Wolfsbane: An Infinite Arcana Novella (Werewolves of Boston Book 1)

by SJ Himes

  That wasn’t a question, but Rael nodded anyway. “I was thinking maybe next semester at college?”

  Angel shook his head. “College programs are built around students who already have the basics down, with experience in using their magics. Classes in college for practitioners are geared toward teaching students how to use their magic to assist in whatever their fields will be after graduation, all depending on their majors. You’ve already aged out of the state-funded programs for low income practitioner families, too. Having an adult breakout in both ability and affinity at the same time is rare enough that there’s no coverage for training.”

  “I’m screwed, then?” Rael drooped. He was afraid Harvard wouldn’t take him once they learned he was untrained. His scholarship didn’t cover magic lessons.

  Angel stared at him for a long moment. “I mentioned earlier what my job is, do you remember?”

  Rael did not. All he really knew was that Angel Salvatore defeated the Macavoys in the Blood Wars and a bunch of people died. “You’re rich as fuck, everyone knows the Salvatores are loaded. You have a job?”

  Angel snorted. “Even rich fucks get bored. I’m a high-magics tutor. I train youngsters once they graduate from the magic academies or need training that their families can’t provide. Usually my students come to me already trained in the fundamentals and I teach them the finer details, the rarer magics.”

  “I bet you charge a shit ton, too. I’m on a full-ride scholarship. I can’t afford you.”

  “Pro bono.” Angel declared, leaning forward. “I trained my little brother from the age of thirteen on. I’ve never taught a student from scratch before, but my teaching partner has, and Dame Fontaine is the best technical instructor I’ve ever met. Between the two of us, we’ll have you surpassing your peers in no time.”

  “I…” Hope welled. “What about my classes?”

  “We can work your sessions around your class schedule. Fall semester starts in five weeks. If you put the effort in, I can get you in control enough that you won’t be a danger to yourself or others by the time classes start.” Angel paused again. “You’re a sorcerer, Rael. One day something may happen, and you’ll reach instinctively for power to protect yourself, and you might reach for the veil. If that happens, it can kill you in moments if you don’t know what to do. Or you’ll kill someone else.”

  It felt like he was doused in ice water. He knew next to nothing about magic, but he knew what the veil was, learned as much from his History of Magic classes in high school. Some magical barrier all living magic fell into once it outgrew this plane of existence—and it held all magical energy ever, from the dawn of time. The blood drained from his head and he got dizzy.

  “Scared is good, Rael. Scared means you’ll think before you act. It’ll keep you cautious until you have control. Look at me,” Angel ordered, and Rael managed to drag his eyes up and meet Angel’s gaze head on. “I will teach you for free. All I ask for is diligence and an earnest effort to listen and learn. Will you let me help you?”

  Rael nodded, thinking he better or his life could utterly collapse around his ears. “Yes, thank you.”

  Angel didn’t say anything, just reached into a pocket, pulled out his wallet, and then leaned forward, giving Rael a card with shiny ink printed on thick, expensive card stock that gave Angel’s name, a phone number, and an address in Beacon Hill.

  “That number is my cell, and the address is for my studio. Fourth floor above the University Bookstore. I got your number from the police report. I’ll call you after the full moon and we can discuss a training schedule. Call me if you need help, for any reason, before then.” Angel gave him a reassuring smile and then stood, prompting Rael to do the same. Angel held out his hand again, and when Rael took it, he felt a surge of something travel between their clasped hands. Angel tilted his head and hummed softly, as if listening to something only he could hear. “I wouldn’t leave if I thought your magic was an immediate danger—I think if you can avoid any life-threatening experiences in the next week or so, you’ll be alright until I can fit you in.” Angel paused, and his eyes went unfocused for a second before snapping back into focus. “Your affinity is active, too. Want to know what it is?”

  “I…” He took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”

  “Earth.”

  Rael grinned wide. “Wicked cool.”

  Chapter 8

  “Angelus Salvatore? The Necromancer of Boston?” Jameson asked incredulously for the millionth time over the picked-clean wrappers from their late lunch.

