SAMMY SANK to the floor in front of the easel, and Aloysius came over and started licking his hand. It felt like someone had stuck a butter knife in his heart and was turning it slowly.
“What the hells just happened?”
“Merwaor.”
Sammy hung his head between his bent legs. “Why did he come here? He could have warned me at school. Why did he care for me and sleep with me? Oh gods, Al, why did he hold me?” Heat pressed behind his eyes. “I never wanted anyone else. Not even Lucien. Even if Lucien had been the most faithful boyfriend on earth, I didn’t really want him. I’ve always wanted Ryder, and that’s stupid and useless like everything. And now he’s made it worse.” Sammy collapsed on his back, holding his stomach. “Why did he do it? Why did Ryder—”
The front door flew open with a crash against the wall, and in two steps Ryder stood in the middle of the room. “Am I beautiful to you? Am I, Sammy?”
Sammy sat up. He couldn’t catch his breath. “Yes. You always have been.”
Ryder stared at Sammy, his green eyes like emerald lasers. In a big step, he cleared the space between them, reached down for Sammy, and pulled him to his feet. “Good, because I’m sick of pretending you’re not beautiful to me.” He dropped his head and covered Sammy’s mouth with his perfect lips.
Sammy’s mouth fell so far open in astonishment that Ryder’s tongue slipped right in. Does he know what he’s doing? Has he lost his friggin’ mind? Do I care? Hells, no. He wrapped his arms around Ryder’s neck and sucked that sweet tongue into his throat. No strawberries. Just Ryder deliciousness. His new favorite flavor.
Somewhere in the background, Aloysius began to purr so loud the neighbors must have heard him.
Sammy let his tongue dance with Ryder’s. The man really knew how to kiss, but the idea that it was Ryder he was kissing practically made Sammy faint. His cock stood at full attention, but he tried to keep his hips away from Ryder. Didn’t want to scare him.
Until Ryder gripped Sammy’s butt with strong hands and pulled him tight against a rigid pole in his jeans. Oh yeah, he recognized the cock he’d tried so hard not to feel last night. But now he’d gotten a full-on invitation. He raised a leg and hooked it over Ryder’s hip to get closer. Ryder grabbed his calf and pulled Sammy even tighter until the ridges of their cocks were rubbing together hard and hot. Sammy pulled his head away from the kiss. “Is this really happening?”
Ryder pressed his lips against Sammy’s ear. “Believe it. I could barely keep my cock out of your ass last night. I wanted to fuck you so bad I was hard all night.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“No, dreaming of pushing my dick inside you. Can I, Sammy? Can I?”
“How fast can we get to the bed?”
Ryder picked Sammy up. “Last night I was practicing.” He laughed. It only took a few steps to get to the bed. Ryder laid his burden gently on the straightened covers, unfastened Sammy’s fly, and dragged the jeans down his hips. Then he stopped and stared. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. Seeing your cock.”
“You saw it last night.”
“But I didn’t think I could have it then.”
Sammy’s head was going to explode. “I had no idea you wanted it. Aren’t you straight?”
Ryder grinned. “Never.”
“Then why in hell have you been drooling over every pair of tits in New York?”
“It’s complicated. Can I fuck you now and explain later? My cock hurts.”
“Mine too.” Whatever the explanation was, would he regret not knowing sooner? Hells, no. “Fuck me, Ryder.” Three words he’d previously only said in his dreams.
“Have you got supplies?”
“Top drawer.” Sammy waved at the dresser.
Ryder rummaged around and came up with some condoms and a bottle of lube. He looked at them with wide eyes, then sat on the edge of the bed. Sammy’s cock stuck up like a flagpole through the flaps of his shirttails, and Ryder eyed it and licked his lips. “Truth is, I haven’t done this a lot. Maybe I should ask if you top or bottom.”
“You said you wanted to fuck me. Do it.”
Ryder looked serious. “Are you sure you won’t be bothered by, you know, him?”
For a minute Sammy had forgotten about “you know, him.” “No. I want your light to chase his darkness.”
