I grab a cold bottle of water off the nightstand (never say I don’t come prepared… literally), and shrug my shoulders. “Not a clue, pet. But whatever it was, it musta been something mighty good; I’ve never heard you ask for a cigarette before.”

Chuckling, she rolls onto her side, her sparkling eyes gazing up at me. “Bad habit I ditched long ago. But for a moment… oh yeah. Woulda been nice. I mean, it was like I was in your head, but not really. Like I could feel what you felt.”

I raise an eyebrow quizzically. “Feel what I was feeling? Like an out of body experience?”

“No… More like I was absorbing your pleasure along with mine. Like I was riding your feelings as well.”

“As opposed to just riding me?”

She punches my arm lightly, and gives me a dirty look. Have I mentioned how much I love that look? She thinks it’s all big and bad, like people are going to run in terror. Unfortunately, her cute little nose wrinkles up and her eyes narrow…she looks like a child about to throw a tantrum more than anything else. I’m probably better not ever telling her that though, because I can guarantee I’d be both sorry and ecstatic, but not in equal parts. Telling my woman she looks cute is tantamount to asking for a beating. Which, of course, I sometimes am.

“What the hell are you grinning at?” she asks indignantly. “I mean, this time was cool, but what if it’s just not sex? Like what if I break your arm and hafta feel it? That would suck.”

“In quite a few ways, I’d imagine. You’d never my break my arm though. Think of all the things I use my hands and arms for. It would be awful disappointing to have to wait six weeks for me to heal, wouldn’t it?”

A playful smirk crosses her face as she replies, “I’d find someone to…fill in during the interim.”

“I just bet you would,” I growl. “Still doesn’t mean you can do it.”

She sighs heavily as if I’m the most trying thing in the world. Ha. She oughta try my shoes for a day. Flopping back onto the pillows, I take another sip of the water, musing over whether or not I could get away with dumping the rest of the bottle on her head if she doesn’t quit being so damn difficult.

“We’re getting off subject. Aren’t we supposed to be talking about what happened?”

I roll my eyes at her, fighting the urge to point out the she was the one who’d gotten us off topic. “So something weird happened. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that you know some people get weird side effects from the claiming thing. Magic begets magic, so to speak. Maybe it took that enormously draining bout of honesty for everything to click, you know?”

Hmmm. Now there’s the most sensible thing she’s said all day. Guess that’s a possibility, but she’s the magic expert in this house. Not sure how she expects me to know what… oh, bloody hell. The school. She expects me to know something about this from some sodding class at the school. Wonder if now’s a good time to mention that I never paid attention in school? I had much better things to think about…like doodling and writing….wait. Scratch that. Not mentioning that one at all or she’ll have me writing for her all the time, which will severely cut into my getting laid time.

I look at her and shrug. “Anything’s possible, luv. Don’t think they covered it at school.” Heh. That should take care of it. Long as she doesn’t ask anyone, which I doubt she will. The only people she’d really ask are Fang, who’s not around, and One. She’ll never take him aside tonight and ask him in front of Will and the gang, so I’m safe for the time being.

“What the bloody feck DID they teach you at the school? Besides how to be a pain in my ass.”

“If you remember correctly, that was your cuddly wuddly,” I say, making kissy faces, “not me.”

Nothing distracts my woman better than being teased. She launches herself at me, glaring like she could stare through me, and pins me to the bed. Truth is, I could move if I had to, but why? I told you. She’s freakin adorable when she’s all growly and mad. Solid as iron on the outside, whipped cream on the inside.

“He’s not my—I’m not even saying that ridiculous phrase!” she exclaims.

I chuckle, struggling to break her hold enough to flip us, and she tightens her grip. Actually, this tussle more foreplay than anything else. “Oh come on now. You know you have this whole Jean Paul Sartre/Simone de Beauvoir letters thing going on. It’s all sweet and mushy.”

“Oh whatever. Where the hell do you get this stuff?”

“Books. Square things that hold info. Try it sometime. And I think I’m changing my mind. You’re too retarded to be Simone de Beauvoir,” I say, ducking the punch she sends towards my arm.

“Oh why thank you so very much. Too bad you haven’t had time to read due to playing Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher with Toga.”

The smirk on her face tells me that I’ve been set up and I quit struggling. It amazes me how she can be beet red with embarrassment, flailing about in rage, and still be setting you up for a zinger. A pretty decent one, at that. “Okay, uncle, uncle. You win.”

“As always,” she grins smugly.

“Cause you hit below the belt, as always,” I retort.

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t. Like that cuddly thing wasn’t low.”

“Totally. But since I’m male, I luckily get to have an assumed double standard.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“So what do we do about this then?” I ask, suddenly serious. Hey someone’s got to do, because I know for a fact we could sit here and insult each other for hours. We used to sit with Fangy and do it for fun, seeing who could think of the most creative ones. However, this whole magic thing is more than a little screwy, and personally, I’d like to learn to control it before it gets weird.

“Dunno. Guess we just wait and see what it does, and figure out what to do with it from there. Could be a fluke, right?” she asks almost hopefully.

Damn. Gonna hafta burst her bubble, and I really hate that. “I suppose, but I really doubt it. I would imagine it’s here to stay. But on the bright side it made for a helluva ride, right?”

“Literally,” she quips, her eyes dancing mischievously. “Do we have time for a shower before they get here?”

“Maybe. If not, T and Loth’ll hold em off.”

She smacks my arm hard. “They’re not live in butlers. Just because you’re lazy doesn’t mean everyone else gets to be.”

“But I’m so damn sexy when I’m lazy. It’s why you can’t resist me.”

She rolls her eyes so far back that it’s creepy, and sighs. “And people wonder why I’m so completely insane…”

“Eh, quit complaining and hop into that shower woman. Don’t want to have to rush.”