SAMMY SWALLOWED another mouthful of chicken. The dish had a fancy name, but he thought of it as “divine chicken.” The best thing he ever tasted.
Lucien drank wine and watched him with a sweet smile on his face. “I think you like that dish.”
Sammy nodded and took a sip of his sauvignon blanc. He was old enough to order it, barely. He’d never had wine before. An acquired taste for sure, sort of dry and wet at the same time. A little bitter and a little sweet, but he kind of liked it. “This is the best chicken on earth.”
Lucien laughed, that tinkling-bells sound. “I’m delighted you’re enjoying it.”
Sammy glanced around the elegant restaurant, with its red banquettes and white tablecloths. “This place is awesome, but you didn’t have to bring me someplace so fancy.” He lowered his voice. “It must cost an awful lot.” He was glad Lucien hadn’t agreed to split the check. His meager budget couldn’t have stood it.
“It’s all right. My family is rich. I enjoy spending money on you. But your family must be supernatural. Are they not wealthy?”
Sammy shook his head and swallowed again. “No. My dad’s, you know, special”—he glanced around to be sure no one was close enough to hear—“but he lived as a regular person for so many years, I think he likes it. He’s a hardworking guy with a lot of kids to raise. I try not to be more of a burden.”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
Sammy shrugged. “I’m a pretty sorry excuse for a witch. I can’t do anything worthwhile that might help the family. So I got some scholarships for school, and I work to pay for my other expenses.”
Lucien leaned forward. “That’s admirable. But surely you have talent.”
“I paint.”
“Yes, and very well, but I meant supernatural talent.”
“Me too. I’m a prophetic painter. I paint stuff, and it happens. I painted you.”
Lucien’s blue eyes widened. “Me?”
“Yes, I painted you walking into art class, and the next day, there you were. The stuff always comes true, but it never amounts to much. No earthquake predictions or villains apprehended. I can’t figure out what it’s worth.” Sammy sipped his wine. It was tough admitting what a crap witch he was.
Lucien laughed. “Ah, I see. Not to worry. You’re an excellent painter. That will be your path to greatness.”
A strong sneeze sounded from the third chair. Aloysius putting in his two cents. The cat was cracked on the subject of Lucien.
Lucien stared at Aloysius with a raised eyebrow. “He does have very definite opinions. What do you suppose he wants with you?”
“No idea, honestly.” He shrugged. “He’s nice to have around, though.”
They chatted their way through the flambéing of the cherries jubilee. Sammy really enjoyed Lucien’s stories about life in the “old country,” where a lot of humans still believed in witchcraft. “We have to be very careful not to be found out.”
Sammy swallowed the last of his dessert. He could barely believe he was eating so grandly. “In my witchcraft class, Killian taught us that hundreds of thousands of people were burned or drowned as witches during the heyday of the witch trials. But he told the young witches confidentially that very few of the people killed were actually witches. Mostly humans killed each other.”
“You actually have a class on witchcraft? How extraordinary.”
“Yes, Killian is a terrific teacher. He teaches the class as history, and none of the humans really believe it. It’s fun for them and kind of titillating. Plus Killian’s really popular with the students, so I think the university lets him teach whatever he wants. The class is guaranteed to be a sellout.” Sammy grinned. “Of course, a lot of that is girls who want to sit in the front rows and drool over him. He’s gorgeous.”
“And he’s gay, I understand.”
“Yep. Married to a physics professor.”
Lucien’s beautiful brows rose. “That must be a story!”
“It is.”
“How about I pay the check and you tell me on the way home?”
“Deal. You sure I can’t pay?” Sammy held his breath.
“No, thank you. It’s my pleasure.”
Sammy laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s mine.”
Lucien hailed a cab. A half hour later, they were standing in the hall outside Sammy’s apartment. Hmm. He was almost afraid to ask after his strikeout with Arnold. “You want to come in?”
