Page 140

Someone shrieks.

The crowd parts, and Kian strides straight for me. Power crackles out of him, and my jaw drops. He’s⁠—

With a flick of his wrist, icy water creeps up my leggings. I spot the puddles under my feet and frown when it doesn’t just crystalize, it solidifies.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I tug at my foot, but the ice holds fast. “What is this?”

Kian stops in front of me and grips my throat. I let out a squeak, but his hold tightens. Water bleeds from his fingers, rolling down my skin.

He has magic?

And he’s completely lost it.

His eyes are dark, with no sign of the bright blue of his wolf. He’s gone mad, succumbing to the magic that’s built up inside him.

Power can consume a witch if she’s not careful. I sat diligently and absorbed stories about witches who used too much power. Sometimes their magic temporarily burns out–like the Utah coven when they tried to rip away my mate bond. Other times, the power takes over and burns its host out. The mind never recovers from that.

It was always in the context of witches, though.

As far as I know, shifters don’t have magic.

But Kian clearly does, and he’s about to be swallowed up by it. I’ll admonish him, or hate him, for keeping the secret later. Right now, I have to help him.

Against my better judgment, I reach for his face. I cup his cheek. The hand around my throat squeezes, and the air stalls in my lungs. My chest burns, my face heats. Around us, the supernatural beings who were dancing, who were messing with me, are trying to scramble away. But the ice holds them, too.

Kian’s eyes flood completely black, and the people around us start screaming.

I cast a glance at them, my brows lowering. I don’t understand why until one faces me, and I spot the blood running out of his eyes. Bleeding tears. It comes out of his nose, it’s on his lips. My own mouth opens and closes.

It isn’t affecting me, I don’t think, but it still isn’t good.

Okay, okay.

Come on, magic.

The ice stabs into my legs, like it’s trying to eviscerate me. The sharp pain brings tears to my eyes. My magic is nowhere, and his is everywhere.

Draw it out.

That voice is my mother’s, not my own. It’s like a shadow crawling up out of the depths of my memory, but I cannot tell if it’s friend or foe.

More people fall to Kian’s water magic. I’ll be one of them if I don’t catch my breath.

So, the same way I would to a plant or the earth, I pull his magic into me. There’s such a well of it, I doubt he realizes what’s happening at first. Or perhaps he’s never had a witch try this with him—I’d guess this is a closely guarded secret in his pack.

A wolf with witch magic.

And yet, as I draw it out of him, it merges with my magic like they’ve known each other forever. I could get high on this feeling. It doesn’t blister or burn, it feels like… sunshine. The good kind.

He jerks, his black eyes coming back to mine, and I grip the sides of his face harder. I hold him and mentally yank, the pressure inside me climbing, until I can’t contain it anymore either.

However, I can direct it. Like a sliver of my own magic, but fifty times more potent, I create.

Storm clouds form above us, rolling and dark. Thunder cracks. Rain pours down again, but it’s warm. This water touches both of us, and my hair and clothes are soaked in seconds.

His grip on my throat loosens.

Thanks for that lesson, Mom.