by Zoe Perdita
Felan’s body, his groin in particular, begged him to enjoy Ari again. But if he admitted it Ari might kick him out and never let him back in. And he couldn't have that, not now that he'd made it this far. Made this much progress.
Ari actually spoke to him now, for one.
So he waited until Ari fished out another bottle of alcohol, gin this time, and stalked into one of his back rooms. “Come on. Work to do, dog.”
Felan followed, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. It was a particular sensation that always happened in this old house, and he wasn’t sure if it was a draft or something else. But it felt like eyes bored into his skull as he moved down the hallway, the wallpaper more garish than he would’ve ever chosen.
Ari too, he’d guess, but it was antique and one of a kind, so Ari kept it. It was a family history thing, and Felan understood that well enough.
The front rooms were all decorated like that. As if they were part of a museum and not a real place someone lived. The back rooms, however, the ones stacked with dried herbs and crates that Ari hadn’t yet unpacked in his store, those were really his. The front of the house was just a way for Ari to connect to his past, or that’s how Felan always saw it.
They went into the room with the crates now, and Ari tossed him the crowbar and pointed. “I need those open, and you have the strength to do it.”
Felan’s fist curled around the crowbar, and he moved toward Ari, leaning as close as he dared before the healer took a step back. “I’m sure you can open these on your own. Why don’t you admit you like having me around?”
Ari’s eyes narrowed. “Because I don’t. Generally. And if you’re going to annoy me, you might as well be useful while you do it.”
Maybe he pushed too far for one day, but he heard the increase in Ari’s heartbeat. Felt the heat of his breath as it brushed over his slightly parted lips. He was tense, yes, but that didn’t automatically mean Ari would back off. He hadn’t yet, after all.
Felan smirked. “Not annoy you. I’d never dream of doing that. But I did buy you breakfast and dinner, and now I’m going to open all these crates just for you. I wouldn’t mind getting something out of it.”
“Oh god. Are you going to ask for a kiss in return for what you basically forced on me? Food and help? I’m not a—why the hell are you smirking?”
Felan leaned closer, his alpha instincts shoving him forward. And, to his ever growing surprise, Ari didn’t back off. Or hit him. Both had been real possibilities. Almost certain possibilities, and yet . . . .
“Who said I was going to ask for a kiss? You keep calling me a dog, I might as well act like one,” Felan growled and his mouth hovered mere inches from Ari’s own when a box tumbled to the ground with a resounding crash.
Ari jumped and cursed under his breath. Moved toward the fallen box and pulled out what was inside. It didn’t appear that anything broke. Good. Felan didn’t want to be blamed (and charged) for that too. “Are you going to open the crates or not?”
“As you wish,” Felan said.
Ari’s brow quirked, his frown deepening.
With his shifter strength, they popped open with ease. Soon, they were surrounded by piles of artifacts (some of it looked like junk and some of it just smelled bad), but all of it was interesting. And, in typical Ari fashion, most of it appeared to be magic. At least, that’s what Felan assumed from the different scents that radiated off of most of it. No wonder Ari asked for his help. He probably needed someone who could not only help him unload it, but also catalog it as well. And who better for the job than a professor of magical history?
Felan whistled. “This is the best haul I’ve seen in a long time. Still not going to tell me whose estate it was?”
“Bradley Montgomery,” Ari said, handling an hourglass with blue sand. Or—no. Not sand. Something else. Felan would have something to say about it once he took a breath and calmed the chill that raced up his spine.
He might’ve been an alpha wolf, but he knew how little he could do if faced with some powers, including the terrible sort of power associated with light mages. They’d held a unicorn, the only sort of magical shifter, captive and under their control for years before Bradley was finally brought down. Felan knew all of that because Tyler and the unicorn in question, Quinn, were mates.
“Montgomery? He died over a month ago. You know what he did. Are you sure you want anything to do with the sorts of things his family collected?”
