Page 8 of Dewitched

The shifter held his hands up in a consolatory gesture. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Owen, right?”

He nodded silently.

“I’m Fenix.”

He nodded again.

“Are you okay?”

This time, instead of a nod, Owen arched an eyebrow at him.

“Right. Stupid question.” Fenix cursed again as he dragged his fingers through his wet hair. “Let’s try again. Are you hurt?”

“My head hurts.”

He immediately clamped his lips shut again, unsure as to why he’d said that. It was the truth, but a white lie probably would have been the better choice. Besides, it wasn’t like he needed a doctor or a medic.

Fenix’s eyebrows drew together in concern, and he stepped forward with his hand outstretched. Without hesitation, Owen took another step back, maintaining the distance between them.

The shifter’s expression morphed from concern to sadness to anger, and eventually, acceptance, all in the span of a heartbeat. “It probably doesn’t mean much, but I really am sorry. I would never hurt you.”

Oddly, Owen believed him, but he still had questions. “Why did you run at me like that?”

“I lost control.” Another sigh. “A pretty poor excuse, I know, and I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again.”

Owen frowned. Yes, he’d been scared, but despite everything, he wasn’t angry. He certainly had no intentions of ghosting the guy. The whys of it didn’t make a lot of sense to him, and moreover, he really couldn’t comprehend why it would matter to Fenix.

“Can I please take a look at your head? I just need to know that you’re okay.”

Well, that was kind of sweet. Not going to happen, but still,aww.

He shook his head and took another step back. “That’s not a good idea.”

“It’s okay if you don’t trust me.” Fenix tried to smile, but it strained at the edges. “I don’t blame you. Will you let me take you to the castle to have a medic look at it?”

“I’m okay. Nothing serious.” The look on Fenix’s face tugged at his heart, and he couldn’t resist explaining himself. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” It was true, even if he had every reason not to. “I’m anaccipere.”

He waited for the shock. The disdain. This time, he felt sure Fenix would be the one to retreat. Instead, the guy laughed.

“Is that all?”

“You know what that is?” A lot of Otherlings did, but not all. It was always a relief when he didn’t have to elaborate.

Fenix nodded.

“I don’t know how to control it.”

“That’s okay. I’ll control it for both of us.” As he spoke, he took another step forward. Then another.

Against all his better judgment, Owen remained motionless, studying the Guardian while he waited for the guy to come to him.

Even drench, with water dripping from the tips of his hair, he was stunning. Dark brows framed deep-set eyes, and his plump lips parted slightly, revealing the tips of his canines. Muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he moved, and the sodden fabric highlighted every hard ridge and defined valley.

When he reached toward him, Owen flinched. He had spent so long avoiding touch, it had become as natural as breathing. Fenix must have noticed, but he didn’t react. He didn’t pull away. His long fingers threaded through Owen’s wet hair and slid around to the back of his head.

“Yep,” he confirmed as he gently inspected the area. “You’ve got a pretty good knot there. Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Nauseated,” Owen corrected, then immediately wanted to die. “Uh, no, nothing like that,” he continued quickly. “I’m fine. Really.”

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