by SJD Peterson
“Plus, whose idea was this?” Ry bobbed and weaved on his toes like a boxer. He pointed at his chest with both thumbs. “That’s right, this guy.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tikron grumbled. He tried to clamp down on the smile that threatened, but couldn’t quite pull it off.
“It was brilliant. I was brilliant. Admit it.”
“Little squirrely if you ask me.” Tikron bit down on his lip but simply couldn’t contain his humor and burst out laughing.
Intention + Action = Magic
Chapter Ten
SLOWLY coming back to consciousness, Tikron had the unsettling feeling he was being watched. He jerked upright in bed, wildly scanning the area around him. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in his room. He spotted the outline of a large figure sitting in the wingback chair in the corner.
“What the—”
“It’s about damn time you woke up,” Ry drawled and slowly went to his feet. “I’ve been waiting forever.”
“I highly doubt that. What the hell are you doing here anyway?” Tikron slumped back down against the mattress and pulled the covers up over his head. “Go away.”
“No can do, muchacho. We’ve got work to do.”
Tikron rolled over, hoping Ry would let him get another hour or two of sleep, but he should have known better. He felt the covers lift and Ry slid into bed next to him. Okay, snuggling for another hour wouldn’t be bad either. He reached over, ready to pull Ry into a hug, but Ry sat rigid, and then light filtered through the blankets.
“You’re really not going to let me go back to sleep, are you?”
“Nope.” Ry ripped the covers off Tikron, the bright light from the bedside lamp stinging his eyes.
“Dammit, Ry.” Tikron tried to re-cover his head, but Ry held tight to the comforter. “How in the hell did you get in here, anyway? I locked the door.”
“I’m a frickin’ warlock, Tikron. Man, you’re more in need of my help than I previously thought.”
“Yeah, well, you can help me with a really good friend repel spell.” Realizing the futility of trying to go back to sleep, Tikron sat up and glared at his friend.
Ry just smiled broadly, looking way too polished and awake for the asscrack of dawn. His hair was perfectly styled, and his tailored blue shirt, which matched his eyes perfectly, didn’t have a single wrinkle. “So what’s on the agenda for the day?” Ry answered his own question before giving Tikron a chance to respond. “I was thinking we could do a breakfast with ghostly servers or an enchanted lunch with… what kind of food does he like?”
“I don’t know.”
Ry waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. We could use the same ghosts as servers. Both sound great, but whichever you choose, we have to have it all wrapped up by five, preferably four.”
“Why? You have a hot date or something?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Ry said, sounding proud.
Tikron frowned at him. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
Tikron waited for Ry to elaborate, but he just sat there grinning without saying a word. “Well?”
“Well what?”
Tikron slapped Ry’s arm. “Stop being an ass. You woke me up. The least you can do is tell me who in the hell is crazy enough to go out with you.”
“You don’t know him, but since you insist. I met him at the bookstore yesterday. He’s super hot, has a nice pert butt, and he was reading a book called Magic of the Ancients. Totally my kind of guy.”
Tikron arched a brow. “Really. Normally you don’t care if he can read.”
“Pfft. Such a small detail, and it’s not because he could read, but the book in his hand. He’s looking for magic, and baby, I’m oozing with it. If everything goes as planned, magic won’t be the only thing flowing tonight.”
Tikron raised his hands over his head, stretching toward the ceiling. His back and neck popped and cracked. “You’re going off to get your rocks off instead of staying here and helping me? Dude, some friend you are.”
Ry patted Tikron’s leg. “I’m the best kind of friend. Now get your ass out of bed and let’s get busy on operation geek boy.” He slid from the bed and held out his hand.
Damn, Tikron wished he had it as easy as Ry. He envied his friend in that moment. To worry about something as simple as getting laid. However, since laying eyes on Richard, he wanted more than sex. As frightening as it was, he wanted so much more from Richard. Tikron still couldn’t explain it, but he was no longer worried about the why, only the how.