Lucien smiled, and Sammy swore his teeth gleamed in the dim light. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“Like I said, it’s not much.” He turned the key in the lock, flipped on the lamp on the side table by the door, and stepped aside for Lucien to enter.
Aloysius slithered off Sammy’s neck and huffed his way to the sleeping area. Lucien walked a few steps into the room and gazed around. The beautiful, impeccably dressed man made the surroundings look even shabbier.
Sammy walked over to the little kitchenette. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got some iced coffee. Sorry. No wine. I don’t usually drink it.” Usually? Try never.
“Iced coffee would be lovely.” Lucien went to the couch and sat. Sammy hoped he missed the lumps.
Sammy grabbed his two best glasses, washed them for the occasion, and poured some cold black coffee into them, then filled the rest of the glass with milk and ice.
He carried the glasses back to Lucien, who patted the space next to him. Okay, things looked promising.
They clinked glasses. Lucien sipped. “Nice. Quite refreshing.”
“Glad you like it. I’m kind of a coffee-holic.”
Lucien put an arm behind Sammy on the back of the couch. “I’m very anxious to see the painting you say you made of me.”
“Oh, okay.” Sammy felt a little weird. He didn’t usually show his prophetic paintings to anyone, except once to Killian. He set his glass on the rickety coffee table and went over to the stack of canvases he had propped in a corner. He moved a couple aside.
“Hey, what’s that one?”
Sammy looked down at the picture of the gorgeous human he now knew was Ryder. “My friend Ryder.” He held up the painting.
“The man we met last night?”
Sammy nodded.
“That’s not your usual painting style, is it?”
“No. My prophetic paintings are done in absolute realism, as you can see.”
“Oh. I didn’t understand that this was a prophetic painting. What is the significance?”
Sammy sighed. “Like I told you, none at all. My friend changed a lot during the summer, and this painting showed me that. BFD. I saw him in person an hour later.”
Lucien smiled. “Don’t be discouraged. The painting is quite beautiful.”
Sammy pawed through the stack. “Here’s yours.” He held up the painting.
“Amazing. You painted this before we met?”
“Yep.” He chuckled. “I thought I had a guardian angel come to look after me.” A soft growl sounded from his bed. “Shut up, Al.”
“Your cat, uh, familiar seems very temperamental.”
Sammy flashed a look at the ball of fur. “Yeah.”
Lucien nodded his golden head toward the painting. “Didn’t you paint that recently? Is it already dry?”
“The prophetic paintings dry immediately, like they want to make the prophecy permanent.”
“Fascinating.”
Sammy set down the painting and went back over to sit beside Lucien. He picked up his coffee. “It is interesting. I wish it was good for something. I mean, I get this for a power, but I can’t do a lot of other stuff witches do. I can’t discern when someone else is a witch. I didn’t know you were one until Chen told me. I can’t call lightning, although I know most witches can’t do that. I can’t make Aloysius invisible, although he does a good job of that himself.”
“So what is Killian’s familiar doing with you?”
“Answer that and you win the grand prize. None of us knows. Except Aloysius, I guess.”
Lucien slowly sipped. Watching those full lips on the edge of the glass made Sammy’s cock sit up and wave.
Lucien put down his glass and leaned back on the couch. “I love that you thought I was your guardian angel.” He reached out a slim, impossibly elegant hand and touched Sammy’s cheek. “I’d like it if you thought of me that way. I feel very protective of you. I’d like to shelter you from everyone—except me.” His laugh was soft and low, making nerves in Sammy’s groin tingle.
Lucien slid two slim fingers from Sammy’s cheek to his lips, where Lucien touched very gently, then smoothed his way back and forth, back and forth. Boy, maybe that long-awaited kiss might happen.
The angel leaned in toward Sammy. He slipped his hand from Sammy’s lips, around his head, and pulled firmly so Sammy met those perfect lips halfway—and then they touched. Sammy now had a new definition of sweetness. Soft, just a tiny bit cool, with a flavor like strawberries. No kidding. Actual strawberries. Was it flavored lip moisturizer? Too real.
