Page 52 of Discovered Magic
“The Authority. He won’t fight them for a few scars.”
“A few scars? What about her memory? Her inability to speak?” he snapped back.
Jonas stepped around his aunt, his hands dropping to his gun belt. “Calm down, Wilder, and show her respect.”
“I’m not annoyed with her. I’m angry because Damian’s calling is to assist our magical community, not ignore those in need,” he retorted. “For two years, he left Abbie to suffer. What kind of man is he in this world?”
Their hostility knotted Abbie’s insides, and the desire to flee sparked. Instinctively, she ripped at the bracelet chaining her in place.
“One handhold. One breath,” Wilder said, reaching out, palm up.
Fearing she’d burn him, she stepped backward and tucked her arms behind her.
Disappointment clouded his eyes, but on its heels was understanding.
“I’m not scared,” he assured her. “I’ll take a hundred strikes if it helps you stay grounded.” Extending his hand farther, he repeated, “One handhold. One breath.”
She grabbed on for dear life. Within two short hours, he’d become her anchor. A beacon in a storm of chaos.
“I’m beginning to suspect you’re an empath, Abbie,” he said in a tone used to gentle wild creatures. “We need to teach you to build walls against stronger emotions. It will help with your panic attacks.”
“Christ. That explains so much.” Jonas grimaced. “Why didn’t any of us see it before?”
“I’m sure you had other things to contend with. But Alastair and a few of my other cousins possess the same gift. Even knowing how to handle a tsunami of emotions, they can get overwhelmed.” Wilder led her to the chair and offered the pen. “Write what you feel, sweetheart. And if you can’t find the words, sketch what’s in your head.”
“She can draw?” Evie asked curiously, joining them at the desk.
“Yes. She’s a remarkable charcoal artist. Mostly views from the summit, but her work hangs—hung—all over our apartment.”
A vague recollection of charcoal pencils filled Abbie’s mind, of her fingers flying as they recreated whatever she saw.
Wilder’s excitement hummed through her veins. “You remembered something.”
With a small shake of her head, she said, “A fragment. But you took the pictures down? Why?”
“They were too painful,” he confessed. “A reminder of what I’d lost.” He stroked a finger along her blemished cheek. “The love I failed to save.”
She had a sudden urge to sketch him in his current state, staring down at her with such longing and pain, yet she worried something so personal might offend him. He might not wish those emotions displayed for others to see.
A wicked gleam caused his eyes to sparkle. “You’ve sketched me nude. What’s a little stark emotion?”
The idea of sketching him nude held great appeal, and in her mind’s eye, she constructed a vision of how she’d model him.
“I’m growing uncomfortably aroused. You might want to think about something else, or you’ll embarrass me,” he telegraphed.
Her face warmed under his steady regard, and she compressed her lips to hold back an unexpected giggle.
* * *
Wilder wished his relatives were anywhere but there. Yet he wouldn’t make advances on Abbie. Until she one hundred percent bought into the idea she was truly who he claimed, he wouldn’t press for anything but recognition, if it were at all possible for her. She should be comfortable, seeking confirmation rather than him pushing the past on her and expecting her to accept whatever he fed her.
“I do believe you, Wilder. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Her faith humbled him, and he blinked against the sting of moisture in his eyes. “It means more to me than you’ll ever know, sweetheart.”
Evie cleared her throat to get their attention, and when she had it, she said, “Damian might not be willing to disobey the Authority, but the rest of your family are.”
For a couple of heartbeats, he stared, unable to comprehend. When her meaning eventually sank in, he whooped and hugged her.