  “Yup,” Rael said, again, tapping the card from the necromancer in question where it rested on the table between them. Jameson picked it up and examined the card, even going so far as to sniff it.

  “Wow,” Jameson pulled the card away from his nose. “Vampire, a scaled creature, maybe a lizard, and more magic than I’ve ever encountered. I had no idea death magic had a scent.”

  “I can smell ozone and something like stones, a hint of blood. What’s the scaly thing?”

  “No idea, but I really don’t want to find out.” Jameson gathered up the trash from the table and threw it away in the garbage under the sink. He leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms, and Rael was distracted by the way the fabric of his shirt stretched over thick muscles. “Are you going to take him up on his offer?”

  Rael pointed to the counter by the door. “Mom left the list of resources from the doctor for magical instructors, and I googled all the programs. I can’t afford to pay anyone for even basic classes, and Salvatore is so out of reach he isn’t even listed on the resource sheet. I even called a few of those numbers and asked, and when I mentioned Salvatore every single person acted like I won the lottery. I don’t think turning him down is smart.”

  Jameson nodded, lips tightening like he was trying not to say something.

  “What?”

  Jameson let out a hard sigh. “I could help you pay for lessons if you don’t want to go to Salvatore. Dangerous shit happens around that family a lot. I don’t want you hurt.”

  “A werewolf tried to rip my head off a couple days ago, and I hadn’t even met Salvatore yet. I don’t think I’d be in any more danger as his student. I’d be able to defend myself without collapsing or destroying stuff.” He was too mature to roll his eyes, but he wanted to. “Plenty of practitioners are also doctors. Dr. Cranston is! I’m just starting a lot later in my training. Anyways, I get the impression Angel is the best at what he does. I want to be the best, too.”

  “What about Harvard? Classes are going to be brutal.”

  “He’s willing to help me around my classes,” Rael replied, and he shook his head when Jameson looked like he was going to ask another question. “I really want him to teach me.”

  Jameson shut his mouth, then rubbed his face. “Sorry. It’s your choice. I’m just worried, and tense after my meeting with Bertram. I shouldn’t be projecting my bad mood.”

  “Do you really think it’s one of the Lauders?” Rael stood and went to stand in front of Jameson, who reached out and pulled them together, and Rael flushed happily when strong arms wrapped around his waist. He slid his hands up Jameson’s chest, reveling in the warm, hard muscles under his fingers.

  “Abigail hates you, Scylla, and me. I’m certain it’s either the brother or her father who tried to kill you. I’ll be able to parse the scents better in person at the pack run.”

  Rael slid his hands around the back of Jameson’s neck, playing with the soft brown hair at the nape. Jameson smiled down at him, leaning down, and nosed along Rael’s jawline to his neck, scenting and breathing deep, soft lips leaving shivers along his skin. He gasped and pushed into their embrace.

  Rael nuzzled into Jameson’s shoulder, breathing in, and his head swam from the delicious scents. Soap, cotton, a gentle hint of leather, and wolf. A strong wolf. A low growl echoed up from his throat and his fangs grew out from his jaws; he nipped along Jameson’s collarbone, cloth rending a tiny bit as he went. Rael leaned in
to Jameson hard, and a soft chuckle broke him out of his scent-induced daze.

  Golden eyes full of heat made his belly tremble. He licked at his dry lips, all but panting, and fingers like steel gripped his chin and held him still, even as he wanted to crawl up Jameson’s body and devour him. He whined, needing, wanting, and Jameson holding him immobile was enough to make his human mind devolve into an incoherent, needy, howling creature.

  Jameson pressed a soft kiss to his lips, brief and teasing. Rael growled, tugging and yanking on Jameson’s shoulders. He wanted skin and hot flesh under his mouth, his hands.

  “Rael!”

  He blinked and shook his head, arousal easing back. Jameson was a mess, hair and clothes askew from Rael’s hands. He blushed and looked down. “Hey now, none of that,” Jameson put a finger under his chin and lifted Rael’s head so they could look at each other. “I want nothing more than to carry you to bed and spend days exploring each other, but I also want to get to know you, and for you to know me. I want this courtship to work.”

