Page 16 of Summertime Hexy

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And starts again.

But different.

I’m still standing. So is he.

But something’swrong.

Or right?

Ordeeply, deeply weird.

Because suddenly, I can feelhim.

Not just near me—in me. A thrum of cool, coiled energy flooding my chest like midnight wind and stone.

And under that? A pulse ofminesurging into him—wild and bright and chaotic.

“Uh…” I gasp. “What thehelljust happened?”

Derek looks like someone just punched him in the soul. His pupils are blown wide. His jaw is tight. “That wasn’t a mushroom.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He’s gripping my wrist harder now, like he doesn’t know how to let go. The tether between us glows white-hot for a second, thenvanishes.

Just like that.

Gone.

But the connection? Still there.

Still humming under my skin.

“You feel it too, right?” I whisper, because my voice has dropped and I can’t stop it.

“Yes,” he says, and it’s not a whisper—it’s aconfession.

We’re still touching.

Chest to chest. Pulse to pulse.

And I swear to every astral entity listening, I canfeelhis heartbeat through my ribs. Slow and deep and not at all dead like it’s supposed to be.

“I think we just did an energy transfer,” I murmur.

Derek doesn’t move. “That’s… not possible. It’s an ancient ritual. Takes hours. Incantations. Intent. It can’t justhappen.”

“Well,” I say, “welcome to Camp Lightring, where everything’s made up and the magical consequences are real.”

His eyes narrow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Which is weird. Because Ialwayslaugh when I’m nervous. Or cornered. Or feeling… whateverthisis.

But I’m not.

I’m just… breathless.

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