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“Is there a law against it? Is it… Ugh, fuck.” His face goes pale, and he stumbles back a step. “Fuck.”
“Rys? What’s the matter?” The underwear falls from my hands as I step after him. “Are you screwing with me?”
“It’s…a fucking surge. In the magic, in my blood. Hell…” He grimaces as his tattoos move and writhe on his skin, morphing into a pattern of scales. He lifts one hand, and his nails are turning into claws.
“Call it back, Rys,” I whisper. “Control it.”
“I can’t. Elemental magic is a pain in the ass.” He hisses, his eyes paling to amber, the slits turning vertical. He bares his teeth and they’re sharp like broken glass. “You should get away from me. In case I lose control completely.”
“No. Not leaving you.”
“Mia…”
“You can control it. Try harder.”
He shudders, the scales flowing down his arms, down his neck. His head falls back. He’s shaking. What is this thing? It’s as if he’s trying to shift into something else—a dragon? There’s a sound like a bone cracking, and he cries out.
“Rys!” I don’t have magic but I’m not going away while he’s in pain, while there’s a chance that he could be a danger to himself.
“Help me,” he hisses. “You’re a witch. Help me control it.”
“I…”
“Please, Mia…”
There’s an electric spark when I place my hand on his skin, and then a humming I can feel in my bones.
“Ooh, that’s good.” He shivers. “Damn.”
“Rys, if you’re doing this on purpose to make me touch you…”
“If I wanted you to touch me like that,” he mutters, “I’d have moved your hand elsewhere.”
Right. Good point. Also, he can’t be faking the scales and the way his body is shaking. I move my hand up his arm to stroke his neck.
He catches it, presses it to his mouth. His body slumps forward. “Holy shit.” His breath tickles my knuckles. He’s still shaking. “This was the worst so far. Dammit.”
I wrap my other arm awkwardly around him, splay my hand against the solid muscles of his lower back. “You’re okay.”
I’m much shorter than him. He buries his face in my hair and pulls me against him. It’s like a déjà vu from five minutes ago but the shudders running through his muscular body are a reminder that this is a different kind of proximity.
Until he huffs and says, “You know what would really help?”
“No, what?”
“Sleeping with me.”
I pull back to look up at his face and find him grinning. He’s still pale but his grin is normal. Human. “Be serious for once, Rys.”
“Iamserious. I never joke about sex.”
“Rys…”
“And I see he’s feeling better,” a familiar voice says from the door.
I jerk and turn around.
“Ronan Ashton,” Emrys mutters, not moving a muscle. “The king of bad timing. Did you take a course on how to be the most annoying person on earth?”
