by Raine, H. J.
Shea glanced at Lucian’s face and looked away again. “I’mnot sure you’re sorryat all.”
“You’re partially correct,” Lucian admitted, stepping closer to Shea much to the delight of the skinny man with the Ruffles and the Hispanic men at the table. He shifted to one side, not in direct line of sight, and classroom furniture squeaked on the tile while the men rearranged for a different angle. “I am quite penitent, but not about showingup here like this.”
Shea nodded and sighed, twisting the broad band of the watch on his left wrist. “You got me. Whatcha want withme?”
Lucian gathered his wits and courage, knowing he had to choose his words carefully. “You know what I want with you,” he murmured before continuing, louder for the audience. “But for now, I’ll settle with extending an invitation to a small gathering to be hosted in my home onthe fifth.”
“Why?” Shea asked bluntly. “I kicked your ass out the door, remember?”
There was a sound of genuine surprise and a low whistle from the peanut gallery. “Oh, yes,” Lucian purred at volume with no small amount of seduction. “Such pleasant foreplay certainly earned all of my considerable attention.”
“Oh, God.”
Lucian paused to smile at the dismay in Shea’s widening eyes. “I’d be remiss not to invite you to continue our conversationat mybirthdayparty.”
Shea banged the back of his head against the wall, and Lucian fought down the temptation to put a hand between skull and cement block. “Right,” Shea said. “Your birthday. Whydo youwant me at your party?”
Lucian’s pulse raced, and he waited until Shea’s masked gaze met his. After a second’s hesitation, he lightly touched Shea’s arm above the elbow. He kept his voice a dull murmur for Shea’s ears only. “Because all the people I care about and desire to have around me will be at my table, and it wouldn’t be a celebration ofmylife or anythinginit without you.”
Firm lips twisted into a frown, and suddenly Shea was twelve and trying not to cry because he was stunned silly that Lucian had stopped the fight by stepping between Shea and the oncoming bully train. It took everything Lucian had not to launch into Shea’s arms and hold himuntilfurther notice.
“Oh.” Shea’s head bowed. “Put it that way...” He levered away from the wall and stood on his own feet again. “I’ll be there. Send me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” Lucian said, retrieving his gloves and sliding his hands into them. He noted the way Shea followed the movement, saw the flicker over the snug sweater and tighter pants, and rejoiced in his choice of wardrobe when Shea’s jaw muscles flexed. “A simple party will be made quite the memorable night with your attendance, Mr. Ollivander.” Lucian threw an arch glance at the constructioncrew crowd.
“Watch your sweet ass, if he gets too drunk, man!” Cheetah’s white teeth flashed again, and Lucian hoped he didn’t imagine the threads of possession in Shea’s answeringsnarl.
“Oh, I’m quite content to let him do the watching for me in most circumstances, gentlemen,” Lucian rejoined.
Shea’s palm met his forehead in a loud smack that sent Cheetah howling. “God, Lucian. I’ll keep that in mind. Damnit.”
“Then my job here is done,” Lucian said with a forcibly bright smile. “Enjoy your day,” he called to the work crew, who raised Powerade and water bottles to him. Lucian nodded, and his hand flew to squeeze Shea’s shoulder before it consulted with his brain. Shea’s palm covered the unconscious touch, and Lucian stopped a gasp while Shea’s eyes searched Lucian’s face like theyhunted for prey.
“Until January,” Lucian said, letting go and heading outside the warmschoolinto the freezingmist.
Chapter 5
“And here I’ve been going on and on about me,” said Jin Wu with an adorable toss of jet black hair and a smile that made his dark eyes shine. “When I’ve not seenyouat the dojo inweeks.”
Lucian sipped his champagne and surreptitiously glanced out the den’s front facing window. Several of his guests had arrived and availed themselves of the open bar and the appetizers arranged on silver trays that were held aloft bythe cateringstaffwhirlingthrough the rooms of Lucian’s home. It was a quarter of seven, whendinner was supposed to begin, and he debated on telling the staff to postpone it. There was one guest in particular on whomLucian wanted to wait. Aguest for whom Lucian had dressed in form-fitting pants that looked like velvet midnight and a purple cashmere sweater that brought out his eyes. A diamond clasp held back his hair, and he toyed with his mother’s amethyst pendant that hung from his neck. One of his only memories ofhis mother was turningthree and a birthday cake, and missing his mother made him think of Mrs. Ollivander, whichmade himache for...
