“So… a way with people,” I said as I settled atop the bed, a fresh undershirt stretched comfortably across my chest.
“Yeah,” Guy smiled, spreading out widthwise beside me.
“What’d you do down there?”
“Let’s just say I worked a little magic.”
“A little?” I asked.
Guy winked.
“Seriously,” I said, rolling over onto my stomach. His gaze, set toward the beams crossing the well-decorated room, strayed toward me upon my questioning.
“You ever heard of something called ‘Glamoring?’”
“Yeah. It’s what vampires do when they’re trying to sway their influence on you.”
“The Kaldr can do the same,” Guy explained. “But unlike vampires, our influence tends to lie in seduction. Not that they don’t use it—because really, they do—but we don’t have the sheer willpower to force someone to do something for us by thought.”
“Have you ever used it on me?”
Guy frowned. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because if all it takes is a simple touch…”
“Jason,” Guy said, rolling onto his side. He made a move to touch my arm, but stopped and instead allowed his hand to fall slack between us. “I’ve never had a reason to push my influence on you.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to do it the right way—unlike others of my kind.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I could admit that, up until this point, I’d played the role of the Mary Sue just because I felt it necessary. Here I was—Jason DePella, nearly twenty-six years old and living in a ramshackle shithole of an apartment after being kicked out of school for something I didn’t do—getting hit up by some gorgeous hunk of man whom my nerdy ass would’ve never landed in a million years. Yet here we were, lying side by side—him looking at me, me at him—and there was absolutely nothing awkward about it.
Was I being complicated just for the sake of being complicated?
I’d been trying to figure that out—had been since I first set foot in Guy’s apartment and then in the short amount of time spanning our flight from Austin—yet the answer escaped me. Who knew when I’d figure that out.
All I knew was: I liked this guy. We may have met under unusual circumstances—and yeah, we may have had sex on the first date and then moved in together a few days later—but that didn’t diminish everything he’d done for me up until this point.
As I’d so horribly thought before, he could’ve left me behind.
He could’ve let me take the blame.
He could’ve let me rot in prison.
And perhaps worst of all: he could’ve let me live on the streets, if somehow I managed to escape the cruel fates previously imagined.
“Jason?” Guy asked. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, blinking, smiling as I took in his odd eyes and the ruggedly-handsome features of his face. “I’m fine.”
“Good. I was worried you might think less of me.”
“I don’t.”
I stretched my hand out over his and laced the three of our largest fingers together.
“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Guy whispered, laying down and settling his head atop his arm.
“I know,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
I laid down beside him.
His fingers flexed beneath mine.
I found mine within his.