“You can’t hurt me.” Griffin keeps moving toward me.
“I could burn the field.” Memories of the inferno in the woods send panic snapping through me like wildfire.
“You won’t burn the field.”
“You can’t be sure!”
Low and steady, he says, “You can control this.”
I scoff. “Do you even know me? Self-control and I aren’t friends.”
Griffin stops. “I do know you. You’re the strongest, most stubborn, most determined person I’ve ever met. And I’m not talking about self-control. I’m talking about willpower.”
My hands shake, jittery with magic I can’t contain. Usually, I can’t get it out. Now I can’t keep it in? “Isn’t it the same thing?” I ask.
He looks at me hard. “Is it?”
“I don’t know! I just want it to stop.”No, that’s not true.“I want it to come when I need it. I want it gone when I don’t.”
“You need to master this.”
“I don’t even know what this is! Half the time, it’s not even there!”
“Then figure it out.”
“Oh, that’s helpful!”
Griffin flashes me his pirate’s grin, and my insides shift with something that has nothing to do with the magic storm. “You do know what it is.Iknow what it is. Emotion.”
“Emotion?”
He nods. “Fear. You get scared, really and truly scared for someone who is not yourself, and there it is—lightning.”
I keep my lightning-charged hands pressed hard against my stomach. “That doesn’t mean I know how to control it.”
Griffin steps close enough that when our gazes lock, I see the white-gold web around me reflected in his eyes. He dips his head, and his mouth brushes my ear, his voice a rumbling caress. “Excitement.”
I shiver, thunder rolling through me along with his voice.Excitement. A heady thrill did course through me a moment ago. The freedom. The wind. The magic-laced air…
Griffin threads his fingers through my tangled hair, cradling my head with both hands. He tilts my face back. “I see you need a demonstration.”
“A demonstration?” I echo dumbly, my pulse quickening.
His thumbs skate over my jaw. “Delivered in sign language.”
“That’s called a distraction, and it’s probably not the most effective way to calm me down.”
He dips his head and kisses me until my toes curl in my boots. But the soft way his lips move, how he gently holds me—it’s a kiss meant to soothe. Soon enough, the lightning dims, and my hands start to cool.
Griffin pulls back, looking decidedly smug as he slides his boot over some blades of smoldering hellipses grass, extinguishing a budding fire.
“You got lucky,” I tell him, my lips still tingling and warm.
He grins. “I know just what you need. And you love me for it.”
I roll my eyes. “Good Gods, what an ego.”
He spreads his hands. “No more lightning.”
