Page 42 of Waves
“I didn’t know magic could be hard,” he admitted.
“Me either. When I thought I was human, I was brimming with jealousy over anyone who had it. But…when it…” I swallowed my words, terrified that I’d almost mentioned the price of magic. Pulse thumping hard, I gazed into his eyes and pretended to get lost for a moment.
But then I was lost.
Suddenly, these soft tendrils of admiration were wrapping through me like silk strands, tying me up so tightly that I couldn’t speak. Tenderness floated between us, blooming and unfurling.
Was Stavros deliberately pushing the emotion toward me?
There was a certain focus, a steely-eyed determination in his gaze.
I reached up and caressed his jawline.
My eyes drifted back to our horned opponent, whom Lizza had doing barrel rolls as she waited for me to recover. Breathing carefully to avoid the harsh catch in my ribcage, I sought out an explanation as I withdrew my fingers. “Summoning the sea is like attempting to whistle at a wild stallion. It’s a beautiful, stubborn thing.”
He was quiet for a moment. Reflective. But then, he gave a tiny smirk as he said, “Fitting power for you then.”
“I dunno. I wouldn’t mind Valdez’s power of seduction,” I replied as I turned back to the monster and lifted my arms, reassuming my ready position and trying to ignore the bruises blossoming all across my back.
“So, the rebellion would end?” Stavros asked as he slid deftly behind me again.
“That. And so that you wouldn’t be so shy.” I tossed him a smirking glance over my shoulder before the kraken rushed bodily at us, horns lowered.
The tenderness was slashed apart by a dark feeling. An aggressive one edged with violence. Perhaps Stavros was pushing another emotion at me, knowing I needed encouragement.
I reached back and found his hand, weaving our fingers together, drinking in his enflamed emotions. As soon as our hands entwined, his masculine desire to fight seemed to manifest into my own turbulent need to destroy.
Unlike the emptiness or rabid cruelty I’d experienced when I’d used my magic before, this new surge of savagery was keen. Somehow sharper. Almost as if it was a carefully honed weapon.
As if I was one.
That sense of razored ferocity didn’t bludgeon or bowl me over like it was overtaking me. Instead, it felt like something I might wield.
As I raised my hands this time, instead of imagining I was conducting the ocean, I lifted my arms as if I was hefting a sword. Stavros’s hand was dragged up with mine and held in place, both our pulses thrumming like waterfalls.
This will work.
Giddy notes sliced through the water right in front of me, the ocean’s tune playfully bloodthirsty. Harpsichord notes vibrated through my head while a bass thundered beneath my ribs. A lyre plucked up my spine as a haunting mermaid-like keen trilled across my arms, fluttering my scales.
“Ah!” Stavros gasped behind me, and I wondered if he felt it too. The surging current. The vastness of my conscience as it melded with the ocean. The symphony of the sea. With its hugerolling waves and deep lumbering steps through the depths. The wide stretch of shadows and the miniscule scratch of the icebergs. The churning, rolling, consuming need.
The water wasn’t sweet and peaceful. It was a slumbering beast, waiting to attack.
With an exhale that punched right through me, I slashed our joined palms.
A barrage of pale blue ice spikes went cutting through the current, jetting right toward the kraken. Stabbing. Piercing.
The monster tumbled backward, a shriek emanating from its beak. At least a dozen sharp icicles protruded from its flailing limbs as it flopped through a sunbeam, making my weapons gleam.
Savage glee made me dance up on my tiptoes for a second. My fingers curled against Stavros’s, and I whispered his name in excitement.
His free hand came to my waist and tightened, and then his warm breath ghosted over my ear. “Again. Destroy him.”
The wild fury racing across my skin became edged with the tiniest tint of red lust. It edged my vision. Pinkened my cheeks. Quickened my breath.
Our joined hands raised and slashed again. Ice balls formed instantly and dove toward the kraken. Before I processed the stomach-drop of disappointment, Stavros made our fingers flex. Spikes erupted just as the spheres reached the monster. They became tiny, glittering, frozen suns and their rays sliced through the skin of the beast.
My next inhale was full of malevolence. A dark sense of pride. And when Stavros’s hand on my waist squeezed me in praise, when his whisper, “Good,” tickled my ear, my nipples hardened.
