A weight fell over me, and when Evera cast her gaze to the floorboards, I suspected she sensed my hesitation, my fear, through our bond. Still, she held firm, unwavering.
I heaved a sigh and left her to stand before the dresser. With my back to her, I stepped out of my pants, folded them, and placed them neatly in one of the drawers before pulling my shirt over my head and placing it there as well.
When I peered over my shoulder, Evera turned her eyes quickly away. For all she frustrated me at times, I could not bring myself to feel any bitterness toward her, not when her bashfulness reddened her cheeks and caused her to flutter her lashes and suck in her lips.
“Your shyness amuses me,” I admitted, returning to her.
“I am not shy,” she countered, finally breaking her gaze from the hearth to meet my eyes.
“No? Are you certain?” I took one of her hands and placed it on my chest so that she might feel the beating of my heart, quickened by her presence and by the trickle of desire that came to me from the invisible threads of our bond.
“I—” Her eyes lowered, as did her hand. She trailed her touch over the ridges of my muscles.
I began to stir for her. The sensation was still so new, so conflicting. While my aching for her was truly unlike anything else, it also troubled me. It signaled a lack of control.
Closing my eyes, I released a steadying breath and focused my thoughts. “This may do nothing,” I warned. “It may be that I simply do not have abilities.”
Raising her gaze again, she lifted her chin in a show of stubbornness. “I understand.”
A faint nervousness tugged at me, and I dipped my forehead to hers for support. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see this.”
Evera’s body trembled in my embrace, and a swirl of muddled emotions rushed through the bond. I kissed each of her eyelids in turn.
Taking a step back, I let out a breath and released my control to the monster, the beast that stirred within. He took it without hesitation. Eager, greedy, desperate. Fear, raw and unhinged, surged. Squinting my eyes shut, I gasped as the heat began to build.
Lips brushed mine, and my eyes shot open. Evera, having stepped to me, cupped my face in her hands, and I lowered my forehead again to hers, my breathing ragged.
“Do not resist this. Give him your control. You must do so willingly. Please, Neir, try for me.”
Neir—what Harlan called me. What Thatch once had as well. Trembling, I fought back as waves of surging heat rolled through me.
“Close your eyes,” I rasped through gritted teeth.
“No.”
I sucked in a breath. Evera couldn’t watch the transition. For her to look upon me and call me a monster … I trembled.
Kissing me again, firmly this time, Evera drew me from the nightmare of my memories. She spoke against my lips, her words a command. “Give in willingly. Trust me.”
Trust her. Scrunching my nose, I shuddered, then I let go. I released all control and hooded my eyes as the searing heat built. And then … it disappeared. The burning ebbed to a liquid warmth. Fluid, as it was the night death had loomed over me. Calmed by Evera’s scent, already more potent as my senses heightened, I relaxed.
Instead of breaking, my bones warped. Though there was still a tightness to the pull of my skin, it didn’t rip or tear. There was no scent of blood in the air aside from the lingering traces from the night Cyan and I fought.
As the shift took me, my legs gave out, and Evera’s arms supported me as I fell to the floor. Blinking blearily as if in a haze, I held her gaze as I shed the last of my control. I closed my eyes and a chilled breath left my lungs, soothing, calming. New.
When my fox opened his eyes, Evera knelt before him. Awe laced her features. Not fear, not disgust.
My fox keened, and she stroked the side of his face. He rubbed against her touch.
“He’s incredible,” she breathed.
Incredible.
Putting his paws on one of her knees, he sought her scent at her neck. With Evera kneeling like this, the animal stood roughly the same height as her. He was big for a fox, nearer to the size of a wolf.
Evera giggled as his nose brushed beneath her ear, leaving a trail of wetness. How easily his jaws could clamp around herneck. Yet, she trusted him completely. The animal whined and drew back to meet her eyes. In this form, their vibrant sage was a pale, muted gray.
“It’s alright,” she said, though I was unsure if she was talking to me or the fox. Was she sensing my emotions? Or his? Or simply responding to his whimper?
