Page 32 of Untraced Magic
The room suddenly drifted as in slow motion. A blur. I blinked, clearing the haze.
I shook my head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m good.”
What was up with this bar tonight?
Tyler
Musicthumpedthewallsof the staircase, crashing into my ears as I entered the basement. Dropping my shoulder against the wall, I watched as Wes beat the shit out of a boxing bag, never once stopping for breath.
What hadhisballs in a knot?
I turned down the music, just enough to let me hear my own thoughts and get his attention. It earned me a foul look before he slid back into his rhythm again.
Wes ignored me, continuing to pound the bag relentlessly as it swung wildly from an overhead beam. I took hold of it, and he pounded it against my shoulder, assaulting it with an onslaught of jabs before finally finishing with a roundhouse kick that sent it hard into my chest with athud.
His bare chest heaved in air. You’d think for a guy who earned a living tattooing others, he’d be covered in ink himself, but not Wes. He had an artful hand but preferred his own skin unmarked.
I raised a brow at him. “You good?”
Backing off, he remained silent, drawing his forearm across his glistening hairline.
“You’re killing this thing,” I pushed.
He cracked his knuckles, turning away from me. “It’s nothing.”
I scoffed, steadying the bag. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
He glared at me. “You don’t let up, do you?”
I narrowed my eyes at his sharp tone.
He slumped against the wall, tipping his head back, his chest gathering air. Moments passed as he stared at the ceiling before turning his gaze in my direction. “Something’s not right. My senses are off.”
He splayed out his fingers before the popping of his knuckles returned.
I eyed him curiously. “Off as in… how?”
“It’s hard to describe.” He paused, considering his next words. “I’m on edge but can’t sense why.”
He pushed off the wall to pace the room, raking his hands through his hair until they rested on the back of his neck.
He turned to face me. “It started when Morgan moved in.”
His intense gaze connected with mine, and my chest tightened uncomfortably. I knew the basics but was unsure of the intimate workings of Wes’s gift.
Pulling myself together, I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Look, I don’t really get how this whole sensor thing works, but she seems genuinely human to me.”
Wes never doubted his gift, and it never let him down. If I was honest, his admission was really fucking unsettling.
“I know that. I’m just saying be careful,” he cautioned.
Wes held the bag against his own shoulder, and I set upon it, unleashing a fury of my own pent-up frustration. The bag heaved violently against his chest with each blow I fired at it, leaving my knuckles aching and raw.
Was Morgan really a wolf in sheep’s clothing? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to pull the wool over our eyes, and it wouldn’t be the last.
He had to be wrong. Every inch of me told me he was wrong. Screamed at me, tearing at my eardrums.