Lucian smiled at Jin, a friend from the private AcademySchooldays. He was a sweet, uncomplicated man, perfect for Galen Fang, owner of Green Dojo where Lucian used to train, Clark used to teach, and where Lucian attended classes when the early morning runs didn’t fulfillthe exercise quota.
“I know,”Luciansaid, lettinghis gaze rest brieflyon Galen where the broad, loud man stood near the caterer’s bar, laughing at one of Clark’s bad jokes. “I must apologize to Galen. Just busy and keeping myself occupied withthe running.”
“Training or managing?” Jin asked, sipping his water.
“A little ofboth,”Lucianadmitted.
“You work too much,” Jin said, squeezing Lucian’s elbow. Lucian managed not to flinch. “You never did learnhow to relax.”
Smiling through the gentle criticism that Jin used to show affection, he nodded. “Were the ability mine to achieve, I assure you, I’d gainit. Excuse me.”
“Sure,” Jin said, letting Lucian escape to greet Aaron and Aaron’s girlfriend, Claire. Lucian had no idea what he said to his bodyguard, other than it must have been the right thing as Claire giggled, Aaron managed an almost smile, and the two of them headed toward the dining room. Cale and Becca, Cale’s wife, met them halfway. Happy returns reached Lucian’s ears, and Lucian took some satisfaction in a wellorchestrated party. He idled in the round foyer, trying for inconspicuous and knowing he’d failed when Clark wandered by and handed Lucian another glass of alcoholto replace the emptyone Lucianheld.
“The house looks great,”Clark said.
“Decorators,” Lucian replied, staring at his milling guests without reallyseeingthem.
“Food smells amazing.”
“Caterers.”
“Youlook like dessert.”
“I’lllet Danielknow youenjoylavender.”
“God, don’t. He looks awful in pastels.” Clark sipped his beer.
“Speaking of the good professor?” Lucian said pointedly.
“Hint received, your highness. I’ll leave you to your watch.”
“How kind ofyou.”
Clark took Lucian’s empty glass, and the doorbell rang. Lucian brushed aside the hired help whose job it was to greet people for the evening, and flung open the door.
“Happy birthday, you bastard!” Chance Baar bellowed, and half of Lucian’s champagne sloshed onto the front stoop when Chance yanked Lucian into a bear hugand pounded himonthe back.
“Thank you,” Lucian said, disengaging and nearly takinga bottle ofvodka to the face.
“Brought you somethin’ to ease the slide into gettin’ fuckin’old.” Chance grinned, allwhite teeth, blond hair, and predatoryblue eyes.
“Too thoughtful.” Lucian took the bottle, and Chance stomped into the house, tracking water. He wore a plain sweater and slacks under his outerwear, and his booming voice attracted Clark, the two men shakinghands and exchanginganembrace.
“I stopped him from testing the goods on the way here,” Ryuu Fugikage said, the soft tenor conveying irritation and affection with much practice. Chance’s boy toy smirked full lips, the ruby stones in his ears and lip winking in the porch light. The expression was enoughto set Lucianonedge.
“A favor for which I’m sure I owe you,” Lucian said.
Ryuu hummed and didn�
�t even try shaking Lucian’s hand, much less any other bodily contact. “I’ll put it on your tab,” Ryuu said, passing by Lucian in a cloud of intoxicating cologne. Ryuu shrugged out of his coat and handed it to the doorman without looking at the man. Chains jangled on his jeans, polish gleamed on his nails, and the engraved collar withthe letters CB that he wore about his throat was clearly visible, navy button-down shirt half undone. “Bar?” he asked over one slim shoulder.
“Inthe den.”
“Thanks.” Ryuu sashayed away, Lucian couldn’t help but watch, and he nearly shut the door on Tim Akkard.
“Christ,” Lucian cursed, letting Tim slip inside. “I knew there were several excellent reasons I let someone else manthis post.”
“It’s all right,” Tim said, undoing his scarf. He looked like he always did since his wife passed away of cancer a year ago: tired and too thin. His brown hair was receding from his forehead, though his hazel eyes shone with Clark’s kind of keen intelligence. Lucian ached for his architect partner and for what little of the courageous, ambitious marine whom Clark had introduced to Lucianwas now left.