“You’re sure?”
Am I? He did feel damaged, but it didn’t dampen his passion to be with Ryder one iota. “Yes, I’m sure. The best way to get rid of a nightmare is with a dream come true.”
Ryder smiled. “Thank you for saying that.”
The front of Ryder’s jeans was as tented as the stiff fabric allowed. He stood up and pulled his T-shirt off over his head. Gods. The skin on Ryder’s chest glowed with a pale, almost silver tracery twining like leaves and vines around his torso. A garden of beauty.
Sammy cocked his head. “When I said light, I didn’t know I meant literally. What kind of tattoos are those?”
“They’re kind of a traditional thing in my family. Tribal, sort of.”
“Amazing. I’ve never seen that color before.”
“A regional art.” Ryder unfastened his jeans and slid them down his narrow hips. He wore black briefs, with a nice big lump in the front. He pulled them off. Wow. The vine tattoo twined around a big stiff cock that stuck up straight onto his belly. And no hair. Not a strand. His balls looked lighted from the inside. Must be my month for wildly unusual cocks. But while Lucien’s had been scary, Ryder’s was full-on beautiful. “Are you going to put that gorgeous thing inside me?”
Ryder smiled shyly. “If you want me to.”
“Man, do I ever.”
Ryder sat, then lay down on his side next to Sammy, the big decorated cock stretching up above his belly button. He tossed the supplies on the mattress and caressed Sammy’s cheek with two fingers, then leaned in and pressed their lips together. Soft, sweet.
Sammy’s cock wasn’t into sweet. He reached a hand around Ryder’s head, buried his fingers in hair like silk, and pulled Ryder hard until their mouths ground deeply into each other. Sammy pressed his tongue into Ryder’s mouth and got a low moan for his trouble.
Hot. He scooted his hips closer until his cock touched Ryder’s, like a dick kiss. Sammy pulled his hand out of Ryder’s hair, wrapped it around their two cocks, and began to pump hard.
Ryder threw his head back. “Oh my God. That feels so good.”
“Just the beginning.”
Great friction. Skin and veins rubbed.
Ryder gasped. “Whoa. Careful, or I’ll blow.”
Sammy let go and rolled over. With a touch of exotic dancer, he rose onto his knees and waggled his butt at Ryder. “Why don’t you put that thing where it will do the most good?”
Ryder’s grin was mischievous. “Deal.”
Sammy watched over his shoulder as Ryder squirted lube into his hands. It sure would be convenient if Sammy could slick his hole with a thought like real witches could, but this would have to do. Ryder extended a hand and wiped some lube on Sammy’s pucker. Sammy gasped. Gods, if he felt that way with a touch, what would happen with the real thing?
Ryder slowly slipped a finger inside and twisted it. Zing! Straight to the balls. Sweet gods, this is Ryder. He could barely believe it. More lube and another finger stretched Sammy’s hole to perfection. In and out. In and out. Ryder swiped a finger over Sammy’s gland and sent a streak of lightning up his spine. He jumped. “Enough. Give me the real thing.”
“Okay. Yes.” Ryder rose up on his knees; Sammy felt a big, blunt object at his ass. Underline the word big. Could he take that much? He felt pressure, not unpleasant, and pop, in it slipped, right past the ring of muscle in a rush. The pleasure zipped to Sammy’s head and about blacked him out—right to the happy land. And man, was it happy. Ryder’s cock stretched and expanded Sammy like it was creating a new home. Yes, home was the word. I’m finally home. He breathed out on a long sigh, and soft light filled his head.
Ryder gasped. “God. You feel great. Better than I ever imagined, and I imagined a lot.”
Sammy moaned, and Ryder took the cue. Deeply he pushed in and pulled out, sending a riot of electricity through Sammy’s balls. Sammy reached down, grabbed his cock, and started pumping it in time to Ryder’s thrusts. Ryder pushed his big cock deeper on each foray, and the light in Sammy’s head blazed brighter and brighter until the sun had left the sky and took up residence in his brain. Heat. Fire. In, in, in. Ryder might not have much experience, but he learned fast.