Lucien caressed Sammy’s lips with his tongue, and the tingling flashed straight to Sammy’s cock. Of course, he was so sex deprived, it didn’t take much to get him going. Still, for a guy who hadn’t been kissed in months, he’d leaped straight into the advanced class.
Lucien tangled his fingers in Sammy’s hair and slanted his head. His lips might be cool, but his tongue blazed like a hot brand and demanded entrance into Sammy’s mouth. Sammy wasn’t fighting. He parted his lips, and Lucien dived inside, pulling him tight against his lean angel’s body.
Sammy felt more than heard his own moan. The smell of strawberries and sex filled his head, and Lucien slipped his tongue in and out of Sammy’s mouth, mimicking the exact motion he’d like to have performed on other parts of his body.
Whew. This was moving fast. Sammy’s head felt muddled, but his body screamed for sex.
Lucien slid his hand down to Sammy’s crotch, and he cupped what had to be one giant bulge in Sammy’s jeans and started to squeeze. Holy crap! Each grip sent hot flashes straight to the boiling mass of cum in Sammy’s balls.
Lucien pulled back and stared into Sammy’s eyes. Sammy tried to look alert, but his lids felt really heavy, like he was on the world’s best drug. Lucien grinned and kept squeezing where it did the most good. One more minute and Sammy was going to come. His balls tightened and readied for a big blow. Have to get a grip.
Lucien whispered, “I think you need to be sucked. That penis feels very neglected.”
That was so true. Being sucked sounded like the best of all possible activities. Sammy wanted it. He needed it. Why was some little voice in his head chanting No, no, no, no?
“Errrrrrrr.” A growl echoed from behind him.
Damn the voice. Damn the cat. Sammy grabbed Lucien’s head and pulled him in for another hot kiss. Their tongues tangled, and Sammy felt tugging on his zipper. He reached down to unbutton his fly and… shit. He felt weird. Like he was cheating or something, which was stupid and a leftover pipe dream. His inner being might be conflicted, but man, his cock was not. That rod wanted it bad. Ooh, cool air on his little witch. Wow. Hot breath. He opened his eyes and saw the pale gold of Lucien’s hair draping over his lap. Lucien seemed anxious. It was a good thing witches didn’t need condoms. The breath got hotter and moister. This was it. Oh, wow….
Sammy’s body jerked as Lucien’s wet tongue connected with his cockhead. In one move, Sammy backed up two feet on the couch. “Sorry. I… I think I shouldn’t do this. I mean, I think it’s too soon. You know? I mean, I want it a lot. But I just met you and….” What in hells was he doing?
Lucien’s arched brows drew together over his pale blue eyes. His chest rose. Then gradually his face returned to its luminous, beatific expression. “Of course. I understand completely. I didn’t mean to rush things. But it’s your fault, being so very irresistible.”
Not that Sammy had ever noticed. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding.” Especially when Sammy didn’t understand himself.
“I should go, or we are likely to wind up right back in that position, don’t you think?”
Talk about torn. Sammy’s cock screamed at him not to be an ass. The most gorgeous witch on earth had tried to suck him off, and he was demurring. Completely nuts. “Okay, I guess so.”
Lucien stood, his beautiful black slacks slightly tented over his erection. Sammy’s mouth watered. He loved sucking. The feel of smooth, hard flesh stretched under his tongue did it for him. Lucien was European, so he would be uncut. Sammy could work his tongue under the foreskin and—shit, he had to quit this. Decide what you want, idiot!
“Errrrr.” Damn the cat.
Lucien started toward the door, and Sammy stood. Maybe to call him back. Apologize. Sammy might never get to see Lucien again after this stunt. He hurried after him.
Lucien turned at the door. Sammy almost bumped into him. Lucien touched Sammy’s cheek with a graceful hand. “May I see you again soon?”
Whew. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow in class with a proposal for our next date, all right?”
Sammy grinned. “That would be great.”
