“Auntie, that’s like saying he objected to me because I’m breathing. Everyone’s human.”
She clutched his arm, her gaze riveted to Alun’s face. “No, Davey. Not everyone.” She nodded at Alun. “And most assuredly not him.”
Disappointment washed like ice water through David’s belly. Bad enough that Alun was glowering—yes, glowering, no matter what the big doofus said—at him, dominating the room with his height and chest and alpha-hole attitude. His aunt had just made the first insensitive comment he’d ever heard from her.
No matter how controlling Alun was, he didn’t deserve that.
“Auntie.” He couldn’t keep the censure out of his tone. “It’s not fair to blame him for an accident of birth or the result of illness. He can’t help the way he looks.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Although he needs to work a little on the way he acts.”
“Don’t use that tone with me, Davey. I’m not talking about his appearance, although . . .” she peered at Alun through narrowed eyes, “I judge it to be entirely his fault.”
“Aunt Cassie.” David couldn’t help it. He spoke sharply to her, the way he’d been tempted to lash out at every past sacrifice. But Alun? No, he couldn’t let her drive Alun away. “I can’t believe you—”
“She’s right.” Alun’s voice was weary. Resigned. “On both counts.”
His aunt leaned forward, her hands resting atop the head of her cane. “Consider what you say, Alun Cynwrig. No doom can fall on me from such revelations. The same cannot be said for you.”
David stood up and propped his hands on his hips. “‘Doom’? ‘Revelations’? Have we wandered into the latest Cluster Realms adventure?”
“Davey.” She took his hand and drew him down to sit on the floor at her feet, as she’d done when he was a boy fresh out of foster care. “The world is wider than it seems, and not all of it is visible to the human eye.”
He forced himself to get down off his self-righteous high horse and back into cajoling mode, little as he wanted to. “Is this one of your new age-y woo-woo talks, Auntie? Do I need to break out the pyramid hat?”
A smile glimmered in her eyes, although her face was solemn. “This is no joke, Davey bach. All those fantasy stories you’re so fond of, they’re not so far from the truth.” She nodded at Alun. “Your Dr. Kendrick is Lord Alun Cynwrig, formerly first among y Tylwyth Teg, later a high lord of the Seelie Court from the realm of Faerie.”
“Shite,” Alun muttered.
A chill wafted through the room, lifting the hair at the base of David’s skull, but heat surged up from his belly until he felt like a kettle about to boil. He had to clamp his teeth together so he wouldn’t shriek in frustration—because seriously? This was how they’d decided to treat his distress? As a joke?
“I’m not a child anymore. You can’t distract me with tall tales or—”
“Davey, I speak the truth. Lord Cynwrig was not born of this world.”
His aunt’s tone was infused with the no-nonsense steel he recognized from his troubled youth, and his gaze darted between her and his erstwhile boss. Holy cats. She really means it. “Get out. Alun’s an elf?”
“An elf.” Alun rolled his eyes. “Goddess give me strength.”
“A . . . fairy?”
This time, Alun growled, baring his teeth. “No one calls me that and lives.”
“Well then, what?”
“He is a Sidhe warrior, cariad. A famous one at that, one of three brothers from the Welsh fae who dominated the Seelie Court after the Celtic Unification.”
“Three . . .” David’s jaw dropped. Holy cats. No wonder Mal and Gareth were so hot. Unable to sit still, he jumped to his feet. “You’re not messing with me? Magic is real? Really, really real? Like unicorns? Centaurs? Mermaids?”
She chuckled. “Don’t get carried away. There are many uncanny species, yes, but also many folk with active imaginations. Not all you’ve heard is false, but not all you’ve heard is true.”
“I don’t care.” Hugging himself, he bounced on his toes. “Even a little of it is more than I’d ever hoped—” He stilled, squinting at Alun. “Is that why you didn’t want me to work for you? Because I’m not like you? Not a supernatural demigod?”