Sammy never wanted this to stop.
Ryder’s deep rhythm began to falter. “I’m gonna come. Too soon, but I’ve waited so long. God, Sam, it’s coming…. Oh God!” He froze over Sammy’s back. Sammy thought of the hot jets shooting into the condom in his ass from the man he’d adored for his whole college life. That’s it. Too good. He cranked his cock twice more, screamed loud enough to alert the NYPD, and squirted cum all over his sheets in pulse after pulse of pure joy.
Sammy collapsed onto the mattress, and Ryder fell onto his back. A welcome weight. He could sleep like this, with Ryder on top of him, his cock still deep inside Sammy’s body. He could live like this. He’d just made Ryder McMasters come. There must be gods after all.
Too soon Ryder rolled to the side, his softening cock pulling free. Oh well. Living in that position would have been hard to explain at the coffee shop. They both lay there, breathing hard.
Ryder murmured, “That was amazing.”
“That’s what happens when you have sex with the right gender for you.”
They breathed a little more.
Sammy rolled to his side, facing Ryder. “Will you explain why you’ve been pretending to be straight for so long?”
Ryder flopped an arm over his eyes. “I never actually said I was straight or had a girlfriend or anything.”
Sammy pushed up onto his elbow. “No. You just admired every damned pair of tits over an A cup at the university.”
The grin under Ryder’s arm looked sheepish. “I learned quick that if I admired girls’ boobs, everyone assumed I was interested in females.” He shrugged. “I actually do think their breasts are pretty.”
Sammy sat up. “But shit, Ryder. I’ve been mooning over you for years! We could have been together.”
Ryder pulled his arm away and sat up opposite Sammy, his cock soft and lying on the bed. The tattoos were less evident now that he wasn’t erect. Ryder stared at his long-fingered hands. “I know. I’m so sorry. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times.” He looked up. “It’s because of my parents. I told you they want me to come back home as soon as I graduate. When I started school, it wasn’t clear if I’d even be allowed to stay for one year, much less four. So this whole time, I’ve thought I might be leaving at the end of each semester.”
Sammy frowned. “Well, hells, uh, hell, we’re in college. I wasn’t asking you to marry me, for crap’s sake. Couldn’t we have been, like, boyfriends?”
Ryder’s green eyes got misty. “I care about you, Sam. No way I want to fuck you and leave you.”
How can I feel happy and sad at the same time? “So what changed?”
Ryder twisted his beautiful face into a scowl. “Seeing you with that asshole, I guess. I realized you weren’t always going to be unattached, and I couldn’t stand it.”
“I guess I have to thank Lucien for something.”
He shook his head. “No way.”
Sammy took a deep breath. “But you still have to leave?”
“Yes.”
“You’re an adult.”
“It’s complicated.”
Yeah. Just like Sammy’s life. Was he prepared to tell Ryder he was a witch? A lot of humans and witches got together, but it sounded like Ryder’s parents would be tricky to win over. “I know what you mean.”
Ryder leaned over and pressed his sweet lips against Sammy’s mouth. “But having you now means everything to me. I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I’m sorry I wasted all this time. But I’ll try to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”
Would he let Ryder make it up to him? Could he be happy having Ryder for the rest of the year? He grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
Ryder tackled him and hauled him down to the mattress. “We need to make up for lost time.”
Sammy laughed. “Get started.”
Al’s purring vibrated from the couch.
LUCIEN WALKED over to the window and looked out into the early morning sunlight. He pulled out his cell phone. Behind him, Maybelle was organizing something. Gods, the woman loved to tell people what to do. But it served him, so he let her do it. He dialed. It rang twice.
“Hello?” Sammy’s voice sounded inquisitive. Lucien had never shared his cell number.
“Hello, Samlyn. I was thinking perhaps I could meet you after our painting class today and take you to lunch.”
Dead silence.
“Sammy?”