Lucien leaned in and kissed Sammy softly on the lips. “I respect a man who respects himself. After all, we are not animals. Thank you for reminding me.”
Yeah, well, Sammy felt pretty much like an animal right now. His cock would not give up, and his one pair of good gray slacks looked like the center ring at Barnum & Bailey. “See you tomorrow.”
Sammy closed the door behind Lucien and stood there staring at the floor. Or it would have been the floor, except his damned dick was sticking out in his view. What in hells had come over him? After complaining for months that he didn’t have a boyfriend, here came the most luscious guy on earth, just begging to give Sammy the orgasm of his life, and what did he do? Sheeee-it!
“Merwar.”
Sammy stared at Al. “Did you have something to do with this? Did you make me feel weird?”
“Merwaooowr.”
“No use denying it, cat. You don’t like Lucien.” Sammy threw his hands up. “Oh hells, I’m talking to an animal.”
At least it sounded like he might get another chance to go out with Lucien. Next time he would not blow it.
Sammy shook his head, turned out the light by the door, and wandered over to the bed. He stripped, then hung up his good pants and shirt in the tiny closet. A glance down showed an intruder in his view. Hard to ignore that the old dick monster hadn’t quit hoping. He sighed, crawled into bed next to Aloysius, and pulled a bottle of lube out of the drawer. “Sorry you have to see this, fella, but desperate issues require immediate measures, and I suspect my condition is all your fault.” He squirted the juice into his hand, lay down under the covers so Al didn’t have to watch too closely, and closed his eyes. At least he could imagine Lucien sucking him off while he spanked his monkey.
“Merwaor.” Al jumped off the bed and padded out of the sleeping area. Clearly not a voyeur.
Sammy grabbed hold of his cock and started to stroke. It was cool to imagine Lucien kneeling in front of him, those carved lips wrapped around his cockhead and tongue circling. Good. Some more strokes. Lucien licking up one side and down the other while he squeezed the head. Better. Oh yeah, going to come. Picture that gorgeous face. Coming. Look at that long brown hair sweeping around the pointed ears. Coming…. What the hell? Oh! Jism spurted from his slit into his hand, filling it with hot, sticky cum, as the vision of the most beautiful man in the world leaned over to kiss him. But in this picture, that beautiful man was not Lucien. Hells and damnation. Even with Lucien as a possible fantasy, Sammy was still jerking off to Ryder.
When Aloysius jumped back up beside Sammy, his purr vibrated the bed.
RYDER LOOKED up from the history book he was studying on his e-reader and saw Maybelle Revere sort of floating down the sidewalk in front of the history building. Maybe a new boyfriend? “Hey, Maybelle.”
She turned her head toward him. Man, was she on drugs? Finally her eyes seemed to focus. “Hi, Ryder. How ya doing?”
He held up the reader. “Trying to get ready for my Chinese history exam.”
“Ooooh, gooood.” What was wrong with her?
“Is everything all right? What’s new?”
Maybelle adjusted her cardigan sweater over her ample chest. “Oh yes, everything is fiiine. Have you met the new boy?”
Ryder frowned. “Which new boy?”
“Lucien. Have you met Lucien?”
“Yes, briefly. When I saw you all at the restaurant the other night, remember?”
Her eyes unfocused again. “Oh yes. Did I see you? Yes. Isn’t he wonderful?”
“I can’t say. I only met him for a minute.”
“A minute is all it takes.” Maybelle walked away from him, completely oblivious to his existence as far as he could tell. This was weird.
He jumped off the stone wall he was sitting on and fell in beside her. “Is everything okay, Maybelle? You seem a little distracted.”
She frowned. “I do? I said everything is fine, Ryder. It’s perfectly fine.” She marched away from him with purpose and went up to another girl Ryder knew a little. They started to talk, and Maybelle seemed more normal. At least she wasn’t alone.
Okay, he had to finish studying. He walked back to the wall and leaned, opening his e-reader again. Han Dynasty. Divided into commanderies. A giggle made him raise his head. Not just any giggle.
