Page 44 of Unhinged Magic
Before it turned to shit and we nearly died.
I’d barely held it together, having not used my magic in that way before. I didn’t even know it was possible. It seemed beingaround Skye had awoken another side of it. A protective side that would do anything to keep her safe.
I would go to the end of the world for her.
It was an acutely frustrating thing to have her not feel the bond. And to know mybrotherhad something to do with it was something I could not comprehend.
I barely remembered him.
From what I was told, we were six years old, playing in the scrub near our house. All I remember were his screams as he tumbled down the well, into the inky depths below. No one knew it was there, buried under seasonal leaves in the dirt. Sometimes I dreamed about it, heard his screams, but I never saw his face. Memories buried so deep I couldn’t dredge them to the surface.
I’d needed a distraction, so buried myself in bookwork, only to find myself unable to concentrate. My mind continuously returned to Skye.
I peered down at the sketch before me, something I had been working on in my quiet moments. Pencil filled the cream paper, lines and different shades of gray, turning a picture in my mind into reality. Finally.
The door to Inked opened, and I looked up to find Skye standing in the entrance. She wore faded blue jeans with rips in them, exposing slices of her skin beneath the material.
Damn. Her relaxed composure was a far contrast from her entry to the shop only yesterday.
I couldn’t help the smile that broke over my face. “Hey you.”
She closed the door behind her, stepping further into the shop, burying her hands in her jacket pockets. “Hey, are you busy?”
I flipped the front page over, hiding my work. “It can wait.”
As I made to stand up, my hand clipped the sketch pad, causing it to fall, the pad hitting the ground face up, my drawing in clear view.
Before I could bend to grab it, Skye beat me to it.
“This is stunning. Did you draw this?” She looked up at me expectantly, her gaze pulling me into her world like it always did.
“Yeah, do you like it?”
“It’s adove.” Her words breezed from her in awe.
I nodded once. “It is.”
She seemed surprised, words not coming easily to her. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you drew this. Why?”
For you. To declare to the entire world that everything I do from here on would be for you.
Instead, I kept my cool, casually leaning against the front of my desk, my hands gripping it on either side of me. Anything to keep me from touching her. Fuck, I wanted to touch her.
“The comment you made about wanting a tattoo of a dove. I was just playing around, it’s stupid. Forget it.”
I went to ask for it back, but she grabbed my wrist, pausing my motion. Her grip on my arm spiked both my heart rate and my dick, the intensity of her touch spiraling my insides into a fucking mess. I was gripping the last strands of my self-restraint, teetering on the cliff edge by my fingers. Holding on for her.
Her fingers molded into my skin, her petite hand barely able to wrap around my wrist.
“You did this for me.”
Her statement held so much weight behind it. It pressed heavily on my chest.
I didn’t know what to say, her reaction both catching me off guard and filling me with pride. I hoped she would like it, but this was deeper. Like she realized the effort I had gone to.
Like it meant something.
“I thought if you decided not to get it tattooed, then at least it might look cool in a frame.”
