Page 25 of Magic Betrayed

So I nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t move. “I know you probably feel as if you’re not in a position to refuse.”

Drat the dragon for being far too perceptive. I tried to continue to meet his eyes, but they held a compassion so fierce that I had to look away again. He saw too much, and the set of that stubborn jaw told me he wasn’t going to be talked out of whatever he was about to say.

“So let me state this now, as clearly as I can—my involvement here is of my own free will. I fully intend to take responsibility for the promise I made when you agreed to work for me, so if there is any debt, it exists on my side, not yours.”

I didn’t agree. How could I, when he’d already given me so much? And it wasn’t about the material things either. What mattered most to me was the trust and respect he’d offered when I’d had none—earned none. He’d respected my abilities. Trusted me at his back. Believed me when I told him Blake was about to attack, and supported me even at the cost of his own reputation.

No, I owed this dragon so much more than I could ever begin to describe or repay, but that argument would have to wait. It was going to be a long one, and we were on the clock.

“We can argue about it later,” I hedged, refusing to commit or agree to anything. “For now, I accept your offer to pay Draven’s hacker. Can we call him? Email? Arrange a clandestine meeting in a dark alley?” Time was slipping away, and I needed answers.

Callum regarded me thoughtfully for a moment or two before he nodded. “Yes. But first, I want to check something.” He lifted a hand towards me a little too swiftly, and I flinched back. Not because of Callum. I had no fear of him, but my instincts ran too deep.

And there was still too much of my story that he didn’t know.

But he didn’t lash out or even appear hurt. He stopped. Gave me space, while never looking away. “May I?”

May he what? “Yes?”

My body froze like a gazelle sensing a predator, but he moved slowly and carefully, as if he sensed the lurking presence of my panic. One step, then two. He was right beside me, close enough for me to feel his warmth, and to be reminded of that odd sense I’d gained when we’d worked together before the Symposium.

Even with my eyes closed, if I focused, I could always tell where he was. I could feel the burning pressure of his shapeshifter magic, the force of his power and personality. But it had never felt like a threat. Instead of making me want to step back, that furnace of his magic created an inexplicable yearning to move closer. To lean into it, let it surround me, catch me, carry me…

But then those yearnings were swept away by the shock of his fingers in my hair. I felt the smallest tug as he brushed it back. Then he leaned towards me, and his fingers skimmed lightly across my skin, the sensation sending a wave of warmth crashing across my nerve endings.

“Good.” The word was soft and filled with satisfaction.

I blinked and turned a little to throw a confused glance his way. “What’s good?” I didn’t love how breathy I sounded.

“Your shift accelerated the healing process. The bandage and the stitches are gone, but there’s no swelling, and the wound is closed, so I don’t think you need them anymore.”

Come to think of it, my back and my ribs didn’t seem to hurt anymore, either. Did all shifters heal this fast?

A rush of exhilaration swept through me as I contemplated the possibilities. Now that I knew how to control the shift, I could take more risks without worrying about the aftermath.

“I can see you considering the implications,” Callum said dryly, “so let me warn you. Yes, you will heal almost impossibly fast, and can come back from devastating injuries. But it takes a toll. Shifting alone requires a lot of energy, and only the strongest can manage more than one shift in the space of a day. If you’re trying to heal at the same time, you’ll burn through your energy reserves like a wildfire through a dry grassland. You’ll be able to keep going for a bit, but then you’ll pass out, so you have to be somewhere safe before the crash hits you.”

Was this why shapeshifters were rarely loners? So they had someone to rely on for safety when they crashed?

“Noted.” My pulse, I realized, was now galloping out of control. Callum was still standing there, only inches away, with his hand resting on my shoulder. His gaze caught mine, and I froze, somehow snared in a moment of vulnerability. I should move away, but I didn’t want to.

And maybe it wasn’t just me, because he hadn’t moved either. As if we were both reluctant to break this fragile web ofsomethingnow strung between us.

“Am I interrupting?”

Both of us started. Our tenuous connection shattered. Heat flooded my cheeks as I turned to see Ryker in the doorway of the apartment, leaning on the doorjamb with a slight smirk on his face. “I finally managed to find parking, then some kind gentleman spent five minutes offering to sell me something that may or may not have been legal, after which I was catcalled by a couple of senior citizens and barely escaped with my life. But now it looks like I shouldn’t have hurried. Do you two need another minute?”

We absolutely did not.

“Nope, we’re done here,” I muttered, and turned away from Callum as the blush expanded to include my ears. There was no way they wouldn’t notice me looking like I’d magically developed a bad case of sunburn. “Just finishing up.”

I heard Callum murmur something behind me—something that sounded suspiciously like, “This isn’t even close to finished,” but I pretended not to hear him. Never mind that he knew I had shifter hearing—I absolutely could not permit myself to think about whatever had just happened.

It brought back memories I hadn’t yet dared to explore. Memories of the way he’d protected me when the SUV we were in caught fire. Of the way he’d looked when he asked me to be his date to the Symposium. And of that meeting on the rooftop—on the night when everything fell apart.

I’d been wearing a dress that made me feel beautiful. When I finally found him under the stars, I’d seen—just for a moment—the flare of mutual attraction. He’d said my name as if it were pure, priceless magic, and his eyes had burned, not with threat, but with something much deeper.

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