Ari flashed him a dangerous grin. “I want exactly the kinds of things his family collected because I know what to do with them. You don’t trust me?”
Of course. Ari Gold might have the only magical antique shop in Haven, but he also wasn’t going to sell dangerous objects to unsuspecting people. In fact, as long as Felan had known him (a good fifteen years), Ari never sold anything actually dangerous. Well, not magically dangerous, anyway. He either donated it to a museum or disposed of it in some other way.
This collection was safest in Ari’s hands.
Felan sighed. “I trust you more than you know.”
It might’ve been the fluorescent light overhead, but he swore Ari’s cheeks colored, just at the tops of his cheekbones. “The feeling isn’t mutual.”
Felan laughed, a short bitter sound, and took a good look at the hourglass in Ari’s slender fingers. “Is that lapis lazuli in place of the sand?” he asked and leaned in close.
Ari smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I think it is. But I’m not going to break it open to find out. Does it smell like it?”
“My nose isn’t sensitive enough to detect odors through sealed glass, but I thought all lapis lazuli was faintly magical.”
Ari’s smile sharpened in a way that shouldn’t have been possible for non-shifters. “It is. Not enough to have much of an effect unless ingested or worn against bare skin in great quantities, but it does look pretty. I’m sure someone will pay a good price for it. What do you make of this?”
He held out an old iron lantern, black and heavy with clear glass doors. It had a faint flickering flame in the center of the wick. As far as Felan could tell, Ari hadn’t lit it, which meant it was like that before. The flame flared a pale blue instead of the standard orange. “You packed this while it was burning?”
“I surrounded it in fire-proof packing material first. And I didn’t want to blow it out until I knew what it was. The iron around it is used to repel elves, but why?”
He was right about the elves bit. Human folklore held that iron repelled fairies, which didn’t exist, though elves were real enough. And iron did repel them. It wasn’t deadly to them the way silver was deadly to shifters, but it did put a damper on their magic and had a distasteful smell from what Felan gathered in his research. He didn’t notice it himself, but he did note the smell of damp that came from the flame. Not normal, but magic never was.
“They don’t like the odor of iron and it stifles their magic. Mostly any glamour they put on, and you know how vain they can be. The flame in the middle is mysterious. It smells wet,” Felan said, almost to himself, and opened the door of the lantern.
Ari held out a bit of packing straw and put it in the flame. It didn’t catch. The blue fire moved through it without scorching it or showing any effect at all.
“I’ve heard of this. It’s a dead flame,” Ari said, his voice flat. Empty as the flame was of warmth.
When Felan glanced at him, Ari swallowed and licked his lips. Their shoulders touched and it would’ve been too easy to lean over and kiss him before he could move away.
Felan managed to abstain.
“Yes, I think you’re right. They used to be used in cemeteries in the ancient world. There are tales that Ostia Antica’s road of the dead was lined with them. The iron isn’t to repel elves, in this case, it’s for ghosts.”
“To light the way in the darkness of death,” Ari said. His hand shook as he set the lantern down.
Felan watched Ari for a long moment. “They also were used at the turn of the twe
ntieth century back when humans had a short-lived resurgence in spiritualism.”
That got Ari’s attention. He raised a brow. “Oh?”
“To commune with the dead. It’s said the light calls forth ghosts better than an Ouija board.”
Ari snorted. “Because Ouija boards don’t work.” But his eyes still took on the sheen of interest that Felan had grown so accustomed to over the years. “Have you ever used one before?”
“I’ve never even seen one before, not in the flesh,” Felan admitted and touched the iron that held the flame. It gave off no heat or cold. It felt as if it were not there at all.
“The foremost magical scholar in the Pacific Northwest hasn’t ever seen one of these. Are you going to add that to your next book?” Ari asked, tone finally taking on a hint of humor.
“You’ve brought me plenty of things I otherwise wouldn’t have seen, Goldie,” Felan said with a smirk.
Ari glowered at him. “Says the man who likes to brag about all the places he’s been. Ur. Camelot. Timbuktu.”