Sammy walked down the sidewalk toward the art building beside none other than Mr. A-Minute-Is-All-It-Takes. Ryder scooted back under the branches of the tree overhead. He didn’t want Sammy to think he was spying. Not that the guy would even notice Ryder. Sammy looked totally besotted, staring up into Lucien’s glacial eyes like they couldn’t freeze the ass off a Siberian husky. Sammy’s fingers intertwined with Lucien’s as they walked, and Sammy glanced shyly up through his eyelashes. Ryder felt his chest contract and heat press behind his eyes. Why did this whole thing feel so wrong? Why did that guy get Sammy?
Damn. Ryder forced his eyes back to the e-reader. Study, do the test, and then find Sammy. The Han was founded by the rebel leader Liu Bang, who became known as…. His phone rang. Well, shit. He wanted to ace his test.
He grabbed the phone, glanced at it, and sighed. His parents were totally enamored with calling him on the phone. They’d even learned how to text.
Ryder pushed Accept. “Hello.”
“How are you feeling, son?” His father’s deep voice.
“Well, sir. I think I’ve stopped growing for the moment.”
“Such changes can be quite overwhelming.”
“Yes, but I’m doing okay.”
“How are your friends taking it?”
“Surprised but nothing more.”
“Good. And how is everything?”
“All right, but there’s a new student here who is, um, concerning. He has befriended Samlyn.”
His father’s voice sounded gruff. “Perhaps that’s a good thing. You can pull back without a problem.”
Ryder’s heart squeezed tighter. “He’s my friend.”
“And too close a friend, your mother and I believe. You know that.”
Ryder frowned. “My friendships have been useful.”
“Yes, that is true. But maintain perspective. You will have to separate soon. Your time there is almost over.”
No, damn it. The pressure in his chest hurt. “Yes, sir. I must go. I have to study.”
“Very well. You take your responsibilities at school very seriously.”
“Yes.”
“Remember which community is yours.”
“Yes, sir.”
The phone clicked off. Ryder stared at it. Shit. He had to study, but his hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold the damned e-reader. Almost over. Over.
Sammy.
SAMMY GAZED into Lucien’s eyes as they walked the last few steps to the art building. Of course, the twitching of Al’s tail kept getting in the way.
Lucien squeezed Sammy’s hand and sent a zing of fire straight to his cock. “Do you like the idea? We’ll meet for an early dinner and then go shopping for a gift for the Witch Master and his spouse.”
Sammy nodded, but it felt a little weird. He wanted to go in on the group present with the other young witches; he didn’t have a lot of extra money for an individual gift. “I guess that will be okay.”
Lucien squeezed again. “And don’t worry about the cost. It will be my delight to purchase something for so great a leader, but we will make it from both of us.”
“You don’t have to do that….”
He held up a hand. “I want to, Sammy. Truly.” He smiled his glowing, angelic beam that lit up whole rooms. How could Sammy say no to that?
“Thanks.”
They unlinked hands to go to their individual easels on opposite sides of the large classroom. Sammy grabbed a partially completed abstract of a vase of flowers he had started in the last class and set it on his easel. He’d used a picture he’d seen in a magazine for inspiration but had taken off from there. The picture had been photographic quality, but his painting was abstract. More about the essence of the beauty and color than the thing itself. It was going well. For today’s class the instructor had set up a still life in the center of the room with a table, some books, and bottles. Hmmm. Sammy really wanted to paint the flowers. Maybe he would get to the bottles and books later. Bottles were a great challenge because of the transparency of the glass.
As Sammy arranged his paints, he glanced over at Lucien. Pale eyes gazed back at him. Wow. How cool was it to have such a beautiful man look at him like he was dinner? Lucien winked, and Sammy smiled. It was tough to believe after all this time without a boyfriend that a guy like Lucien would be interested in him.
The cat had taken his favorite place on a chair by the window behind Sammy. He didn’t seem to like Lucien any better, but at least he’d quit the constant growling.
