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She continued, “You are annoying and obtuse and—and—”
“And what?” Roman growled.
“And a pain in my ass!”
“That’s one thing we have in common.”
She shoved him in the chest and stomped away.
“I believe you owe me a thanks!” he called.
She whirled back around, her hair fanning out over her shoulders. “For what? For barking orders at me and calling it a lesson?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Yup.”
“You,” she pointed at him, “are a stuck-up asshole.”
“Did you not touch me just now without zapping me?”
“Can you be quiet?” she hissed, eyes darting around.
“Answer the question.”
She crossed her arms. “I might’ve,” she gritted out.
“You don’t need medication, Shayla. Unless it’s the kind that’ll help with the pain. What you need is to learn how to control your magic. You need outlets. Keeping all that power pent up inside you is only going to wind up hurting you in the end.”
She started pacing.
“Magic is not meant to be caged,” he went on. “Whether this is about Athene or not, you’re going to have to face it eventually. And when you do, you can’t be afraid of it.”
“My doctor told me quitting cold turkey is dangerous.”
“So wean off of it.”
She stopped pacing. “I caused it to rain after being off of it for less than twenty four hours,” she whispered. “Who knows what’ll happen if days pass. Weeks.”
“So find out.”
“All it takes is one little lightning bolt in front of my mom, and she’ll lock me up like she did Anna.” She stared out at the horizon—bright again. No clouds, no rain. No one had even noticed—no one but them. Her and Roman, the slayer who knew too much. “I’ll never get away from the Riptide.”
“Tell me why Nugget’s still a pup.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Why’s he still a pup and you’re—what, nineteen? Twenty?”
“I turn twenty next month.” She studied him. “What are you getting at?”
“How long have you been taking your medication?”
“Since I was eight, I think. My dad got me on it when he was still alive. He told me to never stop taking it and to never tell anyone that I’m on it. And I don’t want to stop taking it because…” She swallowed. Admitted, “It hurts too much. The headaches.”
“That’s the pent-up magic.”
“Not all of it. I have scar tissue in my shoulder and neck muscles.” Her hand drifted toward the left side of her neck—to the pain no one could see. The pain that was so bad some days that she was forced to stay in bed with an ice pack. “I had a swimming accident when I was very young. I tore the muscles, and they never fully healed.”
“And they act up from the weather?”