  “No sex?” Rael whined, and hated how young and needy he sounded.

  Jameson cupped his face with his big, warm hands and Rael leaned into the touch. “Yes, to sex, just maybe not the same week you agreed to the courtship. I don’t think we have any trouble with chemistry. Let’s see if our lives are compatible first. How does that sound to you?”

  Rael slowly pulled back from Jameson and went about straightening his own clothes, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. I’ll try not to spontaneously combust. How are we going to determine if our lives are compatible?”

  “Well, I was thinking some dates, long conversations, a few stolen kisses here and there,” Jameson gave him another quick kiss and Rael couldn’t stop the goofy smile on his face if he tried. “How about I take you to work tonight and pick you up? I have to get to the office for a few hours, but I’ll be back before you need to go to work.”

  Taking the opportunity that offer provided, Rael had another idea. “Since I have no idea what you do or where your company is, can I tag along? If that’s okay.”

  “You want to see my company?” Jameson appeared to be both surprised and pleased.

  “If you’re serious about mating with me, I think I kinda need to know what you do?” Rael bit his lip. “Make sense? I’m sorry I don’t know what you do, I never wanted to ask and seem like an idiot for not knowing or come across as a stalker or…” A kiss pressed firmly to his lips interrupted his ramble.

  Jameson pulled back and grinned. “I would love for you to come and see the company.”

  Jameson was nervous, and he hoped Rael would find his work interesting, and not horribly boring. Jameson had tried dating a few times, outside the pack, and every time the person he was dating found Jameson’s business to be dull and boring, a couple even pressuring him to leave the daily running of it to someone else so he could spend more time with them. He wasn’t averse to delegating, but simply being a hands-off owner and wasting his degrees was something he wasn’t interested in doing.

  Hand in hand, he led Rael into the lobby of Moon-Called Consulting. Half of his employees were pack members from the Southside Pack, but the rest were a variety of mundane humans, practitioners, and other supernatural species. Jameson took a deep breath and gestured to the reception desk, where the company’s logo of a silver full moon coming out from behind cloud cover with MCC etched into the moon’s surface hung on the wall.

  “Moon-Called Consulting is a company geared toward helping supernatural charities and non-profits run effectively, efficiently, and with transparency. We have marketing and advertising specialists, fundraising campaign managers, networking and merchandising analysts and support staffing, and social media managers and specialists. Next up, I’m working on expanding the accounting division of MCC so that we can help start-up non-profits until they get big enough to have their own accounting departments. Right now, we have nearly a dozen major account clients, and if we get any more, I’m thinking about expanding the company.”

  Phones rang quietly within the inner reaches of the building, murmurs of people talking, the rustle of feet moving over carpets and hardwood floors—the bustle of a busy company, and the overall hum of contented employees. One benefit to having heightened senses was he could generally tell if his people were unhappy, and he made sure to pay them all well, with decent hours, and a benefits package that put comparable positions at other companies to shame.

  Rael gazed at the emblem hanging over the wall, and his brilliant smile full of incredulity and something like pride warmed Jameson’s chest. Rael turned to him and threw his arms around Jameson’s neck and hugged him tightly before pulling back and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re amazing and awesome and I had no idea you were doing something so…so…so…”

  “Boring?” Jameson supplied with a barely concealed flinch.

  “No.” Rael glared at him. “Fucking cool as hell and important.”

  He stared at Rael for a long moment, not at all prepared for the vehemence from the younger man. “Really? The last person I dated thought this was all boring and expected me to be a billionaire who could spend all day spoiling them rotten while someone else ran the business.”

  “I’m glad your taste in boyfriends has improved.” Rael grinned. “Now, show me around and introduce me to people.”