“Have you lost your frigging mind? Why the hells would I want to meet you anywhere?”
Lucien stared at the phone. What’s going on? “Surely you expected me to call you.” The witch should be compliant.
“What the fuck? Do you have no idea what you’ve done?”
“None whatsoever. Sammy, I didn’t force you. Your cock was as hard as a rock.”
“That tends to happen to males when someone is rubbing it, you idiot.”
“But—”
“Look, I get that you maybe don’t understand. The fact is, in this country, no means no regardless of any other evidence. I’m not going to tell Killian.” What the fuck? Surely this sorry excuse for a witch was not taking this tone with him. “He’d be furious, and I won’t ruin your chances of fitting into this community. But stay away from me, Lucien. I don’t want to see you again. When I get this damned chain taken off, I’ll leave it at your easel in class. I’m sure it’s valuable.” He hung up.
What happened? He’d bespelled Sammy and chained him. He’d had to bolt before he could force the sex, but the witch should be putty in Lucien’s hands. Sammy should be begging to see Lucien. Was it that hellish familiar pulling Sammy away? Or someone else?
Lucien took a deep breath. He wouldn’t worry. He had many more sources of energy to increase his power. When the time came, Sammy would be there.
And getting off the chain? What is that American expression? Oh yes. Good luck with that.
SAMMY WALKED into class and immediately glanced toward Lucien’s easel. Empty. No supplies, no artist. Had he backed out of class? Because of Sammy? Good. Don’t want to have to face him.
He waved to a couple of the other students, then set up his canvas and put out his paints and brushes. The idea for a new painting had blazed in his head all morning: Ryder in the moonlight from the window, the glow of his skin lighting the room. The image seemed embedded in his cells. It pulsed in his blood, and it had to come out.
He squeezed out some paints onto his palette paper. His hands began to move. Dark, deep blue, Payne’s gray for the shadows—like the depths of the ocean. A field of darkness spread across the canvas. A darkness he could sink into.
The blue filled his mind, his vision, and the warm oil poured across his forehead. Shadows, each only a bare shade deeper than the plain of darkness. Deep, deep. Until the light, the light. First a glimmer, a shine, a glow. And then the outline of form emerging from the black. A body of light pressing against the darkness. A ray, a hope, the light.
“Good work, Sammy.”
“What?” Sammy shook his head. He waited for his vision to clear, then looked up at his teacher, who was staring at him with a small smile. “Oh, hi, Mr. Woodard.” Sammy ran a hand over his eyes, trying to clear them. Where did he go when he painted?
“You’re doing some of your finest work this year. You’re growing right before my eyes.” Mr. Woodard put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of you. This piece and your flowers last week are nothing short of brilliant.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”
“You’ve found your style—not that it won’t change many times in your career. But you have an original voice. Keep it up.”
Mr. Woodard walked away, and Sammy stared at the painting. The bare outline of a glowing form against a sea of sinuous, undulating light and dark. I can’t take credit for it or the flowers. I don’t know who painted them. Was this his style or some witchy intervention? It’s kind of scary. I lose myself—or maybe become myself. Like slipping through a black hole into a different universe. Hard to cope. Why does the guy at the other end of the black hole get to be more talented than I am? No, wait. Is that like saying I’m more talented than me? He shook his head. Gods, I say I want a power, then complain when it interferes with my art. But this style was neither the strict realism of his prophetic paintings or the wild abstraction of his usual work in class. This was something new.
Sammy reached out to add a little more dark to one shadow. The paint was dry. What the fuck?
“Hi.”
Sammy turned and the light came on. “Hi, Ryder.”
Ryder cocked his head at the painting. “That’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Sammy looked into Ryder’s bright green eyes. Ryder didn’t know that was him? Why? It was clear to Sammy. I guess it’s very abstract. Less embarrassing.
“Ready for Dr. Barth’s class?”
“Let me get my stuff.”
Aloysius leaped from his chair onto Ryder’s shoulder, and Ryder lifted one beautiful hand to scratch the feline’s chin.