“CanI get yousomething?”Lucianasked.
“No,” Tim said, shaking his head. “Is Clark around?”
“Oh yes,” Lucian confirmed, gesturing at the puddles inhis foyer. “Just follow the trailofChance.”
“Okay.” Tim tried to smile. He reached into his slacks’ pocket, and he seemed much smaller than his six-three frame would suggest while he did it. “This is for you.”
Lucian accepted the smallbox tied with plain string. “Youdidn’t need to do that.”
“I know. It was Dana’s. Cameo piece from her mother. I know how you are with...”Timwaved a hand at Lucian. “She’d like youhavingit.”
“I’lltreasure it,”Lucianpromised.
“Yeah,” Tim sighed, his look forthright. “You’re good at knowingwhat matters.”
“Tim!” Clark called, rescuing Lucian from an answer and pulling Timinto a circle of smiling people in the living room, which opened off the foyer on the opposite side from the den. Lucian walked to a table nestled in the curve of the stairs leading to the second floor and added Tim’s gift to anaccumulatingpile.
“Shall I call for dinner, sir?” asked one of the caterers, pausinginhis circuit onthe wayto the kitchen.
Lucian glanced outside, hiding his longing from the boy in a stiff black uniform. The porch was clear of snow, as was the sidewalk, but fresh powder was beginning to fall. “Go ahead and start the process,” Luciansaid. “I’llbe along.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man wandered away, and Lucian swirled what was left of his champagne. A bell chimed, and Lucian heard the suggestion that everyone migrate to the dining room without really listening to the words. His better sense knew Shea would be there but be late as usual. They’d not been entirely out of touch over the last few days. Lucian knew his text messages shocked Shea, knew the man suspected a hidden agenda behind the general well-wishes for Shea to have a good day. The truth was simpler: Lucian meant every benign word he typed and hoped they would help solidify the idea in Shea’s mind that he wasn’t angry. Confused, hurt, worried, curious, and determined, yes. But not pissed. Lucian thought of Shea’s eyes, desperate and lost, and any misplaced rage vanished under waves of protective instinct.
Lucian needed Shea here tonight, and, he suspected, he hoped, that maybe that was the motivation Shea sought and understood was beneath the unusual communication. Shea probably didn’t fathom all of the reasons Lucian wanted Shea at his side, but that would be revealed in due time. If only Shea would arrive.
Minutes passed. The caterer tried to get Lucian’s attention, and Lucian’s dismissive gesture was forceful enough to make the poor guy scramble for the safety of kitchen and supervisor. Lucian entertained the notion of making his guests starve all night, and he was well into an imagined fight with Clark and Daniel over the benefits of sustenance when footfalls on the porch boards sent Lucian’s hand seeking the knob. Shea didn’t get a chance to knock or ring, fist still raised when Lucian threw the door wide and studied his friend bythe yellow glow.
Shea’s head snapped up in surprise. He slowly lowered his arm, and the other one cradled a motorcycle helmet. Shea’s dark, snug jeans were damp with snow, and his riding boots left wet tracks on the front porch. “Uh, hi,” he said, looking at Lucian, and Lucian completely lost the ability to form a coherent reply when Shea unzipped the heavy black leather jacket to show a russet v-neck sweater and a goldenrod Dieselt-shirt beneath it. His hair was mussed but looked combed, and his cheeks were flushed. Lucian resisted the temptation to slam the door behind him and spend the night on the front porch doing anythingShea would allow.
“Sorry I’mlate; snow made it harder ta stay on the road,”Shea continued, cordialand somewhat confused. ProbablybyLucian’s silence.
“You’re fine,” Lucian said and decided not to correct himself. Both meanings were true. “I was just about to be served.” Shea blinked adorably at Lucian, smile playingat the corners ofthe fullmouth, and Lucian yelled at himself internally. “Won’t you come in?” he asked, formal and with a sweeping gesture as he stood aside.
“Ah, sure.” With a duck of his head, Shea walked past Lucian and handed the minion his motorcycle helmet. Once both hands were free, he dug through the big pockets of his jacket and came out with a small package, wrapped in raw-textured paper in the all the hues ofa bonfire witha bow ofshimmeringgold ribbon. “Uhm. Right. Happybirthday.”
