Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 292 Ava: Renewed Connection

When I open my eyes this time, Lisa's napping on the couch. Grimoire, in book form, is on the ground before me.

Seeing him in that form, a question comes to my mind—something I'd forgotten to ask him in that strange mental-magical dimension. Why did he send me to Magister Orion and the Fae Ward, if he had little respect for wizards?

That thick cord within me, the new bond linking me with Grimoire, vibrates intensely, seeming almost irritated. Without thinking, I stroke the cover of the book, trying to calm down this dog-like spirit within.

Once my fingers contact the cover, I can hear his voice inside my head, sounding like a sulky child and not a hulking spirit with flames covering his skin. Odd how they didn't burn me, though.

I have respect for wizards, he snaps peevishly. They're just idiots sometimes.

Yeah. So respectful.

Respect comes in many forms.

I laugh. My mind has been so quiet without Selene; having Grimoire in it is a different feeling, but it helps soothe the loneliness.

Lisa jerks upright at the sound of my voice. "Ave?" Her groggy voice makes me smile.

"Hey. You look tired."

"Sorry. Just dozed off while thinking…" Her eyes drop to the book I'm touching. "Is that it?! Did you do it?"

Bouncing off the couch, she practically slides across the floor, up on her hands and knees over it. "It even looks old and magical. Holy shit, Ava. You did it!"

Tell her to stop breathing on me.

Ignoring Grimoire, I take a moment to reach out with my senses, trying to see if I can get even a glimmer of Selene anywhere.

Do you need my help?

Glancing at the book beneath my fingertips, I raise my brows. "Are you able to?"

"Able to what?" Lisa asks, reaching out to run a finger down the worn leather cover.

Tell her to stop touching me and I will.

"He doesn't want you to touch him."

She jerks her hand back, mortified. "Oh. I'm sorry."

If you pour magic into our bond, I can amplify.

Okay. I get the English, but it's like reading directions putting together a dresser. They make no sense without pictures.

Just do it.

Closing my eyes—

do that? You can't

at the book. "It's

concentrate with your

helps when they're

you

to the book?" Lisa asks

in my head, as long as I'm touching the book,

I will be able to speak to you

he and Selene will coexist in my

remarkably small, he agrees, in a tone that sounds

It is, he confirms.

book, only for that new

if you're going to insult

stills, with the distinct sense of remorse. It's odd

my thoughts. I glance at Lisa, who shrugs,

pushing myself up from the floor, sensing the frustration from Grimoire when I

there. Her usually calm demeanor is gone, replaced by a harried expression that makes

"Vanessa? What's wrong?"

eyes tight around the corners. "You

tone of her voice stops any questions from forming on my lips. Whatever's happening, it's

over my shoulder, "I'll be right

wait for her response before stepping out and closing the door behind me. Vanessa's already moving, and I hurry to keep up with her brisk

the hospital, my heart clenches. Lucas. It has to be Lucas. What's wrong? He was

him behind. I'm sorry, I think, hoping he can hear me even

not sure if he receives the message, but the vibration settles somewhat. It's fascinating how different Grimoire's presence feels compared to Selene's. Selene, while having her own space in my head, is also an extension of myself. Grimoire feels

front desk without challenge, a strange tension in the air. There's something odd in the way people look at me, and I realize after a

There were plenty of male staff

Stranger and stranger still.

it, ushering me inside

Bizarre.

eyes are immediately drawn to the bed where

sweat glistening on his forehead. But it's his eyes that

faster, wondering if he's finally recognizing

but the intonation is all wrong. It doesn't

why is he staring at me like

"Are you oka—"

hands grab my wrists, slamming me back against the closed door. The impact knocks

sledgehammer in my chest. This isn't

golden eyes wild and feverish as they roam over my features. Sweat trickles down his forehead, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His hands on my wrists are scorching, like brands against my

he asks, his

to get you back to bed. You're sick." Wolves don't get sick.