Page 27 of Unmarked Magic

Downstairs, a creak in the floorboards sounded, just as it had done every time she moved on the couch directly below me. It sounded as if only a wafer separated the two levels, and I swore there must have been minimal building standards back when the place was built. I tried to ignore every creak, but, try as I might, my mind kept drifting back to her. Those pajamas had left little to the imagination. Her plump breasts, her ass cheeks. They were all covered, but, fuck me, not but much.

Another noise downstairs drew my attention, and I zeroed in on the sound that I immediately imagined one would make in the throes of a nightmare. At this thought, the overwhelming urge to comfort and protect her tore through my bloodstream. I sat bolt upright, my ears pinned to the silence. There it was again: muffled, but there was no mistaking it.

Slipping out of bed, I padded quietly over to my bedroom door. One thing I never liked was waking people, so I’d already memorized the exact part of each step that didn’t creak so as not to wake Red when I woke earlier than her every morning.

Silently making my way downstairs, the noise became clearer, as did the scent of her blood. It hit me so hard; I gripped the handrail to stop me from doubling over.

Arousal in its purest form engorged my senses.

Hers.

I held back the groan that threatened to leave me, my grip tightening. She was touching herself. Fuck.

Her breathy moans were like a siren pulling me toward her, but my feet remained glued to the stairs. Remaining hidden from sight, she faced away from me, a hand under the comforter between her thighs. Doing what I desperately wished I could. Fuck, I wanted to touch her.

The subtle movements under the comforter suggested the roll of her hips, and, as she climbed her peak, my dick got harder. I knew I shouldn’t be watching such a personal moment unfold, but, as her breathing became faster, the scent of her blood left me paralyzed. I couldn’t tear myself from watching if I tried.

Her heartbeat pounded. She smothered a featherlight whimper.

Choking on her desire, her scent engorged me, and I slammed my eyes closed, attempting to fight the urge to help her finish. Because I’d never wanted to do something so badly in my entire existence.

I just needed to hold on. To not move an inch.

Easier said than done.

When she came, my name shuddered from her lips in a breathy whisper, her legs slamming together under the covers as she smothered her mouth with her forearm.

Fuck me.

A crack of thunder sounded outside, rattling the windows.

An unexpected storm? It wasn’t predicted.

Her magic? Possibly…

Her climax seemed endless as she rode out the waves of pleasure wracking her body. I’d never seen someone climax this way before.

I was completely and utterly entranced.

Dropping until my ass hit the step, I gripped the handrail as if letting go would give away my proximity to her. Nothing could have prepared me for it. For hearing my name come from her in that way. It hit deep. Deeper than I wanted to admit. Generally, hearing women say my name while we were intimate wasn’t something I liked. But from her? It had an emotional connection attached to it that hit my chest like a fucking sledgehammer.

Fuck.

How was I supposed to keep living in this house with her? One of my closest friends. I could destroy her if I slipped up. If I let anything happen between us.

Begrudgingly, I crept back upstairs and slid back into bed. I didn’t know how I would look her in the eyes again, having witnessed what I just had. Because now I knew what she sounded like when she let go. And fuck if that didn’t make me want to hear it again.

***

My knuckles hit Colt’s front door hard. I didn’t care that I looked like a fucking psycho to anyone watching. I needed to speak with him.

When it swung open, a grim line pressed deeply into his mouth, and I immediately braced myself for bad news. “I need updates,” I ordered, looking him square in the eyes. Colt didn’t need to answer. One look at his face was enough. I pushed past him. “Give it to me straight.”

He ran a hand through his cropped hair, the hesitancy in his eyes telling me everything I needed to know. “It’s not good news.” He shoved his hands into his jeans. “What’s left of it is… it’s unsalvageable.”

Fear gripped my chest.

Storming past him, I headed to where I knew the botanical I desperately needed usually grew. The normally vibrant purple flower flopped lazily to the side, its stem bowing to the soil where its roots lay buried. Lifting what was left of the flower with my finger, its remains dissolved at my touch.