Page 84 of Unmarked Magic

Footsteps sounded, and Callan emerged beside me. “Remarkable,” he mused, head tilted to one side.

I held back my grimace. This entire scenario was anything but fucking remarkable.

Reid fired him a skeptical look. “Glad to be your amusement for the evening. Now fuck off.” He tugged at his chains harder this time, and I jumped when the unexpected movement frightened me.

I needed to get myself together. For Reid’s sake. I couldn’t let him see me freaking out. I had to be strong. For both of us.

Callan gripped Reid’s face in a way that gave him no means to fight it. He tilted his head, forcing him to look up at him. Somewhat assessing him, he spoke to no one in particular. “His eyes. Have they always been like this?”

At first glance, nothing seemed different. But as Callan turned Reid’s chin to face me, I saw it. His pupils had darkened; from a distance, I would never notice, but, up close, they had a subtle red tint to them.

“No, never,” I answered. “Not like that.”

Callan’s gaze drifted down the front of Reid’s body before drawing back up again. He released his grip from his chin, ignoring the sneer fired at him. “Forgive my curiosity, but what do you smell?”

At his question, Reid smashed his fist against the wall. “I told you. Blood. Hers.”

I inwardly cringed at him not using my name. It felt so impersonal. So cold. His impatience showed in his voice, his tone becoming harsher with every word.

Callan’s finger drew a nonchalant circle in the air. “You don’t smell anyone else’s?”

Reid’s gaze flung from Tyler to Colt, darting between them. Eventually, it landed on me again, and his eyes flared with devastation.

My heart wept at the way he looked at me. For him, for us. My stomach did a somersault. Twice.

“No,” he finally answered.

Callans paused, deep in thought. “That’s unexpected.” His silence pulsed in the air. My anxiety rocketed with every second. When he finally spoke, his voice came out so matter-of-factly I could have screamed. “I’ve not witnessed this before.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, confused.

This time, Callan looked at me directly. “Because a vampire should smell all types of blood, human or not.”

I let his words sink in. Couldn’t comprehend them at all.

“Then why can I only smell hers?” Reid asked, motioning to me. A nod in my direction like I was a thing, not a person.

Ouch.

“I do not know,” he answered honestly. Callan turned to me, a tick in his jaw. “This is not normal.” He stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “Wait here.”

“Like I have a choice,” Reid muttered, as if he’d read my own thoughts.

I wasn’t sure what Callan was up to, but I didn’t question it. He knew more about this than any of us, and, right now, he was our only source of any kind of help.

Reid’s voice broke my thoughts. “Look at me.”

My automated response was to do as he asked. “I have a name,” I snapped, and, the moment the words left me, I wished they hadn’t. It wasn’t his fault he was in this predicament. It was mine. If I hadn’t been so selfish, so desperate to find out what he was hiding, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

Suddenly, Reid’s features softened, his eyes dimming like two dying flames. “Scar,” he rasped, the pain in his voice obvious now. “You need to leave. I’ve never been more serious in my life.” Despair hung in the depths of his eyes, like he’d gathered all hope in his clenched fist and smashed it against the cell walls.

“I’m not leaving you. That’s not an option.” If it were me in this situation, he would never leave me. I would not do it to him.

“Stop being so damn stubborn,” he pushed, more urgently this time.

I moved closer, crouching in front of him. My hand shook as I extended it before finally pressing my palm into his jeans above the knee. He flinched, pulling his leg to his chest, causing my hand to slide off him. I steeled my face, trying not to show my disappointment. I drew in a deep breath before I spoke again. “I know the risks. I also know you won’t hurt me,” I said evenly. The bond between us wound deeper at my words. I felt his pain in that moment as if it were my own. It’s heaviness weighing me down. He held my gaze in a vise grip; one I desperately wanted to hold on to. Because our connection may only be fresh, but it was potent. Our own concoction. Our own tonic. The mate bond danced between us, invisible, but undeniable.

His next words came firmly. “None of us can be certain of that,” he ground out as if he hated saying the words. “Not you, not me.”