by Tara Lain
“Yep. Though he doesn’t seem very happy to be with me. Where’s Ryder?”
“I saw him earlier, but he said he had something historical to do.” Chen laughed at his own joke. “Hey, you going to the dinner?”
Sammy looked around. No one nearby. “The young witches thing?”
Chen nodded.
Sammy shrugged. “I plan to go. You?”
“Yep.” He smiled. “I enjoy seeing some of the others.”
Sammy gave him a sideways look. “Any particular others?”
Chen grinned, but his olive cheeks got rosy. “No. Not in particular.”
Sammy laughed. “I have to pay attention, I think.” He took a sip. “I can’t believe it, but I did another frigging painting.”
“No shit? What was it?”
“A male angel. Most gorgeous creature I ever saw. I think it might be a guardian-angel message or something.”
“Really?” Chen screwed his mouth like he did whenever he doubted something.
“It’s my theory anyway.”
“Errrrrrrr.”
Chen stepped back from Sammy, staring at Aloysius, whose head was on the Chen side of Sammy. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know. He’s been this way since I woke up on the floor.”
They walked into their abstract painting class—Sammy’s favorite. Chen’s too, he thought. Too bad Chen’s family couldn’t see how much he loved to paint. They were all about the numbers. Sensible, but Sammy thought it made Chen sad.
“Hi, Sammy. Hi, Chen.” Tiffany, who sat beside Sammy in the studio, waved.
Sammy smiled. If he couldn’t have a boyfriend, at least it was nice to have people who liked him.
He set out his paints, ripped off a palette paper, opened his turpentine, and went to work gessoing the big canvas he’d left there the previous class. By the time Mr. Woodard, the instructor, walked in, Sammy was running an old hair dryer over the canvas to dry the acrylic base coat. When the base coat was dry, he could begin applying the oil paints. Aloysius curled under the easel, and nobody but Chen seemed to notice.
Sammy liked Mr. Woodard. The guy was a good adviser and a great teacher. Also he was a pretty decent artist himself. The man had paintings hanging in some renowned collections, but it was tough living on art alone. Teaching must help pay the bills. From all his great comments and special instruction, Sammy knew he was Mr. Woodard’s fave, which pleased him a lot. While he knew he was popular, he wasn’t really the top pick of many people or witches.
Sammy took a deep breath and felt the paint. It wasn’t a witch thing, more an artist thing. What color resonated with his being today? Turquoise. He mixed a little of the brilliant pthalo turquoise with white, grabbed a palette knife, and made a slash down the center of the canvas. Yes. A thrill like a miniorgasm shot through him at the sight of the color cutting through the white. Not that he remembered his orgasms all that well. Focus, Sammy.
He pulled his secondary colors and let his hand flow around the canvas. Brush, palette knife, and back to brush. Wild and free, that was the way he felt creating his art. So different from his prophetic paintings. Deeper and deeper he flowed into the work. The voices in the classroom dissolved into white noise as he heard his own breathing, like the paint was applied by his exhalations.
“Sorry to disturb you, class. But I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
Sammy heard Mr. Woodard’s voice on the edge of his brain. He also heard Aloysius’s low growl. He shook his head and looked around frantically. Could anyone hear the cat?
No chance. Every eye was riveted on the front of the painting studio. Wally, the human on Sammy’s left, had his mouth open. Tiffany held on to the back of her chair as if she’d fall down without the support. Maybe Sammy didn’t want to look.
“Errrrr.”
He glanced to the front and looked away fast. This was not happening. His gaze crept back to the scene at the front of the classroom. The angel was here. The painting hadn’t shown it, but he was tall, delicately thin, and graceful. Perfect in every way.
Mr. Woodard held up a hand. “Everyone, I want you to meet Lucien Eshel. He comes to us from Europe. I’ve seen his work and think he’ll fit well into this class.”
My gods. The angel was going to be in his class. This was so not fair. He not only got to drool over the new and improved Ryder, but he also had to see this guy four hours a week.
Mr. Woodard took the angel—Lucien, right?—to an available easel, and the guy opened a professional-looking paint case, all wood and metal. No tackle box for him.
