Page 25 of Unmarked Magic

“Here.” His voice deepened, and I turned to find the faint outline of him right in front of me, holding my antique candlestick, a long white candle, and matches.

“Hold this,” he ordered, sticking the candle in the holder and handing it to me.

I did as he asked, watching as he struck the match. He cradled the candle with his hand as if sheltering it from a nonexistent wind, lighting the wick until flame lit the space between us. It cast an amber glow in the dark as we stood face-to-face. Shadows danced around the room like witches in a movie would a bonfire, chanting an ancient ritual. I was thankful for the flame flickering between us.

“You’re afraid of the dark?” he asked.

I lied. “No.”

His head dipped to watch me more closely. “You look both frightened and relieved,” he said pointedly. “It’s okay,” he assured me, and the moment his words hit my ears I felt my nerves settle.

I took a deep breath, rubbing my arms to warm them. “In my defense, I got woken from my sleep by a fire alarm. And now…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, because I was genuinely afraid of the dark, and had been since I was a child.

Reid extended his hand. “Come with me,” he offered lowly.

I didn’t reach for it straight away, knowing the last thing we needed was more bodily contact. Because in one night, I’d broken his only damned rule and kissed him, then groped his leg, and now we were standing in a kitchen in the dark, inches away from each other and wearing only a few stitches of clothing.

Noting my hesitation, he placed the candle on the counter beside me before his other hand landed on my arm. “I’m going to re-stoke the fire, then we’ll put this candle by the hearth,” he said.

His attempt to comfort me had done the exact opposite. I forced my eyes to remain open as the sensation of his palm on me did everything it shouldn’t. My skin warmed under his touch and moths pitter-patted low in my belly, kicking my nerves into overdrive once more. Gods, I needed to get these thoughts of him out of my head. I hoped someone would soon fix the power outage, but I’d seen the amount of snow outside the door, and didn’t like my chances. A tree branch had probably broken the power lines somewhere. So, tonight, this was about as good as it was going to get.

One candle. One fire. And us.

At least I wasn’t alone in the dark.

That thought did comfort me.

“Okay,” I said on an unsteady breath.

His hand encased mine when he took it, and I felt the warmth of his palm on my own. Leading us into the living area, he rested the candlestick on the side of the hearth before moving to the box of firewood and picking up two logs. Stoking the open fire, he blew on it, igniting a small flame that sent the smallest of glow through the room. I was grateful for the extra light, and, as the flame grew bigger, the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach soon subsided.

“Thank you,” I said, wrapping my arms around my middle.

Reid moved the coffee table to one side before reaching for one of the two blankets draped across the couch. He spread it out in front of the fire, motioning me to sit. When I did, he wrapped the other blanket around my shoulders. This was a side of Reid that was new to me.

A cozy warmth wrapped around me, instantly calming my racing heart, as my gaze gravitated to the flickering flame. Like a magnet, the urge to watch it pulled me deeper.

“There’s nothing like an open fire,” Reid mused, sitting on the blanket beside me.

From the corner of my eye, I watched his movements. He stretched his long leg in front of him, the other bent at the knee with his elbow rested on top. In the golden glow of the fire, he looked mesmerizing. His tattoos seemed to come alive.

“Why do you never show off your tattoos?” The question came out before I could consider the consequences. We all knew Reid had a story, but, to my knowledge, he had always kept it to himself.

He tensed, and his torso straightened. He picked an imaginary piece of fluff off his boxers, which I’d successfully ignored until now, making a show of throwing it into the fire. His silence spoke words alone.

I felt the need to backtrack fast. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” I hadn’t meant to ask such a personal question.

When he didn’t speak, I imagined that was the end of the subject. Desperately, I searched for a new one.

When he spoke first, I wasn’t expecting it.

“Some wear their scars on the inside. Others are not so lucky.” He remained fixated on the fire and spread his fingers wide before bunching them into a fist.

The word made me pause. Scars?

For five years, Reid had been a locked door. Tonight he was leaving it open a crack. Confused, I did what any good friend would do. “You know, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m a pretty good listener.” I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, darting a look in his direction. “I know we usually banter, but…” I didn’t know how to say what I was trying to. This was new territory for us. I usually had my deep and meaningful chats with Skye, not the guys. Not him.

His cautious stare turned to find mine in a way it had never done before. It held a weight about it that had been missing, something deeper that I didn’t fully understand. He stared at me as if trying to comprehend my words, the entire night, even.