  Jameson knew how he felt about Rael. Falling in love for him had been a quiet, easy glide into adoration for Rael’s stubbornness, pride, and determination to survive in a hostile pack environment. Rael cared about other people, and his drive to become a doctor was something Jameson admired in someone who would live for centuries—Rael knew what he wanted, worked hard for it, and got himself into Harvard on his own merits. What wasn’t to love? His heart was already there, but seeing Rael’s earnest support and admiration for him and the company that was Jameson’s own dream—he tumbled even deeper and marveled at the depths love could go. He didn’t know it was possible to love another person so damn much.

  Jameson leaned down and hugged Rael, pressing his face into Rael’s neck, breathing him in. Rael hugged him back, and he vowed to make sure this courtship worked. Taking Rael and his support for granted was never going to happen.

  Rael was sprawled out on his back on the long leather couch in Jameson’s office, and Jameson was finding it impossible to focus for long on anything else except the beautiful young man in his space. His office door was open, but the couch was out of sight from anyone walking by, and Jameson was selfishly glad, in a primitive manner he was finding hard to banish, that no one else got to see Rael looking so relaxed and happy. Rael was scrolling on his phone idly, though he didn’t appear to be bored—he seemed happy to be present and not demanding of Jameson’s attention. Rael had greeted his staff and employees warmly and with a quiet respect that left Jameson in awe and thinking that he didn’t know Rael as well as he thought. Rael was indeed young, but mature where it mattered.

  He sat at his desk, the windows overlooking the street to the right, the door to rest of the main floor to his left, and Rael an unobscured masterpiece of sexiness and eye-catching beauty in the middle. He stifled a lovesick sigh before it escaped. The pile of contracts sitting in front of him needed to be thoroughly examined before he gave his final approval. With one last, thorough glance, Jameson forced himself to pay attention to the paperwork in front of him and not the sexy man he wanted to claim right then and there.

  An hour passed in quiet companionship, and Jameson set aside the last contract with his notes written in the margins and leaned back in his chair, smiling when he saw that Rael was asleep. His phone was resting on his chest, hands relaxed, chest rising in slow, deep breaths, face free of stress and worry. Rael no longer moved as if he were in pain, the blow to his ribs having healed swiftly. A practitioner he might now be, but Rael was still blessed with a werewolf’s rapid healing and resiliency.

  Jameson quietly stood and gathered up the contracts, checking the time. The office
closed at five every evening, and he had about an hour to go. Rael slept undisturbed, and Jameson tread carefully out the door and went to his executive assistant’s desk.

  “Jameson, all set to go?” Miles asked, hands already reaching for the contracts. “I’ll get these down to Legal before they close up for the day.”

  “Please let them know that tomorrow is early enough. No need to stay late.” Miles merely yanked the contracts out of his hands and headed for the elevators, full of energy and casting off sparkles of faerie light as he went. The sparks were bright yellow and green, and a hint of mint hovered in the air in his wake. Miles was fae, a brownie, though very young for his species, only forty years old, and yet he kept Jameson in line and on schedule with the skillset of a thousand-year-old taskmaster. Miles loved nothing more than taking charge and making things run smoothly, and Jameson suspected it was less a species trait and entirely a Miles thing.

  “Goodnight!” Jameson called after his assistant, who waved a hand in response before disappearing around the corner.

  The workday was winding down, and the office was growing steadily quieter as people tidied up and left. Jameson went back to his office and checked to make sure he had the afternoon of the pack run cleared, and then shut down his laptop and locked his desk. Rael slept on, and Jameson hated to wake him, but he figured Rael would appreciate getting some food in him before he started his shift.

  Kneeling next to the couch, Jameson ran a hand through Rael’s dark silky hair. Rael sighed and rolled toward Jameson, face burrowing into the cushion. Recovered from his injuries and overexertion he may be, but he was still stressed out and facing difficulties on too many fronts—pack, personal life, his uncertain future. He wanted to let Rael sleep, but Rael would be upset if he was late for work. The temptation to support Rael financially was strong, but Rael worked hard for everything he had, and Jameson did not want to step on Rael’s pride by offering. Maybe if the courtship was successful and they mated, Rael would be more inclined to accept help. Jameson could hope.