Sammy clicked the tackle box closed. Ryder moved up behind him and whispered, “I can’t stop thinking about last night. My cock was half-hard all the way through the History of the Byzantine Empire. And believe me, that takes some doing.”
Sammy chuckled. “Happy to have that effect.” Happy didn’t begin to describe it. Amazed. Blown away. In bliss? He could barely believe he stood beside his boyfriend—the man of his dreams. His, at least for now.
They walked outside and down the block to the history building. When they entered the lecture hall, Chen stood up and waved. Ryder started down the steps to the row where Chen sat, and Sammy followed.
He grinned at Chen. “Hi.”
“Hi, you guys. I had to fight off six ravenous females for these seats.”
Sammy and Ryder settled in. Aloysius jumped off Ryder’s shoulder, stalked down the remaining stairs to the dais, leaped up onto the table where Killian kept his materials, seemed to nod at Killian, who was organizing some notes, and started giving himself a bath. The students, especially the girls, all giggled. Clearly Aloysius must be doing a visibility thing today.
Killian gave Al a quick pet and started the lecture. He lowered the lights enough to project some images of the Jains and symbols of their practices from his laptop.
Dr. Barth’s musical voice explained the idea of nonviolence against all living things the Jains avowed. Sammy was jotting down notes when he felt Ryder’s thigh press against his. He pressed back. Ryder’s fingers slid down by his leg and caressed. Oh man, what those hands could do.
Sammy glanced toward Chen on his right. He was busy taking notes. Did Sammy dare? He grabbed an extra notebook from his pack and slipped it down on his lap. Oooh, naughty boy. He looked at Ryder, who flicked his gaze toward Sammy’s cover-up and smiled.
Hard to take notes while holding your breath. Seconds passed before Ryder insinuated his hand under the notebook in Sammy’s lap. What felt like a knuckle began to rub gently against the bulge that had come up in Sammy’s pants. Tantalizing but not enough. Sammy pressed up with his hips, pretending he was adjusting his seating. Ryder pressed harder. Yes, better.
Back and forth, Ryder explored until he found the prominent ridge on Sammy’s cockhead and ran a finger around it. Holy crap, that feels good. The rubbing fingers moved up higher. No, not the right spot. Ryder grasped his zipper. Oh my gods. Was he…?
The zipper slipped down, and Sammy coughed to cover the noise. Ryder’s finger dug into his briefs, found the opening, and connected with bare skin. Sweeeet! So sexy he could barely breathe. Sammy wanted to hump into that hand, and he couldn’t. He peeked over at Ryder, who stared straight ahead, his eyes glassy, his mouth slightly open. In his lap, his big cock was stretching the denim to its limits.
Ryder found Sammy’s cockhead and began a slow circle. Shit. Boiling balls. The fingertip connected with his piss slit and pressed in. Sammy tried to keep his breath even. He cleared his throat to cover the moan that he couldn’t quite control.
Sammy glanced at Chen again, and his friend looked back. Sammy froze with a smile on his face; then he began to madly take notes, although he had no idea what he was writing. Ryder caressed and tantalized, and Sammy knew that precum must be spilling around it. Gods, he needed to come.
Dr. Barth asked them all to close their eyes to practice a Jain meditation. Perfect. Sammy glanced quickly toward Chen and watched his eyes close. Ryder shoved his whole hand into Sammy’s pants and gripped his cock. Oh, sweet! Sammy let his hips thrust harder, since no one was likely to see, but they could hear, and he wanted to scream as flashes of heat about tore his balls loose and sent them into outer space.
Sammy thrust up once, twice, three times. Hot cum shot out of him like a fire hose, and pleasure made him light-headed. Ryder looked at him intensely. He pulled his hand free as Sammy’s cock softened, then slowly brought one finger up and licked the sticky goo from it. Wow, that human is sexy.
Dr. Barth announced “Open your eyes” as Ryder pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his hand. Sammy shifted in his chair as if he’d been quietly meditating, zipped himself up, and stared at his paper. The name Ryder was written all the way down the page. Sammy looked over to see Ryder’s lips turned up in a soft smile, and he drew curlicues on his page. In his lap, the cock bulged just as huge as before. Man, how fast can I get him home?