Alun snorted. “Hardly godlike, demi or otherwise.”
Aunt Cassie squeezed David’s hand. “I suspect his clients are all members of the supe community.”
“‘Supe’?”
“Supernatural.”
“You mean they’re here? In Portland?”
Her mouth quirked. “They’re everywhere. But it is in their best interests to remain . . . discreet.”
“Wait. How exactly do you know all this?”
She twinkled at him. “The woo-woo shit is more useful than you’ve ever given me credit for.” She held up a finger. “But just as not all things are false, not all things are good.”
“Sure. I get it. Still. So. Freaking. Cool.” He glanced at Alun. “But you said Alun— I mean Dr. Kendrick—”
“Alun,” he said. “To you, I am Alun.”
David smiled, warmth spreading through his chest. “Alun. Why is your appearance your own fault?”
He hesitated, and David’s stomach plummeted. He still doesn’t trust me.
“Go ahead, Lord Cynwrig. He’s aware of the wider world through no agency of yours. You’re free to share.”
David held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You mean as long as someone else lets Hello Kitty out of the bag, everybody can spill?”
Alun shrugged. “More or less.”
“So your face . . . Do you look this way because of this Tylwyth Teg thing you are?”
“Were. I’m Sidhe now. Technically. No, I was . . . cursed.”
“It could be worse, I suppose. At least you’re not a vampire or something.”
“No. That would be Kristof.”
“Shut up. Vampires are real?”
Alun nodded.
“Werewolves?”
“Vanessa.”
“Your office manager is a werewolf. So that means . . .” David dropped onto the sofa. “And little Benjy? Surely he’s not a vampire.”
“Dragon shifter.”
His mouth dropped open. Dragons? Seriously? How über-freaking-cool was that? “What about that poser guy? Jackson. What’s he? Demon? Troll? Were-jackal?”
“Worse.” Alun’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Lawyer.”
David gulped. “Now that . . . is scary.”
Alun braced himself for a barrage of questions—and judging by the way David stalked toward him, dodging the more personal ones would be challenging. David placed a hand on Alun’s arm.
“So, what do you—”
“Davey.” Cassie’s voice wobbled, and she drooped over her cane.
He closed his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath before hurrying to her side. “Auntie, you’ve overdone it again. The doctor warned you about too much exertion.”
“Bah. I’m fine.” Her white-knuckled grip on the cane belied the words.
“Come along, Madame Stubborn. You need to rest. Do you need me to carry you to the sun porch?”
Perhaps years of exposure to her had inured David to the full force of the druid glare, because shite. The look she directed at him would have frozen any ten Sidhe in their tracks. David only chuckled and helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist.
He gave Alun the stink-eye over her head. “We’re not done with this conversation Dr. Ken— Alun. There’s lots more I want to know. About this curse, for one thing.”
Alun sighed and nodded, but Cassie rapped David’s wrist with her knuckles. “Davey. Curses are not taken lightly, nor are they easy to discuss. Perhaps you should grant Dr. Kendrick some privacy.”
“Privacy-schmivacy. Secrets are a deal breaker.” He escorted her across the room, toward a sunny, screened-in porch. “That goes for you too, little missy. Full disclosure.”
Secrets. He had too many to count—althoug
h thanks to David’s druid aunt, he had fewer of them than an hour ago. But what could he afford to share? Not his curse—the truth of it could send David running, and Alun wouldn’t blame him.
Alun stood in the middle of the room, shoulders back, chin up, as if he were awaiting the Queen’s own sentence, while David settled his aunt onto a chaise and spread a bright coverlet over her legs. Share enough to keep him, but not too much.
After fussing with his aunt’s blanket for several minutes, David returned, pausing just inside the arch, his expression somber. Goddess, he was beautiful. Too beautiful for you.
“So.” Alun’s voice came out rusty. He cleared his throat. “You’ll return to the office, then.”