“Camelot isn’t real, but I have been to the others. You could’ve come with me. The invitation was always open.”
Ari’s jaw clenched in a way that told Felan he overstepped his bounds. Again. “Can it really commune with the dead?”
“The rumors say so. Why? Having a ghost problem?” Felan asked and squeezed Ari’s shoulder. It was slender, but strong enough. He was on the slim side and that suited Felan fine. His own build came from being an alpha more than actually working out. If not for that, he’d be sorely out of shape from sitting in his office most of the day or standing in front of a lecture hall.
“What?” Ari breathed and shook his head, though his eyes lost focus as they stared at the blue flame. “I just wondered if we could use it to talk to Kian. See if he had anything to say. Never mind. That’s stupid.”
A cold hand grasped Felan by the chest. Yes. That’s what Ari would want to use it for. “I’m not sure if it really works. And there are other rumors too. If a living human touches the flame, they’ll die.”
Ari started. Wrinkled his nose and gave a decisive nod. “Good to know. Let’s get through this stuff tonight. The sell pile is there. The research pile is here. The keep pile is in the corner. Chop chop, alpha.”
Ari didn’t call him ‘dog’ for once.
The sensation of eyes on his back intensified, but he’d put up with anything to be close to Ari.
Felan allowed himself a small smile and got to work.
3
Kian was there.
Ari felt the weight of him in the room. The way his presence filled a space though there was no physical indication of it. No actual way he could be with them when his body was rotting in the Haven Cemetery out near Forest Park. Well, unless he was a ghost, but Ari kept that to himself.
He had no reason not to tell Cage, but how do you bring up your ex-boyfriend’s dead brother was haunting your house? Not easily. That’s how.
Plus, it felt like Kian didn’t want Cage to know. Ari couldn’t say why he thought that. Maybe he just wished it were true since Kian never said either way. But Kian had knocked that box over before Felan kissed him, which meant something.
Like Kian hadn’t forgiven Cage for what happened that night. Or that he didn’t want them to be together. Either way, Ari paid attention and didn’t let his loneliness or the alcohol overshadow good sense.
But with Felan so close—shit.
That wasn’t always easy.
He might not like the alpha anymore, but that wasn’t the same as not finding him attractive. With those sharp eyes and his stupidly strong jaw, it was difficult not to remember the better times they’d had together. Or what Cage looked like naked—the thickness of his muscles and his . . . .
Not going there.
Ari focused on the items they sorted instead. Getting through all seven crates had taken half the time with Cage’s help, even if he went off on a tangent a few times while they argued about what something might’ve been used for. Still, Ari knew having a magical scholar there was useful.
The alcohol wasn’t a bad idea either, but maybe he shouldn’t have broken out the gin. They’d both gone through a few gin and tonics and several beers, but Ari was smaller and couldn’t hold his liquor as well as the alpha.
At least Cage’s eyes were blurrier than they’d been earlier, and he’d spent the last five minutes staring at that dull black dagger that was missing the jewels in the hilt. It currently sat in the ‘research’ pile since neither of them knew what it did. Cage said it smelled vacant, which he couldn’t figure out and had proceeded to drink another beer like that might help him realize what caused it.
Ari sensed something strange when he touched the dagger, but he wasn’t going to put too much thought into it just now. Plenty of the objects felt strange. That’s what magical objects did. And until he knew what the dagger was, he’d put it in his special lockbox and keep it tucked away.
It was probably an old murder weapon or something equally unsavory that the Montgomery family collected since they were such sick fucks.
He leaned close to Cage and reached for the knife, but a grip like iron wrapped around his wrist and held firm.
“Don’t,” Cage breathed.
Ari snorted. “You can’t even smell the magic on it. Plus, I need to put it away before you decide to run off with it.”
He wrapped it in a spare dust cloth and picked it up. It felt cold to the touch even through the cloth, but not so much that it hurt.