The rest of Dr. Barth’s class dragged. Sammy loved his teacher and the subject, but this was an extenuating circumstance. Finally the professor gave them an assignment and set them free. Ryder slid out of the row, holding the tablet he’d been using in class in front of his erection. Just looking at the thing made Sammy’s mouth water. Sammy reached in his pocket, palmed his apartment key, and slipped it to Ryder. He got a big grin in return.
Outside, the sun was giving up and sneaking toward the horizon. Chen came out behind Sammy. “Hey, you guys going for coffee?”
Sammy shook his head. “No, I’ve got some studying.”
Ryder nodded. “Me too. See you tomorrow, though. Bye, guys.” He walked off, and Sammy knew right where he’d find him.
Chen looked surprised. “You sure? Not like you to give up caffeine.”
Sammy laughed. “True, but I need to pick up some stuff for my assignment, so I may get coffee on the way.” That wasn’t totally a lie. He didn’t like lying to Chen, but he and Ryder hadn’t talked about how to handle their relationship around others, so he didn’t want to do a full disclosure. They’d need to discuss that tonight. After Sammy got fucked.
Chen waved. “See you tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
Sammy took off at a jog. Should he stop for coffee? Hells no. He made it to his apartment in half his usual time. Sammy turned the door handle and stepped inside. “Yoo-hoo.”
“In here, having trouble not jerking off because you are the sexiest creature alive.”
Sammy laughed and started pulling off his clothes. By the time he took the few steps to get around the screen, he was hopping on one foot, yanking at his remaining tennis shoe, his pants open and his stiff cock bobbing as he hopped.
Ryder was propped up with his elbows behind him, stark naked, that huge cock stuck up like a flagpole. He stared at Sammy’s circus act. “I don’t know whether to laugh or come.”
“Let’s see if I can persuade you.” Sammy finally got the shoe off, pulled the sock, ripped off his pants and briefs, and matched Ryder’s nakedness. He dived onto the bed like an Olympic swimmer and swallowed down as much of Ryder’s cock as he could get into his throat.
“Holy shit. Warning is good.”
Sammy licked up one side and down the other, pursed his lips around the rosette head, and sucked while he pushed his tongue into the slit.
“Oh God, Sammy, oh God.” Ryder bucked his hips bronco-style.
Sammy pulled away, still pumping Ryder’s cock with his hands. “That secret jack-off in class was the most frustrating, sexiest, awe-inspiring sex I’ve ever had. Choose how you want your reward. Sucking or fucking?” Sammy held Ryder’s cock and licked it while staring at him. “Because I don’t think this thing is going to last long either way, and I want you to get maximum pleasure, baby.”
“Fuck. Let me in that ass.”
Sammy grabbed the lube bottle off the dresser, left over from their last session, and tossed it to Ryder; then he lay on his back and pulled his legs up beside his ears. He grinned and pointed. “In case you had any doubt, this is your designated target.”
Ryder chuckled as he sat up and popped open the lube. Sammy held out his hand, and Ryder squirted some into it.
Scooting on his knees, Ryder moved over to where he could grab a condom from the dresser. He ripped open the package with his teeth, pulled on the sheath, and began lubing it.
Sammy pushed lube into his hole. Yes, that felt good. He spread his hole wide with his other hand and shoved in two fingers.
Ryder pushed his hand aside. “Don’t have too much fun there, boy child. I’ve got better equipment.”
“You can say that again.” Sammy used both hands to spread his asscheeks.
Ryder pointed that delightfully dangerous weapon at the target and shoved.
“Yes!” Hot and deep in one push.
Ryder bent over Sammy and kissed his lips gently. “I’m kind of desperate here.”
“Go for it, baby. My ass has been aching for you since class. Hells, since forever.”
