Page 75 of Wrongfully Magicked
“I heal fast,” he murmurs absently, reaching toward me hesitantly. When I don’t protest, he gently traps a curl of my hair in his hand and rubs the strands between his fingertips.
Deciding to take advantage of the distraction, I brush my fingers along one of the many raised scars slashed across his chest, then lift a questioning brow. “Yet you scar.”
His expression tightens, lines crinkling around his eyes, and he shrugs. “Beastlings scar when certain chemicals are poured into their wounds. We still heal, but?—”
“It scars,” I mutter, brushing my fingers along another scar, then another and another. “Starvation doesn’t help matters either.”
“It slows our healing even more,” he agrees, shivering under my touch then unconsciously shuffling toward me in silent permission to explore more.
I’d swear fur actually brushes against my palm.
I almost give into temptation when I glance down and spot a tiny flame licking up the back of my hand. I jerk away and shake my head at my stupidity, calling myself all kinds of a fool for having forgotten for even a second that my touch could be deadly.
My conscience twinges at such a stupid mistake, and my throat tightens at how close I came to hurting him. I curl my fingers into a fist, only breathing again when the flames snuff out with a tiny plume of smoke.
When he reaches out and lifts my chin, I lurch backward to avoid his touch, unable to even look at him. “Don’t. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you, even accidentally.”
I back away from him, unwilling to chance his safety…only to slam into something hard behind me. With a yelp, I whirl, my flames instinctively flaring to life at the unknown threat.
Heart pounding in my chest, it takes me a second to recognize Soren, then I lower my eyes in shame. My flames immediately stutter before going out, as if contrite for threatening him.
“You’re afraid of hurting him,” Soren speaks softly. “You like him.”
It’s not an accusation, but utter mortification curdles my insides, and I can’t look at either of them. When I try to scoot around Soren, he steps into my path, not moving until I glare up at him.
“What if I promise you won’t hurt him?” Specks of silver swirl around his dark eyes, something that only happens when he’s being sweet, which I notice only seems to occur around me.
I desperately want to believe him, but I’m not willing to risk their safety to test it. “You can’t know that. You can’t guarantee?—”
“You like us both. I think your abilities recognized that.” He takes a step toward me, and I retreat, only stopping when I crash into Stryker standing directly behind me. Before I can wiggle away, Soren leans closer, squishing me between them.
I wish I could say that I didn’t like it, but their nearness is almost like a drug, and it takes all my control not to rub against them. Logic dictates I keep my distance, but the heat simmering in my veins is desperate for more.
Though I should know better, I’m starting to get attached to the men. I’m a loner by nature. I never expected to find one person I like, much less four, and I’m not sure I trust it. Emotions only lead to trouble, and the last thing I want is to drag them down with me.
Sadness fills my chest, the ache like a bubble expanding beneath my ribs, and I force myself to look away.
It hurts too much to see what I can never claim for my own.
My powers are changing, becoming stronger.
Soon, it won’t be safe for me to be around anyone.
It would kill me if I hurt them because I caught a stupid case of feelings.
“You could barely withstand my flames, and you’re a hellhound.” I turn and stare directly into his eyes, daring him to argue. “How would the others even stand a chance?”
A slow smile spreads across his face, sexy enough to distract me for a moment. “How about we do a little test? If I’m wrong, I vow that we’ll keep our distance.”
Stryker growls in protest, pushing himself closer until he’s plastered against my back, and I shiver when I feel every inch of him.
“Trust me,” Soren says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Stryker.
Stryker pauses, his hand flexing on my hip, then his cat chuffs. “You’re her mate.”
Soren smirks, never breaking eye contact with the leopard. To my ever loving shock, he agrees. “I am, but then again, so are you.”
“Say what the fuck now?” I glance between them, my mind boggling at the mention of one mate, much less two. “Everyone knows that beastlings don’t mate mages.”
