Page 37 of Discovered Magic
A glancing look at Stands-in-Shadow had Castor raising his brows in the face of Bart’s claim.
“I said fair, Mercer,” Castor returned coldly. The chill in his voice made them all stand straighter. “I already know what those things should cost, and I won’t be fleeced.”
“Ya wake me?—”
“You claimed you were sitting down to dinner. In addition to the profit on your goods, I’ve added an extra fifteen dollars to compensate you for your time. Don’t mistake us for fools. It will be the last thing you do.”
Castor’s challenge was awfully bold for a man without a weapon, but his confident superiority subdued the merchant. Men, no matter their level of importance, recognized an alpha and bowed in defeat.
“You plannin’ to try these on?” Bart shoved denim pants and cotton shirts at Wilder.
“No need, but tell us where we can get a room and a bath.”
12
Crazy Mary felt a chill. The icy sensation slithered along her spine, and she knew exactly what it meant. Trouble, most likely aimed at her. She frowned, and the uncomfortable pull of skin served as a grim reminder of the unsightly puckered scars that marred her face.
The light clink-clink-clink of spurs and the distinct tapping of boot heels on the wooden floorboards drew her attention to the approaching man. He strode forward with purpose. The pearl-handled revolver rode low in a holster, lovingly clinging to his upper left thigh and declaring he meant business.
Licking her dry lips, she let her eyes roam upward from lean hips, over a trim, flat stomach and muscled chest, to broad shoulders straining the threads of his cotton shirt. She lingered long enough to release an appreciative sigh before continuing her visual journey.
God, what a face!
His was seemingly strong, but a full beard hid the lower half. For all she knew, he could possess a weak chin, but somehow, she didn’t think so. Intense amber eyes touched on her, locking on the jagged mark running from her left temple across the bridge of her nose, then shifting, likely to the one running from mid-eye to the right side of her mouth. Disfiguring blows had created a permanent, gruesome half-smirk that mocked the world and invited fists, kicks, or hair-pulling.
But revenge was always hers. Tormentors always received a nasty electrical shock, which usually deterred anyone else smart enough not to risk a strike.
The dark-haired man crouched in front of her, one knee braced on the sawdust-covered floor. A wide, beaming smile transformed his features from worried to radiant. Joy bloomed across his face. A pure, soul-deep happiness, as if his heart found what it had lost.
Her own heart thumped in her chest, skipping a beat when he addressed her.
“Hello, sweetheart. You don’t know how long it’s taken me to find you.”
Mary jerked at the familiarity in his husky voice.
“Y-you know m-me?” she rasped, her words scratchy and broken. It was the first sentence she’d spoken in over six weeks. Until now, head gestures, grunts, and single-word responses were all she’d needed. No one cared to make conversation with a wounded bird.
He frowned. His eyes dropped to her scars again, and with a cautious hand, he traced their path.
She flinched, expecting the familiar zap her body utilized to defend her. Instead, his touch flooded her with warmth, wrapping around her mind and coaxing it to remember. Yet any knowledge of her previous life stayed stubbornly locked away, despite the stirring shadows and whispers of recognition. It was as if her brain had woken to possibility.
His frown deepened. “I do. I?—”
“Step away from her, mon ami.”
Mary’s blond Guardian didn’t look up from his poker hand, but the tension in his body gave him away. He didn’t need to move to make his presence threatening; his energy was far-reaching.
“I’m not your friend,” the newcomer snapped over his shoulder, not taking his gaze from her. “And she’s with me, so feel free to fuck all the way off.”
She sucked in a breath so hard she choked.
No one talked to Draven Masters that way. No one. Even the most foolish recognized his air of authority. But this man with his hardening features? Yeah, he couldn’t care less. If anything, he was furious Draven had the nerve to address him.
“Go,” she whispered. “Go… or he… kill… you.”
The stranger’s amber eyes were turbulent. “I’m not leaving you, Abbie.”
“Ab-bee?”