Okay, deep breath. Sammy stared at the partially completed flower painting and plunged in. Plunged was the right word. For him, painting was a lot like diving into water. Sounds became muffled, his breathing slowed, but his sight became sharper, more focused. Almost on its own, his brush picked up paint and began to deepen the shadows inside the flower petals. But a viewer would barely be able to tell they were petals. The painting was more like “flowerness” than an actual flower.
The edges of Sammy’s vision blurred. Soft, warm oil poured over his brain and out through his brush. Dark, dark. Then light, light. People came in the class, students asked questions, the instructor walked around and gave encouragement. Sammy heard it all from a distance. He breathed underwater in a world of light and shadow. Red, pink, white, white. Purple, blue. He could almost smell the sweetness, feel the silky petals. Then dark. Whoa. Deep. Away. Like night. He was drowning in the water. His throat closed on a shout. This hadn’t happened before. Where was he? Panic crawled up his spine. Couldn’t catch his breath.
Help.
“Sammy, that’s extraordinary.”
Like a light shining into deep water. “What?”
Mr. Woodard’s hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him from the depths. “You always do fine work, but this is brilliant. Your best yet.”
Sammy tried to focus his eyes. His heart beat so fast he thought he was having a heart attack. “Really?”
Mr. Woodard cocked his head. “You okay?”
No. Yes. “Fine, thanks.”
The instructor smiled. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you, but I believe it’s finished, Sammy. Don’t gild the lily, literally.” He laughed.
“Oh. Yes.” Sammy looked at the painting and finally saw an abstract storm of color and dark out of which exploded pure flower essence. “Thanks.”
“It’s about time to clean up anyway.”
“It is?” He looked at the clock above the door to the studio. Over an hour had passed.
Mr. Woodard walked away, giving the class instructions for the next session. Something about learning to make thick white paint. Sammy shook his head. He couldn’t get the smell of flowers out of his nose, even with the turpentine he was using to clean his brushes. Where had he gone? Too scary.
Sammy loaded his tubes of paint, brushes, and palette knives back into his case. Lucien came up beside him. “I agree with Mr. Woodard. That is a great piece of work.”
“Thanks.”
“Amazing how you captured the colors of the flowers so exactly without actually creating the form of the flower.”
“What colors?”
“Of the flowers you were painting.”
“But I don’t have the picture I took the painting from anymore. What do you mean?”
Lucien nodded toward the still life many of the students had been using. “You captured the colors in the bouquet perfectly.”
“What bouquet?”
“Are you playing a game? The one on the table in the arrangement Woodard did. Sammy, are you okay?”
Sammy stared at the still life. The one he’d examined when he came in the room and decided to paint later, the assemblage of books and bottles on a table without flowers. There hadn’t been flowers, had there? He was sure there hadn’t been flowers. But now there were. Flowers exactly the same colors as the ones in his painting. His heart beat fast again. Whap. Aloysius landed on Sammy’s shoulder, and he reached up and petted his head. Sammy whispered, “Were there flowers there before, Al?”
“Mwar.”
Sammy shook his head. Mr. Woodard must have brought them in while he was painting. He’d been so absorbed he hadn’t noticed, but he’d observed the colors. Yes, that was it. Someone had brought the flowers. Maybe it was like when he fell asleep. The dark place he went to had allowed him to predict the flowers would be brought into the room. Predict? He’d started the painting last week.
Lucien took his hand, and Sammy looked over at his beautiful face. Sammy would like to paint his angel sometime when he was actually conscious. Lucien gave him a squeeze. “I have another class, but I’ll pick you up tonight, and we’ll have dinner and go shopping, okay?”
Sammy swallowed. “Yes, that will be great.”
“See you at six, all right?”
Sammy nodded, and Lucien walked off in his elegant stride toward the door. Sammy gathered his tackle box and scratched Al’s neck. The soft fur soothed him. “Let’s go get coffee.”
