Page 34 of Research with Rivals
“This will all work out,” Vincent said, giving me a small smile. “I’m sure of it.”
On one hand, I wanted to believe him. I considered him an expert in love now. Things had worked out so well for him. He’d gotten the girlandthe job. Though not the position he’d originally wanted, his current one fit him even better.
When he’d originally made that stupid bargain with Luna, I told him he was biting off more than he could chew, especially when his wind magic took note of her. Clearly, I had been wrong.
But just because it worked out for him, that didn’t mean my disaster would have any silver lining. Evelyn and I were competing for the same position. One she wanted. One I had been training for most of my life. We had to research a magical connection that was hundreds of years old, one that no one had even realized existed until recently. On top of that, now we had to take a break from that work to find a way to sever the bond we’d accidentally formed between ourselves. And I hadn’t even confessed the whole truth about how it was formed.
So, yeah, I was in a much worse place than Vincent had been when he struck his bargain with Luna. I’d be lucky if Evelyn still spoke to me if we made it out of this at all.
13
Evelyn
Movement was uncomfortable. It was the same unwieldy feeling of my shift, like being in my own body was not where I belonged, but I knew this one wasn’t my veil cat’s fault. Every step through the forest that forced me away from Ambrose was another tightening in my chest.
This was … bad.
I was sure it was worse than bad, but my brain couldn’t find a better descriptor as my baser instincts slid to the forefront.
One of my favorite things about Parkview Tavern was that it was located in a lush, green wood that ran from the city center to the sea. Unfortunately, the tavern’s placement precisely in the center of the city meant there were no easy paths to my usual escape routes. My fraying nerves about this bond, the project, and Ambrose released some of the careful hold I attempted to keep on my shift. I laughed at my hope. My veil cat was incontrol when she wanted to be, and it seemed she was choosing now to take over.
It was sheer luck that most of my shifts had been so early in the morning that no one had seen me run through the streets as a giant, reddish-brown cat. I wouldn’t be that lucky forever. As my claws fought to extend and gooseflesh rose on my arms, I didn’t think I would be that lucky now.
Sandrin was packed. The sun was low in the sky, and it was less than a week after the largest winter solstice celebration this city had seen in years. Locals were leaving work for the day, families were gathering for a meal, and tourists were searching for new adventures within the city’s limits.
If I shifted, I was screwed.
When I glanced down at my hand, it was almost entirely paw. My fur grew and disappeared as I struggled to regain control over myself. I sucked in a few deep breaths, but nothing worked.
“Not now. Please, not now,” I whispered to myself, even though attempting to reason with my veil cat had yet to help me.
The only good thing about this veil cat takeover was that at least I wasn’t thinking about Ambrose.
And then I was thinking about Ambrose again.
I stopped walking and looked around. A few couples meandered in the park ahead of me, but I had a little space. The discomfort was too much, though. The risk of losing this battle against myself was too great. With each step farther away from the tavern—from him—I lost a little more control. There was no way I made it all the way home. I ducked behind some bushes into a small copse of trees to get hold of myself.
With a thick tree trunk at my back, I sucked in more deep breaths.In through the nose, out through the nose.I could do this. I didn’t need to be near Ambrose. He didn’t want me near him, anyway. He was utterly embarrassed by everything I’d shared at the tavern.
It was the height of irony that I’d had to admit to him that one of my tests, which he considered so reckless, was responsible for our current predicament.
Maybe he was right. Maybe any blood magic was too dangerous.
I didn’t believe that. Blood magic was the only magic available to those not fully fae. It could be life-changing to those born without magic. The story about the human sisters in the journal proved that. When natural disaster had driven the food supply to unpredictability, they used blood magic to feed their people.
One mistake didn’t throw away all that potential.
Even if the one mistake had been a pretty big one.
My head ached as I sipped in another lungful of air in my hidden location. I let my body slide down the tree against which I leaned. My paw—hand—stopped shifting, and I wasn’t sure why. It didn’t feel like I had grasped some semblance of control, but the shift had stopped its progression. I dug my hand into the dirt, as if it were a lifeline.
The tightness in my chest loosened. My breathing exercises were working better than anticipated. I had never been able to stop the shift when it was so insistent.
Then I heard the rustling in the bushes.
No, no, no. I couldn’t have a visitor in here. Maybe I’d wrangled a minute of control, but it wouldn’t last if someone pressed in on my peace.
A fresh scent hit my nostrils, and it occurred to me why the twisting feeling had lessened. Ambrose smelled like old books and pencil shavings. They might have been mundane scents, but they suited him perfectly. His auburn hair peeked through the dark green bushes even in the shadows of the fading light.