“A gift,” Lucian said, taking it and turning it in his hands. “When surely you know you being here is gift enough.”The doormansnorted, and Luciansilenced the impertinent boywitha glare.
Shea blushed and shrugged out of his leather jacket to hand it over. Lucian slipped a thumb under the ribbon, loving the warmth of the color, and a flash caught his eye. The Cartier watch gleamed on Shea’s left wrist, a gesture of so many things Lucian wanted to hope for that he acted without thinking. He stepped closer, took a deep breath of cologne, and grabbed Shea’s arm. He got fascinated with the fabric, and squeezed the defined musculature beneath it, touch travelingover the watchand pausingto cover it.
“You’re dismissed,” Lucian said to the doorman, and after a startled second, the man turned to the den withShea’s helmet and coat.
“Was there supposed to be food?” Shea asked when Lucian didn’t make a move toward the dining room.
“Yes,”Luciananswered. He allowed himselfa light, lingering caress over Shea’s chest and busied himself with the present so he’d stop fondling Shea. “So sorry, but didn’t wish to wait to see if it’s a flesh eating virus or sea monkeys.”
“Sea monkeys.” Shea chuckled. “Buggers always died. It’s... nothin’ fancy. Made it from scraps of my house.”
Lucian’s heart threatened to stop at the sincerity of the gesture. The paper fell away, and Lucian cradled the feather-light wooden hair clasp in one palm. A Celtic knot was carved onto the face of the circle, two holes were cut into the sides, a wooden rod in place between them. Lucian felt dizzy, and he shut his eyes and breathed, hopinglike hellthat another attack wasn’t approaching. That made no sense. Shea was here, the gift was beautiful, his house was more secure than the White House, and he was surrounded by friends who could killwiththeir bare hands.
“Lucian? Luke?Youallright?”Shea’s touchlanded as hesitant as a bird onLucian’s shoulder.
Lucian stared at the hand, waiting for his sweater to start steaming. “I’m... yes. Fine. It’s lovely.” He swallowed, breathed, and wondered at himself. Accepting a gift should not be more difficult than shooting someone, and it was a grievous flaw in the universe that made such realities possible. He made himselfmeet Shea’s gaze. “Delighted you’re here.”
“I’m... uhm... You invited me, even after...” Shea trailed off and shook his head. “It’s your birthday. You wanna just talk or jointhe resta the gang?”
Lucian bristled and kicked himself for acting like a foolish b
oy with a crush he couldn’t handle. “An excellent suggestion. I believe the party will be both the celebrationand the explanation.”He delicatelywrapped the hair clasp in its paper and set it by itself on an entry table. “Thank you for humoring me. Shall we?” Lucian asked, steppingtoward the diningroom.
“Sure.” Shea walked with Lucian, through the formal living room, past the grand piano that nobody ever touched, and into the dining room, tricked out with reds and golds. The table sat eighteen comfortably, twentywiththe spare chairs, and the elevenmembers of Lucian’s closest circle sat chatting at their appointed places. Lucian gestured for Shea to follow him to the head of the table. A seat was vacant to Lucian’s right, and Clark sat onhis left.
“So good ofyouto joinus,”Clark said.
“It was bound to happen eventually,” Lucian answered, watchingShea take his chair.
“Yes. But before we gave up the last hope of being fed,” Clark said with a mock sigh. “You’re going soft in your old age.”
“Undoubtedly following your example.” Lucian smiled at Clark without mirth.
Clark snorted. “Good to see you, Shea. Have you met myprofessor?”
Shea smiled at Daniel. “No, but I’ve heard of you. I’mShea Ollivander, sir.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I hope they didn’t take my name in vain, though if you’re calling me ‘sir’, they probablystarted inthe right direction.”
“I would never be so foolish as to take the wrong direction with you, Sir,” Clark said, the capital letter obvious to Lucian’s ears, and the staffbeganservingthe first course.
“I’m Daniel Germain,” the professor said with a sidelong glance at his lover. “Clark, don’t make me wish I gagged you, especially since I think Lucian wants youspeakingfor the evening.”
“Tempting though it always is to silence him,” Lucian said. “Clark’s mouth is preferable to his poor attempts at charades.”
Clark touched the side of his nose with his middle finger. “Funnyhow youget mysignals loud and clear.”