Rather than accept Ry’s offered hand, Tikron threw off the covers and went to his feet on the other side of the bed. “I’m not doing anything until I’ve pissed, washed my hands and face, and had coffee.”
“Lucky for you that I’m your best friend.”
Before stepping into the bathroom, Tikron stopped and looked at Ry over his shoulder. “And I’m sure you’re going to explain why I’m so lucky.”
“Because I already made coffee.”
“Oh yeah.” Tikron nodded and smiled. “You are a good friend, but to be the best, you’d have it poured and waiting for me when I get done.”
Ry sighed dramatically. “Good God are you a needy little bitch.”
Ry stomped out of the room, but Tikron just smiled wider. He knew coffee would be waiting when he got done taking care of his morning biz.
Bladder empty, face and hands washed, teeth brushed, Tikron walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance. Ry was sitting on a barstool while ghostly figures whirled around. Their translucent images mingled and swirled with the steaming mugs of coffee—many, many, many, mugs of steaming coffee from one end of the island to the other, others stacked on top of each other on the far counter, still others floating in the air.
Tikron leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and watched with amusement the happenings around his kitchen. Each ghost looked… looked…. Tikron tried to recall where he’d seen these images before, but it eluded him just as the ghosts flittered in and out like smoke on a windy day. It took a few more ticks of the clock but it finally hit him where he’d seen the ghosts before. He strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee.
“Glad you could join us,” Ry announced with a cocky air.
It wouldn’t last long. Tikron hid his sly grin behind his coffee mug. “I think we may have a problem.” He blew into his mug, then took a tentative sip.
Ry turned his head from side to side, taking in his illusions speculatively. “I think they are rather good. Just the right amount of transparency yet can interact with the real world.” He nodded toward Tikron. “How’s your coffee? My nobleman made it.”
“You mean Nearly Headless Nick?”
“What… who…?” Ry’s eyes went wide.
“And therein lies the problem. It’s completely unoriginal. Someone has obviously been watching way too much Harry Potter. But I will say, J.K. Rowling would be highly impressed that you brought her magic to life in the real world.” Tikron held up his coffee mug. “And this is excellent coffee.” He took another sip.
With a wave of his hand, Ry dismissed his ghostly creatures, the floating mugs settling gently down on numerous surfaces without so much as a drop spilled. Ry grumbled something indistinguishable, then picked up one of the mugs.
“What was that?”
“I said at least one of us is trying,” Ry snapped.
That drew Tikron up short—both the statement and the venom in Ry’s tone. “Whoa, wait a minute. I was just teasing you, and what the hell happened to the happy-go-lucky guy that snuck into my bedroom this morning?”
Ry huffed out an audible breath. “I’m stressed.”
“You’re always stressed. That’s why you have gray hair.”
“I what!” Ry ran his hand through his perfectly styled hair, then frowned when Tikron began to laugh. “Sometimes I really do hate you.”
Tikron walked around the island, taking his coffee
with him, and slung an arm over Ry’s shoulders. “No, you don’t, you love me.” He pecked Ry on the cheek. “And I love you for everything you’re doing for me.”
“Even if I plagiarize Harry Potter?”
“Yup, even then. Well, as long as you promise never to do it again.” Tikron took the stool next to Ry. “And now back to business. The ghostly servers were a great idea and really impressive, but I don’t think it would work with Richard. He’d just come up with some logical reason behind it. Or worse, he’d accuse me of trying to trick him with sleight of hand or silly parlor tricks. No, we have to come up with something more like the squirrel thing. Which of course was brilliant.”
“It really was, wasn’t it?” Ry puffed out his chest.
“Yup. So what are you going to do for an encore?”
Ry drank his coffee, brows knitted while he considered Tikron’s question. Tikron gulped down his own brew, then grabbed another mug. He was going to need lots of caffeine this morning. He hadn’t slept well. Spent much of the evening going over what had occurred at the park and how he was going to continue to make Richard question reality without moving too fast or scaring the bejesus out of him. Problem was, every spell Tikron considered, if he thought about it long enough, he could see how Richard would be able to come up with a reason to discredit the magic. Even after he’d fallen asleep, it had been a fitful slumber. Strange dreams of Richard, good and bad, kept interrupting his night.
