Jim Gem's Arc

Chapter 7 of 23

Lena's hand stayed on his cheek. Jim tried to breathe slow. But the heat came back, worse this time. His pulse hammered. The shift woke under his skin and pushed hard. "Lena," he said. His voice dropped, rough. "Move back." She didn't. She looked into his eyes and watched them change. The purple bled away. Yellow crept in. His pupils narrowed to slits. Wolf eyes now, staring out of a man's face. Jim clenched his teeth. His jaw ached. His hands curled on the blanket. He felt his bones want to bend, his skull want to stretch. If he lost it now, the wolf would come out inches from her. He didn't know if it would know her. That was the thing that scared him most. "Get off the bed," he forced out. "Please." Instead she climbed back into his lap. Jim froze. He couldn't move without shifting. She pressed her forehead to his. "Shh," she said. Soft. Not her stage voice. Not a joke. "I've got you." Her hand moved up and stroked his hair, slow, from his brow to the back of his head. The waterfall outside hushed the loft. She kept going. Down and down. "Shh. I'm here." Something in Jim let go. His pulse slowed under her palm. The heat drained out of his arms. His bones settled. He didn't force them this time. She pulled them back for him. "That's it," Lena whispered. She kept stroking. Jim felt his skull hold its shape. He opened his eyes. The yellow faded. The purple returned, slow, like light coming back to a room. He was a man again, whole, breathing hard in her lap. He stared at her. Ten years he'd fought the shift alone. He'd forced it down by will, every time, and it had cost him. Now Lena had done in a minute what his own strength barely managed. "How did you do that," he said. She shrugged, but her eyes were wet. "I just held on." Her sentences were short now. She didn't explain more. Jim understood what it meant. His method needed calm to build his shapes one at a time. Calm was the one thing he could never hold when his heart raced. He pulled her into a tight hug. But Lena could pull him back from the edge. Her hand was the anchor he'd been missing. With her beside him, he could push the shift further than he'd ever dared, and trust her to catch him if it broke loose. He caught her wrist, gentle. "I need you at the waterfall," he said. "When I practice. Not just to guard it. To do that." Lena went quiet. Then she smiled. "Okay." Jim held her hand against his chest. His heart still pounded. But this time he didn't fight it. He let her feel it slow.