David tilted his head, peering up at Alun from under his thatch of shiny hair. The moment drew out, David making no comment, and Alun’s palms began to sweat.
“Are you telling me or asking me?”
“I—” Alun swallowed the rest of his retort. If David came back to work, but not to Alun’s arms, would it be worse than not having him near at all? Alun wasn’t sure. “I hope you would choose to return.”
“Why?”
Alun scowled, his brow ridges shading his eyes from the bright sunlight. “I told you.”
“No. You asked me why I left. Now I’m asking you why you want me back.”
“Because I need . . .”
David made a let’s-get-on-with-it motion with his hand. “Yes?”
“Your help?”
“Nice try.” David took a step closer. “Is closet sex in the future?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
Alun retreated, blinking his burning eyes. Of course. Why would David, so perfectly beautiful, as bright as the midsummer sun, want to cower in the shadows with Alun? “I’m sorry. Never mind.”
“Not so fast, Dr. Gloom. I’ve never been in the closet, and I’m not starting now, not even for you. Are you ashamed of me?”
“What? No. But—” He gestured to his face. “You can do better.”
David snorted. “Uh-huh. Because I’m so good at that.”
“David. You must understand. To draw attention to myself is to put the supe communities in danger. I must remain as inconspicuous as possible, and if I put myself on display by going out in public, that becomes impossible.”
David’s expression turned troubled. “So you’re saying we can never go anywhere together?”
Alun heaved a sigh. “Sadly, no.”
“We can’t exactly hang out here. Dang it.” He bit his lip, glancing at the sun porch, where Cassie’s head scarf was visible over the back of her chaise. “I wish I could have my own apartment, someplace we could be alone, but— What about your place? I could make dinner for you. Or, you know, we could do . . .” he waggled his eyebrows “. . . other things.”
For a moment, at the idea of David in his home and—please the Goddess—in his bed, Alun’s heart—and his cock—lifted.
Except . . . human. Alun ground his teeth together. When he’d moved into his flat with all his distinctly non-earthly possessions, he’d had it bespelled against human incursions by a witch’s collective for whom he’d done a sensitivity retreat. The charm was intended to protect the Secrecy Pact—it wasn’t nuanced enough to admit a human who already knew all the secrets.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”
“Why?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“No kidding,” David muttered. “But there must be somewhere you’re willing to go with me. Someplace other than the copy closet.”
Shite. If Alun wanted a real chance with David, he’d have to come up with some solution. But in the meantime . . .
He leaned forward and murmured into David’s ear, “What do you wager that I can make the closet worth your while, at least in the short term?”
David’s breath hitched. “What do I get if I win?”
“What makes you think I’ll allow that?” David moaned as Alun drew back, grinning. “Can I expect you at the office in time for my first appointment?”
“Is that a challenge? What do you bet I get there before you?”
Finally being allowed full access to the client records was awesome. Whenever Alun had a break, David bopped into his office with a new list of questions about supes. And Alun answered them. Every freaking one—and some of them were pretty far out on the freaky scale too—but it was such a rush not to be so stinking clueless anymore. For the first time in any job ever, he felt like part of the team.
Even so, it was more than a week—including a freaking long, boring, lonely weekend—before Alun strode past David’s desk after the last client of the day with a terse remark about inventorying the office supplies.
Sproing. David’s brain whited out and his briefs got several orders of magnitude more binding. He blinked stupidly at his monitor for a full thirty seconds, until he heard the snick of the closet latch.
He hurriedly put the phones on night answer and stumbled down the hall in Alun’s wake, his heart beating in a dance more awkward than any move he’d ever laid down in a club. When he opened the door, darkness greeted him. He reached for the light switch.
“No.” Alun’s voice rumbled like the promise of thunder, and a shiver chased down David’s spine, lifting his already interested cock to attention.