Staring into Sammy’s eyes, Ryder pushed his upper body into a plank and thrust his hips, pressing that cock in even deeper, right onto Sammy’s gland. Sammy’s mouth hung open. “Wow.”
“Good?”
“Yes, right there.”
Ryder closed his eyes and snapped his hips—over the prostate each time, switching on Sammy’s gland like a bolt of lightning. Streaks of white light flashed through his head with every pump. He grunted and reveled in the sound.
Ryder dropped his knees from his push-up position and held Sammy’s legs back as he thrust and thrust. “Oh yeah, close. So close.”
Ryder pressed his body down against Sammy’s, capturing his cock between them. Every thrust produced friction of the best kind.
Sammy moaned. “Don’t stop. That’s perfect.”
“No stopping. I don’t want to stop ever. Ever.”
Holy hellssss! Hot cum squirted out of Sammy’s squashed cock and rubbed into their skin as Ryder kept hammering until he froze and yelled.
Wave after wave of thrills shuddered up Sammy’s body from his cock to his head. “You’re so perfect. So perfect.”
Ryder lowered his full weight onto Sammy, letting Sammy’s legs fall outward. He pressed his soft lips to Sammy’s cheek and then his mouth. “You’re the perfect one, my darling. Perfect in every way.” Ryder rolled to the side and clasped Sammy’s hand. “I can’t imagine how I can ever live without you.”
Sammy sighed. And yet somehow Ryder would live without him. Or so it seemed.
Ryder got up for warm washcloths and bathed Sammy’s chest and his own. It was still early, but Sammy didn’t care if he ever moved again. So damned content. Well, the weight and burning heat of the angel charm on his chest stole a little of the pleasure, but right now, not much. He’d have it taken off soon.
Ryder turned off the light and curled up next to Sammy. Perfect. Perfect.
LIGHT? MORNING? Sammy opened his eyes, staring at the dresser beside his bed. Light reflected off the old wood. Not sunlight. More like moonlight. Was tonight the full moon? Oh well. He closed his eyes again.
Sammy scooted his butt backward so he could feel Ryder’s skin next to him. His new favorite way to sleep. Uh, no skin. He edged a couple of inches farther. Just cool sheets. Ryder? His eyes flew open, and he turned on his back.
Dark. Pitch-black around the window. Dead of night. But the room was filled with a soft glow. On the edge of the bed, the outline of a person glowing in the darkness like hope in the midst of despair. Holy gods, the dream. The vision Sammy had felt compelled to paint. Ryder was sitting on the bed, his body surrounded by a soft nimbus of light—exactly like the painting Sammy had done in class. Even the abstraction was duplicated by the wavering gleam of a halo. Halo? Ryder looked like an angel. A real one.
Can’t breathe. Make a sound and it might go away. Scared and in awe at the same time, he gazed as the light ebbed and flowed—an aurora borealis of Ryder. Then he heard a deep sigh. Ryder got up and moved beside the bed. Sammy clamped his eyes shut and tried to sound like he was sleeping.
The covers rustled, the mattress moved, and Ryder pressed tight against Sammy’s side. Sammy rolled over, and Ryder curled around Sammy’s butt and gradually his breath became slow and steady.
What in hells did I see? Ryder glowing in the dark? Yes, Ryder’s skin was luminous, but enough to actually produce light? Couldn’t be. The moonlight must have come in at an angle so that it shone on and reflected off Ryder’s body. I just couldn’t see the moon from my position. Yes, that made sense.
But what about the scene? He’d painted it down to the last detail. The painting in class was dry when he touched it, just like his prophetic paintings. Was that what it had been? Had he sleepwalked his way into a prophecy in class and predicted this moment when Ryder would sit beside him on the bed? Maybe he didn’t have to be asleep to paint prophecy? Well, duh. Obviously.
Just one big fucking problem with this theory. Never did he have any previous inkling of one of his prophetic paintings. No hint he was about to create one. He just woke up on the floor and found the paintings on the easel. But this painting of Ryder had been a dream. A dream that pressed at Sammy’s brain until it finally demanded an exit. It hadn’t just happened. No matter how he sliced it, Sammy had thought up this scene. Either his skill with prophecy was changing, or somehow he’d created the event he just saw.
