Page 26 of Cursed Magic

I kept my hands firmly at my sides and played theevents of the past night through my mind—the attack, the knife, Ryker’s willingness to sacrifice himself for Briar—for me.

The connection between us seemed to buzz through the distance like a tangible vibration. It felt even more intense than it had last night, as if a bond continued to strengthen between us. Yet, I had already found my fated mate, and he’d rejected me and killed my pack. Nothing should be able to form between Ryker and me, and yet, each day, spending time away from him became harder and harder.

None of this made sense. Fated-mate bonds were predetermined before either person was born because their soul was split in two.

I leaned against the wall and slid to the wooden floor. As soon as my butt hit the ground, Ryker stirred.

He moaned softly and moved closer to the edge of the bed near me.

I closed my eyes as if that would somehow make him unable to see me if he leaned over, and I wondered if the crackle I sensed in the air had become some sort of beacon to him. Hopefully, the sensation was one-sided.

His eyelids flickered open. For a moment, he scanned the room before his eyes finally locked on me, and somehow, the friction between us sizzled with even more energy.

“Are you okay?” he rasped. His brows furrowed, and he lifted his head then winced, one hand covering his injury. “What’s wrong?” He studied my face and tried to sit up.

“I’m fine.” I lifted both hands. “You need to stay still and not aggravate your stab wound,” I deflected, hoping that he wouldn’t ask me what was wrong again.

He lifted a brow, studying me with an intensity that made me want to squirm. If I’d believed a person could seeinto someone else’s soul, I’d swear that was what he was doing to me, and it was unnerving.

“You’re pale,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “Paler than before you went to sleep. And you look…” He paused as if searching for the right word. “Unsettled.”

I swallowed hard, aware that my attempt to appear calm had failed spectacularly. “I’m fine,” I repeated, the words hollow even to my own ears. Still, that was the one thing I could say that was true—right here next to him, everything seemed fine… Right. The cold touch and floral smell damn near disappeared from my mind.

“I know this trick. You say you’re fine to skirt around the problem.” He placed a hand on the side of the bed and sat upright. “Let me see your back. You could be bleeding again.”

Damn him for being smart. I’d thought that, with his wounds, he would be less aware of mine.

I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t relent. “My wound has been healing. It doesn’t hurt as much since I woke up.”

“Then there’s no risk in humoring me, is there?” He placed his hands on the white sheets, readying to throw them off.

“Fine. Stay put. You’re still hurt.” I got up and sat on the bed with my back to him. Our proximity turned the air into static electricity but without the shocking discomfort. I pulled my hair to the side so he could see my upper back. Before I could reach back to pull the collar lower for him, calloused fingertips touched the skin at the back of my neck and did it for me.

Electric pulses shot throughout my body, and my breath hitched.

His fingers traced the edges of the wound, sendingshivers down my spine. Each touch was featherlight, and the heat of his breath hit my skin.

My wolf and body wanted to tremble, but I clenched my teeth, refusing to show how much I wanted him.

“That’s amazing.” A low rumble vibrated from his chest. “Your wound is almost completely healed. How bad was it?”

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. “It was super raw, and it hurt to move. It’s now just a tad uncomfortable, and I was surprised how much it had healed by the time I woke up.” Despite my best efforts to remain aloof, my body betrayed me, leaning ever so slightly into his touch.

“Well, if your wound didn’t wake you, what did?” His hands stilled on my back, setting the one section he continued to touch ablaze.

I hesitated. The memory of that cold touch and the lingering floral scent felt too surreal to explain. I’d sounded paranoid in front of him too many times. My imagination must be playing games with me.

“Just a bad dream.” I didn’t know what to say to him other than that. It was the truth.

He exhaled and dropped his hand, and I immediately missed his touch. He said, “It was an awful night. I’m not surprised. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

I tensed. The last thing I wanted was to speak out loud that my mind was continuing to play tricks on me. “I’d rather not. It’s over, and…” I stopped myself, realizing that I’d almost said that being next to him made things better. It did, but I didn’t need to voice that. “It was just a dream.”

But as the words left my mouth, a warning shot down my spine—a sensation so sharp and sudden it made mestiffen. It felt exactly the same as when we’d been in the woods with Simon.

I turned to look out the windows that faced the woods. There had to be someone watching us.

A breeze picked up, swaying the blades of grass. The sunlight still filtered softly through the window, casting golden patterns across the wooden floor. The other pack members continued sleeping deeply, their chests rising and falling steadily.

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