Sammy glanced up and saw Chen staring at him. When Sammy caught his eye, Chen mouthed, Is that the guy?
Sammy nodded, and Chen mouthed, Holy shit! That about summed it up.
Below him, Sammy heard “Errrrrrr.”
LUCIEN GLANCED around the class as the students gathered their supplies in preparation for the end of the session. Someone popular. Yes, that was what he needed. But not just any someone, obviously. A witch. Preferably one without too much power but a lot of energy.
There were two witches in the class besides himself. The handsome Asian boy, Chen, and the tall, thin young man with the auburn hair and pretty face. “Sammy,” he heard someone call him. Many people seemed to know him. But Lucien was unconcerned with humans. What did they matter?
He would bide his time.
SAMMY WALKED up to the door of the restaurant, Aloysius wrapped firmly around his neck. He hoped Al could work his invisibility mojo on the proprietors of this place like he did on the coffee shop owners. The monthly gathering of the young witches of the community was one of his favorite events. He’d only been a part of it for a few months, since the unification, but being with other witches—other “freaks,” as he and Jimmy had called themselves before they learned the truth—was both fun and comforting.
He pushed open the door and was pulled inside by Chen, who hurried him over to a spot by the coat-check room, which was unused on this warm night. “Sammy, you know Lucien?”
Sammy sighed. “You mean the guy I’ve been trying not to stare at constantly in practically every painting class I’ve been to in the last two days? That Lucien?”
Chen glanced toward the restaurant. “Yeah, yeah. Well, he’s been asking about you.”
“What?”
“Remember, I told you he’s a witch?”
“Of course.” Chen’s revelation had been another reminder of Sammy’s wimpiness. He hadn’t been able to see for himself that Lucien was a witch, though the supernatural beauty alone should have told him.
“He’s here.”
“Here here?”
“At the table. And I’ve heard from a couple of guys that he asked about you, and he’s been digging around for information again. He just asked Estera if she knows you and if you’re as nice a guy as you seem.”
“Errrrr.”
“Shut up, Al.” Sammy swallowed. “What did she say?”
Chen grinned. “Don’t worry. She said you were an ax-murdering pain in the ass.”
“Seriously?”
Chen punched his shoulder. “She said you were great. What else would she say?” His voice got singsong. “I think he likes you.”
“What would an angel like that want with me?”
“Errrrr.”
Chen glanced at the cat. “C’mon, Sammy, you’re great. I mean, I don’t exactly notice guys that way, but I’m sure if I did, I’d notice you.”
“Thanks a bunch.”
Chen grabbed his arm. “Let’s go. Time to meet him.”
Sammy pulled back. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I’m bound to be a disappointment.” His throat went dry.
“C’mon.” Chen yanked and Sammy followed. Sweet gods. What was he doing?
Aloysius’s low growl vibrated against Sammy’s ear. He ignored it and said, “Give the guy a chance. I know you think it’s weird that I painted him, but that’s what I do. No worries.”
The gang was gathered. Abou
t twenty young witches sat around the table. There were more in the community, but it was tough to get everyone together, what with school, work, and family. Friends waved to Sam.
“Hi, Sammy.”
“Hiya, dude.”
“Hey, bro.”
“Hi, darling.”
He bumped fists and shook hands around the table, but it was tough to concentrate with that angelic face staring at him.
Estera stood up from the seat next to Lucien. “Hey, Sammy. I have to go to the little girls’. Why don’t you take my chair, and I’ll sit over there with Chen, okay?” She grinned. Sammy had to hand it to her. It was no small deal to give up a seat next to that walking dream. But he suspected she might have a thing for Chen, so maybe it wasn’t such a sacrifice. Plus Lucien could very well be gay, which was kind of exciting.
“Thanks, Estera.” Sammy circled the table and pulled out the now empty chair. He saw Estera glance over her shoulder as she retreated toward the front of the restaurant. She winked. This was embarrassing.
Unbelievably, Lucien stood as Sammy started to sit. Really? Double embarrassing. He reached out a hand. “Hello, I believe you’re Sammy. I’m Lucien.” His voice was soft, with some kind of lilting accent Sammy didn’t recognize.