KILLIAN SIPPED from his teacup, then sat back on the couch and leaned against Blaine.
“Good tea.”
“Yeah, it actually is pretty good.” Blaine generally preferred coffee, but when Killian made his own favorite brew in the beautiful tea service Sammy and Lucien had bought them, even the coffee lover was willing to try some Darjeeling.
Killian stared at the TV—and sighed. The home network was a favorite, since they both loved decorating, but even the design competition couldn’t keep his mind from his worries about the rumbles of unrest in Prague. He stared at the teacup. “I should invite Lucien Eshel over sometime soon and question him about the situation in his home city. He’s bound to know something. Even a young witch would have heard rumors of unhappiness, don’t you think?”
Blaine glanced up from his teacup. “That’s assuming Lucien was ever a young witch. God, the guy seems ancient, even if he only looks twenty-one.”
“Yes. I thought the same thing when we met him. He’s an odd one—and quite powerful. Although he’s well shielded, and I wonder what those shields are hiding.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“A bit, since he comes from Prague. In my communications from Jimmy and Lavender this morning, they say the coven there is very arrogant right now. They seem to be hiding something. I can’t help but think that Lucien knows what it is.”
“So have him over soon.”
“Yes.” Killian sipped. “Maybe I’ll call him tomorrow and make a date to meet him at Mother’s house. I’d rather he not come here.”
Blaine nodded. “Besides, your family home is so Witch Mastery. Guaranteed to leave any obstreperous witch shaking in his magic slippers.” He laughed. “Want some dessert with your tea?”
“Ah, you know I’ll never turn down a sweet. Especially you.” He pecked Blaine on the lips.
Blaine pulled Killian in for a deeper kiss, then sat back. “I actually had cookies in mind, but I’d rather have you any day.”
“Hey, we can have cookies too.” Killian laughed and got up from the couch. “I’ll go see what we’ve got.”
He stood. Whoa. Dizzy. He reached out a hand to steady himself.
Blaine looked up. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I got up too fast, I imagine.” He padded barefoot into the kitchen. The apartment was Blaine’s masterpiece. He’d decorated it in a wonderful combination of modern design and exquisite antiques, producing an eclectic and comfortable result they hadn’t changed much since their marriage. The kitchen was all modern.
Hmm. Cookies. He opened the built-in refrigerator and peeked in, but the room started spinning. Hells. He stood back up and took a deep breath. Could he be sick? Witches weren’t prone to many illnesses. Subsiding. Good.
Another glance in the refrigerator showed they’d eaten all the Fig Newtons. He pushed aside the cottage cheese. Aha. He discovered peanut butter brownies. Good thing they were stashed in the back, or Blaine would have finished them off days ago. Killian pulled out the package, opened it, and displayed the brownies on a plate. They looked a little like the sweets Lucien Eshel had given them at the party. Blaine loved them, but they were too pungent and spicy for Killian. They’d made his nose burn. Peanut butter’s better. He grabbed a couple of strawberries and decorated the plate, then carried the plate back into the living room. “Hey, guess what I found.”
Blaine looked over the back of the couch. “What?” The soft light from a table lamp shone on his handsome face. Handsome human face…. Blaine made all the pain and stress of being Witch Master bearable.
“Peanut butter brownies.”
“Yum. Wish we still had some of that stuff Lucien and Sammy gave us. I really liked it.”
“Most people did. It went fast after we opened it.”
Killian set the plate on the table and lay back down with his head in Blaine’s lap. His stomach felt weird, and the dizziness wasn’t quite gone.
Blaine put a hand on Killian’s forehead. “You still feeling strange?”
“A little, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” He rolled to the side and grabbed his teacup. “Nothing a cup of tea can’t fix.” After a sip, he snuggled into Blaine’s lap and pointed at the TV. “I like that girl’s room design the best. I think she’s going to win.”