Page 127 of A Winding Wave of Magic
Instinct. That was the word for it, though it would never have deigned to articulate itself that way. Instinct went beyond speech, conscious thought. It was the ancient center of our beings, the snap between thought and action, more powerful than any magic.
A razor sharpness that sliced through with a touch, a glance, a bite.
A roar that could deafen the heart and the mind.
At the center of this fire was a beast, one with no shape, no name, but an animal just the same. I could not see it, but I could See it, and it could See me too.
Not a him or her or any word we could ascribe to something so superfluous as gender.
My heart ached to meet it.
The beast chuffed at the thought.
Just outside of that fiery core sang Jonathan’s impulses and memories, which entrapped the creature with knowledge of what it had done, what it could do, and what the costs might be.
Through that song, I Saw Jonathan with blood on his hands.
Jonathan with his mouth and hands on a woman or five, overcome with lust.
Jonathan on the hunt, making kill after kill after kill.
Then my face appeared, and with it the most intense reactions of all. The beast bellowed, and I recognized it for the call it was, begging me to come so it could take as it liked. As it needed.
A cry to kill. Another to pillage. Others to eat, drink, breathe, fuck,consumeme in every way he possibly could.
Desire didn’t even cover it. It was a craving down to the bones, one that Jonathan knew could cost his life and certainly mine if he gave into it.
The beast Saw me and gave a deep, soul-shattering howl.
I tore my hand away.
“Had enough?” Jonathan was breathing hard, his eyes glittering. It wasn’t just his Sight now, but the fire within. One he couldn’t quite hide anymore.
But still, I looked. I couldn’t stop. What I’d Seen was violent, yes. Terrifying, absolutely. But beautiful, nonetheless.
“You see,” he said, his voice shaking with the effort to maintain control, “it would never bejusta kiss.”
I did see. But what he didn’t realize was that I’d broken our connection because of how close I’d been to throwing myself into that fire. To meeting his beast with one I suspected had awoken inside me.
“Savage,” I whispered.
A muscle ticked in Jonathan’s jaw. “You have no idea.”
He looked away, then. And for whatever reason, that was what moved me into action.
I seized his jaw like an apple from a tree and forced him to meet my eyes again. The veil of control he kept between us at all times was thinner now, fraying under my touch. Through it, something deeper, something truly feral brewed. Something unnameable, but something I knew he felt in me too.
“Did I say I didn’t like it?” I asked.
He shook me off the same way a cat would shake off a collar. “You didn’t have to. Who would like that kind of creature?”
Shame cloaked him, miring the dignity and sophistication I had come to associate with this man. But that was a mask. I Saw that now. It was the thick, almost impenetrable veneer Jonathan had constructed to hide what he believed so many others would hate. Terrible, savage chaos.
Except I didn’t. Because I knew that chaos all too well.
“Jonathan.”
There was only a pained grunt.
