Blaine was standing at the end of the counter a few feet
away, staring at Killian.
How long could a witch live with his heart stopped?
Oh gods. He
understood. Heat. The way he felt this moment dwarfed every emotion he’d had
with Moran by a thousand. A million. The chasm between indifference and…
passion. His heart beat fast, his breath caught in his chest, and his eyes
never wanted to look on another sight, just Blaine.
He ought to run, but whether away or straight to Blaine,
he wasn’t sure.
Blaine seemed to catch the welcome in that meow. He
smiled and took a step closer. “Hi, Al. Good to see you, buddy.”
Aloysius unwrapped himself from Killian’s neck, did one
bound off the tabletop, and launched himself into Blaine’s waiting arms. Oh
Powers, would that Killian could do the same. He actually had to hold himself
still, or he knew he’d follow the cat.
Blaine petted Al as the cat did his imitation of a moving
fur coat, purring so loudly Killian could hear him, even a few feet away. “You
seem happy to see me, anyway.” He looked up. “Are you happy to see me,
Killian nodded. Correction—his head nodded. He had no
power over it.
Blaine walked even closer. “Could I have lunch with you?
Talk to you?”
The head nodded again.
The human slipped into the chair beside Killian. Sweet
Powers, he smelled so wonderful. That sweet and spice together.
“This sure is one great cat. Where did you get him?”
Killian cleared his throat. “Gift, uh, a gift from my mother.”
Blaine chucked Al under the chin, and the cat let him.
“My mother hates cats.” He looked up, and Killian swam into the pools of deep
green. “Of course, my mother hates me, so she’s not likely to give me the time
of day, much less a pet.”
He grinned. “That she hates me? Oh yeah. I keep defying
her by choosing to be gay when her preacher has clearly cleansed me of this
delusion at least ten times, so she washed her hands of me.”
“But you didn’t choose—Oh, you’re joking.”
Blaine’s grin faded. “I wish it were a joke. Then a lot
of beaten-up, confused kids would have parents who loved and understood them.”
There were worse things than having a manipulative witch
for a mother. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Blaine smiled. “I never thought you were making fun. I
just have a weird sense of humor sometimes.”
Then he did it. He put his hand on Killian’s arm. Such a
simple gesture. Flash! Heat blazed in
Killian’s head, and hot steel filled his cock. Blaine started and pulled his
hand away. Those green eyes widened, and he stared at Killian like he was
either the answer to a dream or a cobra, and Blaine wasn’t sure which. “Holy
Killian tried to make sense of his brain synapses and
grasped at the first thought. “Uh, food—did you want food?”
Blaine leaned over and whispered in his ear. “I want to
eat with you and talk to you and sleep with you and take you home with me. But
right now I want to make love to you so badly I’m having trouble focusing.”
There was that head nod again. Where the fuck did that
“Does that mean you want to make love to me too?”
Killian stared at Blaine, the human physics professor
whose simplest touch could drain a witch’s power until his own mother didn’t
know him and his people couldn’t benefit from his great sperm and—and all that
dogma. The answer was yes. He did want to make love to Blaine. He wanted it
more than anything. The evil witch voice piped up in his head. Yep, these humans are tempting. That’s how
the witch race got so depleted. He was the strongest male witch in ten
generations. That had to be worth something. He’d never had a really satisfying
relationship with a man, even for a short time. He wanted one. Didn’t he
deserve just a little happiness before he gave his life for his people? He’d
tried it the right way, the witch-stamp-of-approval way, and nearly got his
back broken for his trouble.
Blaine was staring at Killian like he was in suspended
animation; only the fingertips that scratched Al’s head moved. There. That was
it. Blaine had the best possible credentials. Aloysius, who was no dumb cat,
adored the human… and so did Killian. Just that simple. He didn’t care if he
rotted in witch oblivion, or if he lost some of his fabled power. How much
damage could he do in such a little while? “Yes.”
Blaine came to life. “Excuse me?”
“Yes. Please take me home with you.” He swallowed. “And
all those other things.”
Blaine’s smile lit like a midwinter bonfire.
“Mwrarrrrr, mrrrrrwarrrr, mrrrrwarrrr.”
The bloody cat was singing while he slithered around
Blaine’s neck in some happy dance known only to strange and powerful blue-eyed