Sammy shook his hand. Sweet gods, his skin was so soft Sammy could barely feel it. “Glad to meet you.”
Sammy sat down. Lucien sat too and leaned toward Sammy. “It’s amazing we haven’t met until now. We share so many classes.”
“Uh, yeah.” Come on, Sammy. You can do better than that.
“And who’s this?” Lucien reached toward Aloysius, and Sammy jerked his neck back. Could lose a hand that way.
“Uh, this is Aloysius. He’s finicky about getting touched sometimes.”
“I see. So they let you bring your cat in here?”
“He’s not a cat, he’s a familiar. He makes himself invisible with a little help from me.”
“I see. You have your own familiar.”
“Not exactly. He really belongs to the Witch Master, but for some reason he’s attached himself to me.”
“Extraordinary.” Lucien stared at Al like he was a snake instead of a cat.
“Errrrr.”
Damn. Sammy reached up and gave Aloysius’s head a little smack, then smiled at Lucien. “So you’re an art major?”
Lucien dragged his eyes from Aloysius. “Yes, though my skills are quite moderate compared to yours. I have taken the liberty of looking at your pieces after you left the studio.”
Damn, that was flattering. “Well, if Mr. Woodard says you’re good, you must be really terrific, because he knows what he’s talking about.”
The waiter came to take their orders as Estera returned and sat next to Chen. Sammy saw his friend blush. Yep, something going on there.
Lucien leaned in. “What’s good here?”
“I’m not sure. This is only the second time the group has come here, and I missed the last one. We go to a lot of different restaurants.”
Sammy ended up ordering lasagna and noticed that Lucien did the same.
Lucien smiled, displaying straight white teeth and dimples Sammy thought he could lose the tip of his tongue in. Sammy about passed out from the impact. The angel nodded at his menu. “I thought I’d follow your lead. The lasagna sounds hearty.”
Sammy nodded. “I try to eat hearty food when I’m out because I forget to eat at home, and I’m so skinny I need the calories.”
“I’m not exactly obese myself.” Lucien laughed, and the sound could have been wind chimes.
“But on you it looks good. I’m a redheaded scarecrow.”
“You are adorable. And wasn’t the scarecrow the smartest of them all?”
What in the hells should Sammy make of that statement?
“Errrrr.” Sammy glanced at Aloysius and sighed.
Maybelle Revere, who stepped up as leader whenever Jimmy and Lavender were gone, cleared her throat, and Sammy looked toward her. Anything not to have to figure out what to say to the dream-come-true beside him.
Maybelle smiled, her round face crinkling. “I know our get-togethers are mostly social, but I did want to do a couple of things tonight. First, I’d like to extend a welcome on behalf of the young, uh, community”—she looked around to be sure no strangers were listening—“to our new friend, Lucien Eshel.” Her voice sounded breathy as she said his name.
Lucien half stood, gave a little nod, and smiled. “I’m very happy to be here.” Even the guys looked awestruck. Man, he was something else.
“Yes, uh, well, I also want to mention the party that Killian and Blaine are having to celebrate their first anniversary. It will be at Killian’s family house and”—she clapped her hands—“we’re all invited. I was thinking we could all go in together to get them something great. To show our appreciation. Anyone have any suggestions?”
“What about a book?” Bilden Massery ducked when he said it. He was so shy.
Sammy shook his head. “They love books, but they have so many. It’s hard to know what they’d want.”
Maybelle stuck up a finger. “An e-reader. Bet they’d love that.”
Sammy shrugged. “You know how Killian loves gadgets. They have two or three e-readers, I think.”
As the conversation continued, Lucien leaned over to Sammy. “You seem to know the Witch Master and his spouse quite intimately.”
Sammy shook his head. “Not really. But one of my best friends is close with Killian, so I got to know him some, that’s all.”
“Is that the famous Jimmy I’ve heard about?”
Sammy looked up into Lucien’s ice-blue eyes. “Yeah.”
“I’ll look forward to meeting him and his lovely wife.”
“They’ll be traveling for a while.”
Lucien smiled.