Cage watched him walk away.
The most secure lockbox was in the kitchen under the floorboards. Not the most original place to hide things, but his grandmother had it installed ages ago before the house was his. Redoing it at this point seemed silly since he was the only one who knew where it was anyway.
Once the knife was safely stored behind a thick door of iron and several wards and one boobytrap, Ari headed back to the back room.
A swish of movement near the staircase caught his eye.
Kian.
Again.
Well, if he wanted Cage gone he’d have to say it loud enough for Ari to understand.
“Shouldn’t you get some sleep?” Cage asked.
Ari started and turned toward the back room. The hallway was narrow in that part of the house. Those rooms had been used for servants in the past so they wouldn’t have to bother the polite company in the front of the house. The wallpaper had darkened with age, and was less ornate than that in the formal sitting and dining rooms. It made it difficult to see with only the dim outline of light from the closed door behind the alpha.
“I have to kick you out before I can do that,” Ari said and moved toward Cage, swallowing the lump in his throat as he did. “You could’ve turned off the light in the room to make my life easier.”
Cage’s teeth glinted in the low light, and he did as Ari asked.
Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea, because now they were in near total darkness, and Ari still had to lock the damn door to the back room with an alpha looming over him and showing off those sharp canines.
He didn’t like to leave it open just in case a patient got sticky fingers while they were waiting to see him. So he wasn’t the most trusting healer in Haven. At least he was alive and still had a decent business to show for it.
Cage didn’t bother moving as Ari leaned around him to lock the door, but his strong fingers did help Ari glide the key into the lock and turn it.
“You could’ve turned on a hall light,” Cage said, his breath brushing across Ari’s clean shaven cheek.
“Went out last week, and I haven’t fixed it yet,” Ari grumbled and took a measured step backward, even when his body begged him to move closer instead. He didn’t mention that the other reason he hadn’t changed it had to do with the tall ceilings and how annoying it was to dig up the stepladder that allowed him to reach the hall light. Or that Kian seemed to like the shadows anyway, so why not have a few extra for him to h
ide in?
“And you aren’t going to bully me into it?” Cage asked, and Ari swore the damn alpha smiled.
“Like a healer could bully a fucking alpha. Are you going to leave or—”
“Ask me to stay the night,” Cage said, cutting him off and trapping Ari against the locked door.
Ari frowned. “Why the hell would I do that?”
Then Cage leaned closer, and Ari sucked in his scent, his presence, and couldn’t have forced himself to move if he tried. It’d been far too long since he’d been this close to anyone who wasn’t a patient. Casual dating wasn’t his thing—never had been—and after what happened with Cage and Kian, well, he’d all but given up.
Now this.
“I don’t forgive you,” Ari managed, like that might get Cage to take a step back. Give him some room to think and breathe and say ‘no.’
But the alpha didn’t, and the word never quite reached Ari’s lips.
“I know. I don’t need you to forgive me . . . . I need—” His mouth brushed Ari’s, and Ari bit back the sound that wanted to claw its way out of his throat, a desperately needy sound that had to be the fucking alcohol talking and not his actual thoughts.
Giving into the kiss was the worst idea he’d ever had, but his body melted into the touch like he was made of butter and Cage’s fingers were a sizzling skillet. They felt nearly as hot as they wrapped around his shoulders and held him close.
Ari’s teeth snagged at Cage’s bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth and the alpha groaned.
Shit.
Kian needed to help him end this.
Tip over another box.
Knock on the wall.
Something!
The house stayed quiet around them, and Ari’s chest heaved and his groin ached. Well, maybe this wasn’t so bad. He didn’t need it to mean anything. Not like he was taking Cage back. Getting his rocks off once in awhile would do wonders for his mood, he guessed.
Not to mention his blood pressure.
“This doesn’t mean shit. I’m not taking you back. We’re not going upstairs, and you aren’t staying the night,” Ari grumbled and let his lips trail over Cage’s jaw.
