Page 34 of Unmarked Magic

I followed the bloodied smudges upstairs and down the hallway, not slowing down until they stopped at the bathroom. Pausing, my hand hovered over the doorknob, caution slowing my movements as my ears pinned to the unnatural silence. Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly pushed it open, stopping short at the sight in front of me. “Holy shit. Reid!”

He lay slumped over the side of the bath wearing only his boxers, a bloodied singlet clinging to his frame, and his arms smeared a deep red, even in the dim light.

I instinctively switched on the light, flooding the bathroom in color again. “My gods!” I hurried over to him, kneeling beside his crumpled torso that looked as if he’d attempted to get into the bath and failed.

“Red?” He looked up at me, and I noted a large cut on his cheek. His brown eyes resembled gravestones: stone cold, with death’s presence engraved into them.

I found myself lost for words as I ran my hand over his face, smearing blood away from his brow with my thumb. “What happened to you?”

He didn’t answer. His vacant stare peered straight through me.

“Are you okay?”

“Jusss stellar,” he managed this time.

I couldn’t stop the uncertainty crawling into my tone. “How do I…?” I didn’t even know where to start. My hands cupped each cheek. “You’re wounded.” His head molded to my palms as I gently moved it, assessing him.

“Have your eyes always been like that?” he drawled, his vision suddenly coming into focus.

I arched a brow. “Like what?” He looked like an absolute wreck and desperately needed a bath. If I was to figure out if any of this blood was his, I needed to get him cleaned up.

“Like fall landed in them.”

Gods, he was delirious.

“Okay, I think you’ve lost as many brain cells as you have blood,” I half-joked. Lifting his arm, I helped pull his singlet over his head, tossing it aside while trying to ignore our proximity. It was the first time I’d seen him completely topless, and, as I kneeled only inches from him, it became harder to do so by the second.

“If moss and fallen leaves hadda baby, it would make that.” He pointed directly at my eyes; he might have a concussion if his speech was anything to go by.

I placed my hands on either side of his head, inspecting him closer. “Who knocked you out?” I asked.

“No one knockssss me out,” he slurred.

Okay. Rephrase that. “Who did this to you?”

He batted my hands away from his face, slurring again. “Jusss leave.”

I stared at him, bemused. He didn’t want to talk, and, even if he did, I wasn’t sure if I should believe him in this state. He had moments of clarity, then just as quick, not.

I wrapped my arm under his. “Okay, tough guy, can you stand?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, attempting to lift to his feet. But, as he made to straighten, he collapsed against me.

What the hell happened to him?

I helped him into the bath, turning on the tap. The water turned light pink as it soaked his wounds. I turned it off when it covered him to mid-waist. Noting a glass on the counter, I filled it with water and lifted it to his lips. He took a sip, and my gaze dropped to where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Sinking into the water, he leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He looked peaceful, and I wondered where his mind went at that moment.

Was he replaying the night’s events or something else?

Reaching for a facecloth, I dipped it into the water before soaking his chest, not missing the way his body went rigid at the contact. Unsure if I should continue, I paused, almost waiting for permission. I don’t know why it felt like that, but I waited all the same. When he didn’t object, I continued.

As water washed away the dried blood, tattoos replaced it. The intricate designs that were usually hidden behind material emerged to me in sheet music, but not as I knew it. These were different. Like each note wore a heartbeat.

His eyes remained closed as he spoke. “You’re staring.” His chest moved with his words and the notes came to life.

I struggled to drag my eyes off them.