Everybody burned out on the gift discussion, and Maybelle appointed two of the group to investigate presents. Their food arrived, and Sammy turned to his right and talked to Maybelle as he ate. His skin tingled where his arm rested close to Lucien.
When Sammy turned back for his last bite of lasagna, Lucien asked, “Would you like to share a hot fudge sundae? I’ve never had one, but I’m told you can’t be truly American without eating one.”
“Uh, sure.”
Lucien ordered, and when the waiter brought the giant dish with heaped whipped cream and two long-handled spoons, all Sammy’s friends started grinning like idiots. He didn’t know whether to slip under the table or kiss Lucien’s pink, pouty lips. But he sure knew which one he wanted to do.
Sammy must have stared at the dessert too long, because a spoonful of white-and-brown confection suddenly appeared in front of his lips. Lucien’s soft voice danced around Sammy. “Here. Be my taster and tell me if this is a really good sundae, so I will know how to judge it.”
Sammy glanced at his friends, who had, practically to a person, stopped talking and riveted their attention on the ice cream about to drip from the spoon. God’s balls. He leaned, opened his mouth, and slurped the ice cream with zero finesse or romance. Damn. Brain freeze. Try not to make a bigger fool of yourself. Breathe. Good. The pain receded, and he swirled the taste in his mouth. Wow. It might have been the best hot fudge sundae ever. Or it might have been the company. “It’s really good. Try it.”
He watched, as did everyone else, as the same spoon scooped up more ice cream and slid between the universe’s most perfect lips. Lucien’s blue eyes closed. “Oh my.”
Oh my, indeed. Sammy’s cock sprang to full attention.
“Your turn.” Again Lucien loaded the spoon and flew it toward Sammy’s mouth like a fudge airplane. It was silly but kind of cute. Sammy grinned and opened to accept the spoon.
“Is everyone enjoying themselves? Has your dinner been satisfactory?”
Sammy knew that voice. He stopped with his mouth open and looked to the side. Hells’ bells. Ryder. Sammy sat back, leaving Lucien to eat the bite of ice cream before it melted. “What are you do
ing here?” Funny, he felt like he’d been caught with his hand in a jar of spells.
Several of the young witches smiled and waved.
“Hi, Alvish.”
“Hi, Ryder.”
Ryder smiled at Sammy, but he glanced toward Lucien. “I work here. You remember, I told you I was in food service?”
Sammy eyed Ryder’s black slacks and dress shirt. “I thought you meant you served tacos at fast food.”
Ryder shook his head. “No, I’m a quality manager for the food chain that owns this place and a bunch of other restaurants.”
Chen smiled. “Hey, good for you, Ryder. That’s a cool job.”
“I get to go from restaurant to restaurant, check out the quality of the food and service, and make suggestions. It works great with my school schedule.” He walked around the table and stuck out a hand to Lucien. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ryder.”
Lucien stood and took Ryder’s hand. “I’m Lucien.”
Odd, but Sammy felt tension between them, even though they were clearly just meeting. “Lucien’s an art major.”
Ryder nodded like that was somehow an explanation for why Lucien was with Sammy. It felt strange to be here with all these people Ryder knew, and yet he hadn’t been invited. Ryder wasn’t a witch, but Sammy couldn’t exactly use that as a reason for him being left out.
Lucien sat down. Sammy glanced back and forth between the two men who had been the subjects of his prophetic paintings. His powers sure had good taste. He couldn’t imagine two more mouthwatering dudes. Lucien was ethereal, almost otherworldly in beauty. Ryder’s stronger, more masculine gorgeousness was reflected in his prominent cheekbones, carved lips, and arched brows. Of course, Ryder was straight, while Lucien appeared to bat for Sammy’s team. Didn’t matter to his cock, though. Sammy felt as if the darned thing were swinging between the two men like a dowsing rod looking for water. The saddest part was that even with Lucien as a distraction, Sammy couldn’t stop lusting after his friend. But it was time to wake up. Lucien appeared interested. Ryder never would be. Still, it hurt his heart.
Ryder seemed to drag his eyes from Lucien. “Give me an official report. How’s the food? How’s the service?”