Ry jumped to his feet. “I’ve got it!”
Whew, glad one of them did. “Are you going to tell me?”
Ry yanked on Tikron’s arm, pulling him from his chair. “Nope, I’m going to show you.”
Tikron allowed Ry to lead him into the living room and then pulled free. “One second.” He rushed back to the kitchen and grabbed his coffee. Great plans went better with coffee. Hell, everything was better with coffee.
WITHIN the darkness of his bedroom, gray eyes followed Richard out of his dreams. He tried swimming through the cobwebs of sleep to remember the dream, but it stayed just out of his grasp. The only thing he did know was it was an erotic dream, from the tingling sensation and hardening in his groin. He ran his hand down his length as he continued to struggle to bring forth the images. He had no problem remembering Tikron’s face, his broad shoulders, sly grin…. The man’s features were seared into his brain. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring it to the surface, and he so wanted to.
Normally he didn’t dream. The few he could remember were like his life: structured, routine, boring. He damn sure hadn’t woken from them like he had this morning. Aroused. Needy. Wanting.
Richard jerked to the shrill ring of the alarm clock. He reached over and shut it off, then sat up in bed. Time to put thoughts of Tikron and his damn sexy self out of his mind. He threw off the covers and padded to the bathroom, flipped on the light, then set the taps on the shower. As he stepped under the warm flow, he cursed himself for letting Tikron get to him. Richard hated being out of sorts, especially now. Hell, anytime it irritated the crap out of him. Schedules, numbers, solutions—that’s what he needed to be focusing on. He had a presentation on mathematical PhD dissertations to prepare for.
Damn Tikron for screwing with his head.
He washed his hair, then lathered up his hands and… the pissed-off feeling only intensified when he realized his damn erection hadn’t gone down yet. “Damn you all to hell. Get out of my head!” He looked down and grumbled, “And my body.”
He scrubbed, rinsed, and dried off quickly, refusing to give in to the demands of his body. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he could clear his head and focus on something that mattered. Silly notions of sexy men, magic, and dreams had no business being part of his life.
Once he had dressed, he walked into the living room to find Albert waiting patiently by the door. “Good morning, Tikr—ugh! I mean Albert.” This was so not a good sign. He was even calling his dog by that man’s name. He was just going to have to step up his resolve. He had a superior brain. He was the master of his universe. He was in control. He repeated the mantra while he prepared his blueberry, banana, almond, and kale smoothie and continued to do so as he took Albert out for his morning pee. The act worked well until he walked down the stairs, stepped out on the sidewalk, and encountered gray eyes.
Let the magic flow
Chapter Eleven
PALMS sweaty, pulse racing, Tikron leaned against the brick wall outside Richard’s apartment and fidgeted with a button on his shirt. He knew most people would think he was an obsessed stalker, and they’d probably be correct. The big difference was he wasn’t deranged, nor was he following Richard for anything malicious or perverse. He supposed in the eyes of the law his reasoning wouldn’t matter, but that didn’t deter Tikron. He needed Richard, and more importantly, Richard needed him. Tikron was sure of it at his core.
The clock was counting down his life, and yet extending said life was no longer the main cause of his urgency. Richard’s happiness was. The loneliness he’d witnessed in those beautiful hazel eyes shredded Tikron’s heart. He knew what it was like to be lonely, even in a room full of people. He also knew sometimes it was a choice. For years and years he’d walled off his heart. That’s not to say he didn’t love his mom and Ry; he did. But it wasn’t the same. Not at all.
The reason behind his self-imposed loneliness was understandable, at least in his mind, but what about Richard? What had caused him to make that choice? Had he been hurt, felt undeniable grief, been bullied? Whatever the reason behind it, Tikron was resolute on making Richard happy. On seeing that hint of a smile on full glorious display.
