Willow reached into her pocket and then set a small, black vial on the table. “I was able to buy a Universal Potion Antidote. If it does do something bad, this might help. Maybe. Sometimes.”
She slid it across the table to sit beside his plate.
“Good to know.” He threw the potion down his throat in one gulp and swallowed hard. The scent of flowers billowed up his nose, but the oily liquid tasted like apples in his mouth. “It tasted okay.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Willow said. “But you have to look at me.”
Arawn was looking at her. He stared at the adorable pink streaks in her baby blond hair, at the sweetness of her mouth, at her soft and silken skin, and into the green of her eyes. He loved everything about her, and yet that elemental stirring deep in his magic remained missing. “How long should we do this?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her green eyes locked with his, though her breathing was shallow.
His skin prickled.
Maybe this was it.
He leaned forward, watching her face and her throat and her eyes, afraid to breathe lest he disrupt it.
A million razor blades sliced his skin.
He didn’t look away from her widening stare. He watched her as if his life depended on it.
Something white encroached on his vision from below, and his mouth felt—beaky.
Willow stood in her chair. “Arawn, take the antidote. Arawn take the antidote!”