Page 45 of Impawssible Magic

Only her.

I don’t shift back until we’re inside her shop.

Leire’s hands are shaking too badly to work the lock, so I nudge the door open with my shoulder and herd her inside. The wards let us through, sealing shut behind us with a hum of protective magic.

Safe. For now.

I shift back to human form and immediately remember the downside of emergency transformations.

No clothes.

Leire’s eyes go wide. Her gaze drops—automatic, instinctive—traveling down my chest, my stomach, lower—then snaps back up to my face so fast, I might have imagined it. Except for the flush spreading across her cheeks. Except for the way her throat works as she swallows. Except for the spike of heat I smell on her skin.

Despite everything—the attack, the fear—heat coils in my gut at that look. She liked what she saw. Even shocked, even terrified, she noticed.

“Right.” She spins on her heel, marches to the chest by the window, and yanks out a blanket. Throws it at me without looking. “Here. Cover your... everything.”

I catch the blanket. Wrap it around my hips. It’s too small—barely covers what needs covering—but it’s better than nothing.

“You can turn around.”

She does. Slowly. Her face is still flushed, but she’s got her composure back—mostly. Her eyes stay firmly on my face this time, though I catch them trying to drift downward more than once.

“We need to talk about what happened.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “The attack and the... other thing.”

“Both.” I move to the couch, sit heavily. The wound on my flank is already healing—shifter metabolism—but it pulls unpleasantly. “But mostly the other thing.”

“What was that?” Her voice cracks. “When he grabbed me, when I thought—there was this surge. Power. Mine and yours, all tangled up.”

“I don’t know.” The honesty tastes strange. Uncomfortable. “But it felt like...”

“A familiar bond.” She finishes the thought. “That’s not—you’re not an animal. You’re a person. Shifters don’t bond with witches. It’s not possible.”

“And yet.”

She stares at me. I stare back. The truth of it sits between us—undeniable, terrifying, impossible to ignore.

“I don’t want a familiar.” Her voice cracks on the words. “Especially not a person. Do you have any idea how badly that ended for me last time? Shadow was supposed to be my anchor, and he—” She stops. Swallows hard.

“I know.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I don’t want a bond either. I had one. It destroyed me when I lost her.”

Her expression shifts. Recognition, maybe. Understanding. The look of someone who knows what it’s like to have everything ripped away. “Your witch. Dorothea.”

I nod. The dream comes back to me. The one where Dorothea tells me to start living again.

“Then we agree.” She straightens, squaring her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. “This isn’t happening. Whatever that was—the power surge, the whatever—it was a fluke.”

“It’s already happening.”

She flinches. “Don’t say that.”

“Leire.” I hold her gaze. “I’m not happy about this either. But lying about it won’t make it go away.”

Her throat works. I watch her swallow. Watch the fear and the wanting battle across her face. The urge to close the distance between us—to touch her, to taste her, to pull her into my arms and never let go—is almost overwhelming.

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know. But we don’t have to figure it out tonight.”