His racing pulse kicked up a notch when he spotted Richard walking through the door. He was dressed in khaki slacks, a brown sports jacket, and a matching argyle sweater, and looked good enough to eat. God, the man was so adorable. He might dress the nerd part with his thick black-rimmed glasses and muted clothes, but Tikron was 100 percent positive that beneath that conservative attire was a fun-loving, exciting, and dynamic man. He just needed to figure out a way to let that little treat of a personality come to the surface. Hopefully with what he and Ry had planned, he’d be one step closer to that goal.
Tikron approached a stunned Richard. He held out his hand. “Good morning, Richard. I was hoping I’d meet you here.”
“Wha…. What….” Richard huffed out a breath and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Mr. Amorith, your presence here is unexpected and inappropriate.”
“Mr. Amorith? Ouch,” Tikron said. He laid his hand over his heart. “It’s Tikron, and I have a perfectly innocent reason for being here.”
“And just what is that? Stalker training?” Richard asked snidely.
Tikron reached into his pocket and pulled out Albert’s collar. “I wanted to return this.”
Richard’s eyes went wide. “That’s impossible.” With a shaking hand, Richard reached out and took the collar. He studied it carefully, then repeated, “That’s impossible.”
“Nothing is truly impossible,” Tikron assured him.
“How did you get this? I just left Albert thirty seconds ago, and he was wearing this.” He met Tikron’s gaze, held it for long moments, and then his eyes narrowed. He held out the collar. “Remarkable replica.”
“I assure you it’s real. Oh, wait, I forgot, you were on your way to work. I’ll return it to Albert for you.” Tikron waved his hand and the collar disappeared.
Richard took a step back, scanning his hands critically. “How did you do that? I didn’t even feel you pull it out of my fingers.”
“It’s magic, Richard.”
“You mean trickery, sleight of hand, whatever you want to call it.”
“I call it magic, and I promise you, I’m not trying to trick you.”
Richard frowned, looking back and forth between his hands and Tikron, no doubt trying to figure the trick out.
He didn’t have to figure it out; Tikron would show him. “It wasn’t a replica and it wa
sn’t a trick. I’ll prove it to you, and then maybe you’ll trust me.” Tikron waved his hand.
“NO need—” Richard took a step and nearly fell on his face. “What the hell!”
He stood frozen, jaw nearly hitting the floor. This isn’t possible. He reached out a shaking hand and poked the wall. It felt real enough, but how? Albert lifted his head from where he rested on the couch, his red collar secure around his neck.
Richard’s knees began to shake so violently he worried he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up. He dropped his messenger bag and propped himself up against the wall. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, willing the illusion to dissipate. A couple more deep breaths and he opened his eyes. He was still standing in his apartment.
“It’s a dream. That’s it. I’m dreaming.” He was lying in his bed waiting for the alarm to pull him out of this craziness.
Any time now.
Any minute.
He tapped his foot impatiently. “Dammit, wake up!” After several ticks of the clock, the vision before him didn’t dissipate, and he glanced around then pinched himself.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his throbbing arm.
Okay, so he wasn’t dreaming. But what else could explain what happened? He checked his watch and frowned—six thirty-three. Hadn’t he left at six thirty? He frowned harder, then threw his head back and huffed out a breath. God, he was an idiot. He’d been so focused on not thinking about Tikron his brain had short-circuited and sent him on a wild ride of daydreaming.
He turned to grab his keys and wallet from the table next to the door, but they weren’t there. He patted his pockets and found his wallet in the inside pocket of his jacket and his keys in his pants pocket. Okay, so apparently I picked them up during my delusional moment. No big deal. He waved behind him. “Bye, Albert. See you after work.”
He stepped out of his apartment and sighed in relief when he didn’t find Tikron standing there waiting for him. Hopefully the same no-show would be waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He locked the dead bolt, pocketed his keys, and made his way slowly down the stairs. With each step he repeated in his head, Don’t be there. Don’t be there.
