Not emotional bleed-off.
Raw lunar energy.
My energy.
Recognition slammed through me so hard it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
Mine.
The possessive thought came immediately afterward, dark and instinctive and terrifyingly pleased by the sight of her magic reacting to me.
To us.
Her eyes locked onto mine across the ruined hallway.
Moonbeam pale.
Bright with fury.
And beneath it—concern.
For me.
Not fear.
Not disgust.
Concern.
Even after watching me nearly beat a Werewolf unconscious in broad daylight.
Gods.
I was done for.
Completely.
Professor Kenna’s silver-green bindings tightened painfully around my chest, finally dragging my attention away from Amrin and back toward the present disaster.
The corridor looked like a war zone.
Broken glass glittered across ancient stone floors. Destroyed enchanted sculptures sparked weakly from the ceiling where Gunner and I had smashed through the floating display.
Several graduate students still crowded the edges of the hallway whispering excitedly while pretending not to stare at the Wolf’s still partially exposed dick.
Honestly, that part remained funny.
Gunner, unfortunately, did not share my amusement.
“This freak attacked me!” he snarled as the professor hauled us both forward through the hall toward the administrative tower.
“Oh shut the fuck up,” I muttered.
Professor Kenna stopped so abruptly both magical restraints jerked tight enough to nearly dislocate my shoulder.
The professor turned slowly.
Dangerously slowly.
