Yet even so, she wasn’t prepared for the punch of it.
The way the momentum flattened her against his chest, hardenough that it hurt. How she wanted to scream and couldn’t because all the oxygen in her had been knocked right out. And oh god, when she managed to open her eyes. When she glanced down, and saw the sheer amount of empty air they were briefly suspended over. The swirl of that river beneath them, so suddenly small.
It was impossible. It was unimaginable.
And then he hit the ground on the other side, and somehow things only got more mind-blowing. Because it didn’t send them both careening into the trees, or cause a big jarring jolt to go through her body. Instead, he seemed to control the whole thing, utterly. He stayed on his feet, and sort of slid. She looked down and saw his sneakers forming two deep furrows in the dirt. And as he did all of this, he just put a hand to the back of her head. He laid his arm diagonally across her back, like a seatbelt. To absorb all the impact, she realized.
And it worked.
She felt almost nothing.
Apart from a great rush of awe, of course. Oh god, she had never felt so much awe in her life. Because holy fuck, he was really something that incredible. He could really do those things. He had supernatural powers, and they were amazing and beautiful, and oh she just couldn’t stop herself from saying so, she just couldn’t. Not after that.
It all came tumbling out, as he set her down on her feet.
“You aretrulya magical thing,” she gushed.
But here was the strangest part—she didn’t even regret it.
Even though she’d sounded so breathless, even though her hands were somehow still on his chest as she spoke, even though she knew she was looking at him with wildly marveling eyes and a dizzy grin plastered over her face, she didn’t. And after a moment, she processed why:
Because he had made it all right to.
Because he’d said those things and undone one of the barriers between them. And now he was looking down at her upturned face, the same way he’d looked up at the sky when she’d said she trusted him. All faintly disbelieving relief and surprised happiness.
Like he couldn’t believe she would be so open and warm toward him.
And that just made her want to be more so. To be sweeter. To take his face in her hands and say that everything was okay now. So she did. She clasped him there like a long-lost friend, finally seeing someone after years apart. Not bothered about it, not worried, no fear of anything going wrong. Then she watched, delighted, as his expression mirrored hers. It lifted into something like awe, too. As if she had done something just as magical, somehow.
But it only lasted a second.
Then for some reason, it started to melt. It slid down, from sheer bliss to something else. Something that could only be described as panic. And it panicked her, for a moment. She almost pulled away, embarrassed.
But then he jerked back.
He groaned. He clutched his stomach.
And she knew. She knew.
“Oh my god, are you turning?” she gasped out.
Much to his distress. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening,” he said. Like he didn’t want to accept it, either. But was being forced to, anyway.
“What do you mean you don’t know what’s happening?”
“This feels new. It feels weird. I can’t explain it.”
Oh fuck,she thought.The soup. The soup has done this.
“I told you that you shouldn’t drink anything I made,” she groaned.
But he just shook his head in a vigorous, jittery sort of way. Like he could shake the wolf out of him, alongside the denial. Though, of course, it didn’t have any effect at all. When he finally managed to answer her, she could see the razor edge of those teeth, glinting beneath the curve of his upper lip.
“I can feel your magic fighting it. But whatever this is, it’sstrong. It feels like it’s burning me up from the inside out. Like some kind of fever,” he gasped out, in between all the pacing and heavy breathing and her own futile attempts to calm him down.
“Then maybe do the things you said. The meditation-type stuff.”
“I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying. It’s going too fast.”