With a whisper of movement, the door shut behind him, leaving the darkness complete except for the blinking green LED lights on the printer. Silent except for the muted hum of the sleeping copier, the rasp of Alun’s breath, and the staccato patter of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Alun’s hands on David’s shoulders drew him forward, turning him gently until the warmth of his massive chest pressed against David’s back, the hard length of his cock resting in the cleft of David’s ass.
Warmth ghosted across his neck, lifting the hair on his nape, and then Alun kissed him there, at the top of his spine, just above his collar. David sucked in a desperate breath, blinking in the cocoon of darkness.
“I’ve watched you all day.” Alun spoke against his neck, his lips so soft, his voice a dark, suggestive rasp. “Do you know that when you answer the phone, you tilt your head and your hair lifts, so I can see this spot right here.” Alun kissed the skin behind David’s right ear, tongue teasing the post of his earring.
“Alun,” David moaned. “Please. Let me touch you.”
“No.”
“Then keep talking to me. I love your voice. From the first time I heard it, doing transcription for you. The way you said ‘Twenty-nine-year-old male presents with—’”
“David.” His chuckle vibrated through David’s entire body. “Nobody gets turned on by chart notes.”
“It wasn’t what you said. It was how you said it. Your tone. Like beat poetry recited by really kinky angels.”
“I’ll remember that. If I should see you squirming a bit as you type, with a naughty tilt to this beautiful mouth.” Alun traced the line of David’s top lip, and David captured that teasing finger, sucked on it until Alun growled deep in his throat.
David couldn’t stand it another second. He’d never been a passive lover, and he wasn’t about to start now. He released Alun’s finger with a decisive pop, then ducked away from his grasp.
“What are you doing?” Alun’s voice held an undertone of laughter that David had never heard before, and his cock got even harder.
“Leveling the playing field.” He lurched away, bumping his hip bone against the copier and hitting something with his elbow that gave way in a bright metallic clatter.
“What was that?”
“I think it was paper clips. Never mind.”
“You are a force of nature.” A smile in his voice. David wanted to see that smile. Feel it under his lips.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me. Usually they call me a vortex of disaster.” Ah. There. He ran his hands up the crisp cotton of Alun’s shirt until he found the knot of his ne
cktie and yanked, bringing Alun’s head within reach. “But for you, I’ll try to keep the near-death experiences to a minimum.”
“Do your worst. I’m not afraid.”
He lifted a trembling hand and stroked Alun’s cheek. Despite the distorted bone structure, his skin was amazingly soft. “No stubble. How does that work?”
“High fae are all beardless.”
“But Mal has scruff. What—”
“Fae glamourie, an illusion. Our only hair is on our heads and our . . . nethers.”
“Really? Can’t wait to see that.” David pressed his parted lips against Alun’s mouth, and there it was. The smile. His knees tried to buckle and his breath caught, but Alun breathed for him, kissing him with a hunger David had only dreamed of.
David pulled back and tried to remember how his lungs worked while Alun scattered soft-as-air kisses across his cheek, his temple, the slope of his stupid diagonal eyebrow.
Skin. He needed more skin. If Alun’s lips felt that good, imagine what the rest of him would feel like, naked and hot and hard against David.
He fumbled with the knot of Alun’s tie. “Don’t strangle me, Dafydd. Things are just getting interesting.”
“What did you call me?” Ha! Tie undone. David dropped it on the floor where it could commune with the paper clips.
“Dafydd,” Alun said against David’s jaw. “The Welsh version of your name.” He nibbled along David’s jaw until he returned to his starting place under David’s ear. David had to steady himself by holding on to Alun’s shoulders with both hands and a prayer for strength. “If you don’t like it—”
“No. I mean, yes, I like it.” David wrestled with the buttons on Alun’s shirt. It had been so long since he’d undressed another man, and dealing with the placket backward was almost more than his sex-obsessed brain could handle. “It’s actually my real name, but . . .” Success! David pushed the shirt off Alun’s shoulders and down his arms, where it got stuck on his wrists. Shoot. He’d forgotten about the cuffs.
Cutie and the Beast Page 10