Yeah, coffee would save him. He double-timed his way to the coffee shop and pushed inside. Nobody seemed to notice Al, so he wasn’t worried. He peered through the crowded room toward the back table he and his friends favored. No Chen. Just Ryder. Gods, he hated feeling uncomfortable around the man, but those were the facts.
Deep breath. He walked over, stroking Al for moral support. “Hi, Ryder.”
His friend looked up, kind of startled. “Oh, hi, Sams.” His eyes looked red.
“You okay?”
Ryder picked up his coffee, and it sloshed a little on his hand. “Yeah. I had a history exam.”
Hmm. Did that explain anything? Sammy sat across from Ryder. Aloysius immediately jumped down, crossed to Ryder, and started licking the coffee off his hand.
Ryder scratched the cat’s neck with his other hand. “Thanks, boy. That feels good.”
To make Ryder feel good, Sammy would gladly lick him all over, but he didn’t want to go there. The man seemed so down. “Was the test a bitch?”
“No. I think I did all right.”
“So what’s wrong, buddy? You seem really depressed.”
Ryder shook his head. “Just my parents.”
Ryder had parents? “You never talk about your family much. What did they do?”
He sighed. “They want me to come home after I graduate and, uh, join the family business.”
“You don’t want to?”
“No, I want to stay here.”
“They live in the South somewhere, right?”
“Um. The South. Anyway, I have a while before I have to worry about it.”
Sammy smiled. “But I can hardly believe we’re seniors. We have to make plans to do something with this life.”
Ryder sipped his black coffee. “I’d like to stay here, get a PhD, and teach like Dr. Barth.”
“Sure. You could have your own harem of adoring females.” Did he sound bitter?
Ryder shrugged. “I guess.”
Boy, the guy didn’t even rise to the bait. He must be upset.
Ryder sipped his coffee, then stared into it. “Sams, what do you know about that new guy? Lucien?”
Why did he want to know? “He’s from Europe, he’s an art major, and his family has money.” And he’s a great kisser, but better not say that. “Oh, he’s gay.”
Ryder’s gaze flipped up. “Really? The girls sure do love him.”
“Well, who wouldn’t? The guy’s gorgeous. It’s like with Dr. Barth. All the women know he’s gay, but they still stare and drool.” Sammy’s stomach clenched. “Why, what girl’s been talking about him?”
“Maybelle. She was practically sleepwalking, she was so smitten.”
“Really?” Funny, she wasn’t that way the other night at the young witches’ dinner. She’d stared at him and been admiring but certainly not smitten. “Odd.”
“I thought so too. Could he be dating her?”
An ice pick stabbed his gut. “Hell, no!” Ryder looked stunned. Sammy took a breath. “I mean, he’s seeing me. Like I said, he’s gay.”
Ryder reached out and put a hand on top of Sammy’s. Dear gods, he did not need this confusion. Ryder stroked Sammy like he did Al, and every caress went to all those embarrassing places. “It’s okay, Sammy. I believe you. I just hope you’ll be really careful. None of us knows him at all.”
Sammy needed to pull his hand away, but he couldn’t. Ryder had touched him so few times in their three years of friendship. No way was he passing up this experience, no matter how much his chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe.
Aloysius, who had been quietly lying beside Ryder’s arm, started to purr so loud the table vibrated.
What had Ryder said? Oh yes, be careful of Lucien. Well, hells. Lucien was no man of mystery. Not compared to Ryder, now that Sammy thought of it. What did he know about Ryder, really? “Look, I’m just dating the guy, not getting married or anything.”
“Still….”
Ryder stroked his thumb back and forth on Sammy’s hand. Sammy might promise him anything if he’d keep doing that. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” Ryder’s deep green eyes gazed at him softly. “I want you to have such a great life, Samlyn. I want you to have everything that’s good and true and beautiful.”
Sammy’s heart broke. Did Ryder really say that? When Sammy knew so well that what was good and true and beautiful was sitting right in front of him.