Page 53 of Centaur Bolt

As an instructor, he certainly lacked clarity. I tromped around, but this section of shore was sandy. Only a few small rocks sat beneath the water.

“If you toss it along this stretch, should be fine,” I said.

“What are you using as your triangulation points?” he asked.

I stifled my impatience and looked around. “The beach. The bench. And that boulder.” I pointed to where it emerged from the waves about thirty feet away.

“Excellent,” he purred as I waded back out of the water.

“Don’t you have to be out there to see if my Jump is like hers?” I pointed out.

He grimaced. “Water is not my friend.”

I stared at him. He sighed, set Sparkle on the bench, and pulled off his boots before rolling up his pant legs. I fixated on his odd, yet somehow sexy, two-toed feet before I ripped my gaze away.

His scent must be strong for me to think they were attractive. I’d never been a foot fetish kind of gal.

He cleared his throat. “Do you have your strategy down this time? Perhaps we shouldn’t tap so deeply into your emotions.”

Geez. Who knows where my subconscious might take me if I freaked out. Or what I’d look like when I got there.

Which could be an issue if Jacques was too close. “Just go far enough that you can observe,” I said.

“Believe me, I won’t be going in any farther than I absolutely have to,” he assured me as he waded in. When he stopped, he held up the ball. “Ready?”

I nodded, and he tossed it. It bobbed on the waves.

I closed my eyes and visualized the ball. The way the water had felt around my legs. And then, when it was obvious it wasn’t enough, I swallowed and thought about how I’d felt when those Dires had thrown the net over us—

This time, I recognized the sudden surge of white noise, and when I embraced the fear I’d felt, the sensation of being trapped…

Snap.

I was aware of golden light, and the impression of embers. Fire? Then I smacked butt-first into the water.

Or I would have if it had still been there. The water rose in a surrounding wall, leaving me sitting in wet sand. The ball was perched beside me.

For just a split second, anyway. And then the water rushed back into the void. And onto me. I surfaced, spluttering, beside the ball. Jacques stared at me with his brows raised.

Thankfully, the rushing water hid my hands. Because they weren’t hands anymore. I could feel the claws as my fingers curled.

“Sacré bleu,” the Satyr said. “You displaced a lot of water.” His eyes widened as he looked at me. “I saw light, much like with Sparkle. It was there last time, but not as strong. And did you know your eyes turn gold when you Jump?”

“They do?” Considering what my hands had been up to, it seemed mundane. When I peered at them beneath the waves, I was relieved to see they’d returned to normal. I desperately wanted to ask him about them, but I was too scared.

It had to be connected to the Jumping. Somehow.

Fortunately, my instructor was focused on returning to dry land. “I wonder how we can safely test that with other things.” Jacques minced his way back to the shore.

“I didn’t kick up any sod when I did it before,” I reminded him, starting to wade back.

“No. That is true. But you might have displaced the air.” He squelched his way up onto the beach as he continued. “Sparkle arrives with both the light and spurts of flame—but she has made my hair blow around when she does so. I’m usually too busy slapping out sparks to notice.”

I was only half listening. The water lapped at my knees. I visualized, tapped into the emotion—and blinked.

Jacques’s face was less than a foot from my own. His features glowed in the aura of golden light, and his thick hair blew in all directions as he staggered back a few steps.

Staggered, because I basically fell into him. Only his hands, extending to grab my arms, held me up.

---