

“Stella, the important thing to remember in the search for your animal form is that only you can find it. All the special tutoring in Thayer cannot access that door within you unless you open it yourself mind and body.”

“I am open to it,” I started defensively, but caught myself. Took a breath. “I just don’t know the first place to begin.”

“I know. That’s why we’re here. And I know the concept will be especially difficult for you. You face a significant learning curve, but if you’re open-minded and committed, and give yourself over to the possibility of this magic, then you’ll find it as surely as anyone.”

His confidence was contagious and fortifying. Deep down I knew I could do it; I just hadn’t the first clue
how
.

“All right, now stand up,” he instructed as he left his own seat to join me. The soft cotton of his black T-shirt allowed the faintest of outlines of his strong chest and shoulders. His charcoal trousers were looser than usual and hung low on his hips. His relaxed-at-home look? My thoughts vaulted back to the image of his glistening chest and abs that I glimpsed on Pia’s screen. I forced my gaze away, shaking my head to clear the raw sexiness of the man who was now effectively my teacher.

Unsure of the dress code for learning one’s inner beast at a hot older guy’s place after eight, I had pulled my hair up in a loose chignon and chosen a classic ensemble. I paired a black polka-dot dress with an olive green handbag and shoes. A thin black belt cinched the narrow waist. This was my go-to first date outfit, but he didn’t have to know that.

Gresham stood close—too close—behind me and lay his fingertips lightly atop my shoulders.

“Close your eyes, Stella.”

I did, though with hesitation. I felt vulnerable. And a bit silly.

He leaned forward to speak soothingly at my ear. “Now, breathe in deeply, Stella, and try to see in your mind’s eye your source of power. Some people picture this chakra as their actual heart; some as a radiating source of light. Whatever you imagine that cache of power to be, concentrate on the physical appearance of it.”

I had taken several yoga classes over the course of my college years. This was, of course, unbeknown to my mother, who believed her preacher when he taught that meditation left a soul open to the influence of demons. I had always found the breathing exercises extremely relaxing, and practical in a stressful environment like college sometimes was. The devil had not made his way into my subconscious, to my knowledge.

I utilized this yogi experience and breathed in solidly through my nose. I blew out through slightly pursed lips. As I breathed, I recalled my first glimpse of my chakra in Craft class.

In through the nose; out through the mouth.

Thinking about Craft made me think of Dean Livia Miles.

In through the nose; out through the mouth.

Thinking of Dean Miles made me wonder how many times she had sat at this very table for breakfast after an overnight at Gresham’s.

In through the nose; out through the mouth.

Thoughts of Dean Miles and Gresham being intimate gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, which was so not the place I was supposed to be concentrating.

With a sharp exhale, I opened my eyes and turned to face Gresham.

“Sorry. My mind keeps wandering,” I said, dejected.

“It’s all right,” he assured me with a nod of his head. “You’ll get this. It isn’t supposed to be easy. There’s a reason students are taught technique in class, as well as by a hands-on advisor. Do you want to try again, or would you prefer to break for a bit?”

I turned back around and closed my eyes in silent indication. “Good girl. Now, start your breathing again. That was good.”

As I breathed in and out, actively clearing my mind of thought, of outside sources of angst or worry, Gresham’s hands once again landed lightly on my shoulders. I could’ve sworn he’d moved even closer behind me. The sound of his soft breathing, the feel of his breath as he exhaled above my neck soon took over my thoughts and dashed my efforts to clear my mind. I began concentrating on the feel of the minuscule vibrations of the hairs at the back of my neck. A heated weight formed deep in my belly; my body telling me there was a vacant space yearning to be filled. I knew that feeling, though it had been some time since I’d felt it; and certainly not just by the innocent contact of breath on my nape. Eyes closed, I delighted in the feeling, and let my mind wander. I could almost feel him leaning into me, his lips not just blowing air onto my neck, but leisurely kissing me there. I wanted to feel the heat of his body, those strong pectorals against my back. Instinctively I arched my back, reaching for that contact but stopped short just in time.

I was embarrassed that I’d almost backed up to him like a cat in heat. My cheeks were hot with shame, as well as the beginning stirrings of irritation. Was Gresham’s contact innocent? I tried to imagine Timbra or even Boone’s advisors standing this closely to them, touching their shoulders ever-so-softly. I doubted they were facing the same scenario that I was. Further, I doubted they were being tutored after hours at the home of their advisor. What had I been thinking? What was
Gresham
thinking? Did he invite me here to teach me to find my inner self, or to get near me? The more I thought about it, the stupider I felt. And when I remembered the fact that he was seeing someone, I did get pissed.

Jerking out of Gresham’s reach I turned on him, my gaze throwing darts. To his credit, he was startled and, I did note, flaccid. Still, I thought it best to re-evaluate what I had gotten myself into.

“I think that’s enough for tonight, Gresham,” I said as I grabbed the wooden handle of my handbag.

“All right, Stella. We’ll go at the pace that you feel most comfortable. A good effort tonight; a good beginning,” he said.

Still wary, I thanked him for the coffee and complimented his lovely home. I passed briskly by the statued fountain and toward the black iron gate.

I decided what I really needed was a beer, and imagined my next footfall landing outside Sabre Bar.

I did it, no problem. That little feat went a long way to lighten my mood, as did spotting my friends surrounding a high pub table near the dartboard. I ordered a beer from Knox, avoiding his attempt to chat me up.

A few beers and a few rounds of darts put the night’s events in perspective. I realized with no small sense of shame that Gresham had not actually come on to me; I had let my raging hormones cloud my judgment. Good lord, I had to get a grip on my libido before I embarrassed myself further.

So the man invited me to his lovely estate and served me coffee. At night. Big deal. So he stood fairly close behind me and touched my shoulders. So what. He had told me on more than one occasion that Root students were all consenting adults; not college kids. The fact was that I let my own overwhelming attraction to him freak me out.

Before crashing into my new favorite place—my comfy bed—I resolved not to get in the way again of my much-needed education on all things mystical.

I
am frustrated
to report I have had no real progress toward finding my animal form. After discovering that the key lay in my chakra, I have practiced flexing it, so to speak, and can say with confidence that I understand it, and consequently, myself, a little better. That’s all I got, really, at this point.

Despite her poor treatment of me, Dean Miles is unquestionably intelligent and talented. I have taken her advice to heart, and am seeking any and all knowledge that I can acquire. I have thrown myself into books and classes, interviewing my professors at length for more information. At first they were delighted in my interest, but now I fear they find me irritating. Doesn’t matter. I read and I research and I practice.

I have never feared hard work. I WILL close the gap on the advantage that my classmates have on me.

Oh, and for what it’s worth, I totally made it longer than a week. Those suckers making bets I wouldn’t last lost. Big time.