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“The moon rising,” I whisper.
The fucking moon is rising. It’s a different pull on my magic than the enchantment—more potent, like a drug, like booze, a shot straight to the magic. It sends it crackling around me, inside of me, fizzing and popping, then stretching and pulsing.
Whoa.
I’ve been through many full moons in my life, though only one without demonblood to control my elemental side. The shift is already tugging on my muscles, my bones, and I don’t want to shift. Fuck, no. It brings back all my fears of being stuck in animal form, long enough to lose reason, not know myself, not know what I’m doing.
It happened once before…
Emrys is on his feet now, too, hissing. “What in the fucking hell is this new devilry? It’s pulling on me.”
“It’s increasing our elemental magic,” Ashton says, his voice strained. “That’s why it’s the best time for the ritual.”
Duh.
“Lovely,” I groan. “As if failing to escape and stop the ritual wasn’t bad enough, now we’re going to shift and lose what little coherent thought we had left.”
“Fuck,” Sindri says viciously. “Fucking shit.”
In spite of everything, it makes me grin. No more obscure fae words and references. It’s been happening a lot more lately. He’s lowered his defenses around us, let go of his fae mannerisms. Stopped playing a role. Allowed himself to be free with us.
We all have.
The magic fizzles again, pulls and pulls, and goddamn, it feels as if my spine will break.
“This fucking sucks,” I grind out.
“Dammit, I won’t fucking shift,” Emrys hisses. “No fucking way.”
“Well, if we shift in here,” I mutter, “then we’ll break down the walls, probably collapse half the building. That’s one way of escaping.”
“Shut up, genius.”
“Yeah, not the best solution. Though if this continues, we may not… have… a choice.”
This moon is the King to the Queen, its pull that of a hundred moons. Golden chains, but chains nevertheless, wrap around us, trying to tear us apart. Without a word, we press closer to each other, grabbing each other—arms, hands, shoulders, taking comfort in being together at least. Holding on to our humanity for as long as we can.
And just when I think we won’t last any longer, the demonblood magic ripples and the door opens.
“Missed me, boys?” Ophelia says. “The moon is out. Time to play.”
They haul us out and for long moments all I can do is breathe in the fresh air. I feel like I’m going through a tunnel toward the light. And once we are out of the building and getting dragged toward the lake, my mind clears a little. The massive pull of the golden moon is still there, the moon itself hanging over our heads like a yellow eye, the pain in my body still increasing as it tries to shift, but the weight on my mind becoming less oppressive.
I can see the sky, the trees. I’m not locked up.
Damn, I hadn’t thought that on top of everything my mind would decide to relive past trauma without asking for my permission.
The trees clear and the lake comes into sight.
Mia is there.
She’s the first thing I see. For a long moment, she’s the only thing I see, the only one that matters. Standing by the lake, her hair loose and whipping in the light wind that makes the water ripple, catching the hem of the same long dress she wore last night, the same dress we tore off her last night, the dress she wore to a party not so long ago.
But so much has changed.
Everything, for starters. What I know. What I understand. About the past. About myself. What I feel for the other three boys.
And for her.
