by SJD Peterson
Make a wish.
Chapter Twenty-Three
RICHARD spent the day going through sweaters, electronics, artwork, jewelry, and every other type of traditional items one would give as a gift. None seemed suitable to give a three-hundred-and-fifty-year-old warlock.
He plopped down on a bench outside the latest boutique he’d visited and hung his head. “It’s hopeless,” he mumbled.
“Why such a long face?”
Richard jerked his head up to find Ry staring down at him. He was dressed impeccably in black slacks and a blue tailored shirt that was the exact color of his eyes. “Obviously not for the same reason as you,” he said, nodding toward the numerous bags Ry was holding.
He held up his purchases. “I needed some new clothes. Can I join you?”
Richard gestured toward the other side of the bench. “Suit yourself.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing all morning.” He set the bags down next to his feet.
“Huh?”
“I needed to be fitted for some new suits. I appear to have gained a few pounds lately with all the doughnuts that seem to be around all the time.”
“That surprises me.”
“Me too.” Ry chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong. I love doughnuts and obviously my belly does too.” He patted his stomach.
“I meant that you’d go out to get fitted for a suit. Wouldn’t it be easier to just—” Richard reached up and wiggled his nose.
“Sure, but every time we use”—he pointed to his nose—“it takes energy. Use it too much and we get zapped. It’s like a magic hangover and makes us extremely weak and vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable to what?”
“Those who would want to do us harm. I know you wouldn’t think so in this day and age, but not everyone accepts us.”
Richard nodded. “Actually, in this day and age I think it would be harder. Everyone seems to be judging everyone. Let me ask you something. Did Tikron put himself at risk to save Albert?”
Ry was silent, but Richard could tell he was holding something back from the expression on his face.
“Did he?” Richard prompted.
“He was happy to do it.”
“That’s not what I asked. Did he put himself in harm’s way?” Richard held Ry’s gaze. He wasn’t going to let it go, and Ry must have seen the stubbornness, because after a few ticks of the clock, he nodded.
“We are not allowed to interfere with matters of life and death. While there is a loophole when it comes to animals, Tikron will still have to make his case in front of the elders. A spell like that takes some serious mojo, the kind he can’t hide from them. The good thing that comes out of Tikron extending himself like that, you could totally take advantage of his weakened state. He’d be putty in your hands.”
“I would never do that,” Richard said adamantly.
Ry studied Richard for a moment, then smiled. “You’re good for him. He really cares about you, you know?”
“I care about him too. I don’t want him to get into trouble for me. Is there anything I could say to the elders to help plead his case?”
“Tikron knew the stakes. He often does what he wants. He’ll be fine. Besides, you’re not yet allowed to know who the elders are, but I really do appreciate that you’re willing to do that for him.”
“I’d do anything for him,” Richard said with all sincerity. “Which isn’t a lot. Hell, I can’t even figure out what to get him for his birthday. What does one buy a three-hundred-and-fifty-year-old warlock?”
“Tikron is more of the personal type of gift guy.”
“I don’t understand,” Richard admitted. He’d never bought a gift for anyone as special as Tikron. His parents didn’t celebrate markers of birth with gifts and cake. There had been no Easter Bunny, no Santa, no event in his life in which he was required to buy a gift. He had no experience to draw from. It really was a hopeless situation.
“Give him or make him something. It will mean the world to him.”
Richard thought about it for a second, then huffed out an exhausted breath. “I’m not very artistic. I can’t even draw a straight line without a ruler.”
“You have one thing he wants, and it won’t take a ruler or a single cell of artistic ability. First I have to ask, do you love him?”
“I think so,” Richard admitted.
“What is hold you back from knowing?”
“Well, first I don’t have any expertise with this sort of thing, and while some people may believe in love at first sight, I would hypothesize they don’t understand the difference between being in love and loving someone and being loved in return. I have spent much time considering these feelings I’ve recently been experiencing. I’ve explored my head and heart and have come to the conclusion that people often make decisions based on how they feel, but it is only when one can feel, say, and do with experience behind us that they can truly love someone.”
Ry stared wide-eyed without saying a word for several minutes. The silence stretched on and on until it became thick and uncomfortable. “Have I said something wrong?” Richard asked.
Ry shook his head. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who analyzed the subject of love quite so critically.”
“It’s in my nature to question things,” Richard said defensively. “You asked me if I loved him and I’m telling you I don’t know. I don’t think we’ve shared enough experiences, enough heartache, enough personal reflection or time to truly know whether my feelings for Tikron go beyond surface attraction. How can I be sure I’m not just infatuated? How can I ascertain love from lust? How can I know when, or if, it’s real?” Richard hung his head. “I’m really kind of messed up, aren’t I? I know it’s crazy I can accept magic being real but still question whether love is.”
“Love is the most powerful magic,” Ry said gently. “Let me ask you something. Do you think about him?”
“All the time.”
“Do you miss him when he’s not with you?”
“Yes.”
“Does your breath hitch and your heart skip a beat when you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Can you imagine ever hurting him, taking him for granted, or wanting anyone else but him?”
“No, no, and no. He consumes my thoughts. Hell, I’m ready to change my entire world for him. I want to change it for him.”
Ry smiled a brilliant smile and patted Richard on the back. “Then I have the perfect birthday gift for you to give him. C’mon.” He went to his feet.
“Where are we going?”
“To make this a birthday to remember. All you have to do is take a chance.”
Richard had no clue what Ry was up to, but he followed him. Whatever idea Ry had, it had to be better than sweaters or bath salts. He’d also discovered how pleasurable it could be to take chances when it came to Tikron. At the image of Tikron standing in the shower with water droplets running down his broad chest, Richard knew he’d take any chance when it came to Tikron.
Walk barefoot. Listen to the wind. Drink in the moon. Be magic.
Chapter Twenty-Four
AFTER spending a ridiculous amount of time in front of the mirror—another new facet in his life, primping—he still wasn’t satisfied with his look. He’d tried parting his hair down the side, down the middle, slicked it back, tucked it behind his ears, but no matter what he did, his curls simply wouldn’t cooperate. He was running out of time, and he decided being minty fresh and clean-shaven was more important than taming his curls.
Loud pounding on the door was followed by Ry yelling, “You going to stay in there all night?”
Richard frowned at his reflection, not at all impressed with the image looking back at him. “Maybe,” he tossed back.
More pounding. “C’mon. He’ll be here soon.”
Christ, he’d never been less confident in what he was doing in all his life. He was putting a lot of trust in Ry. He pushed down his natural inclination to distrust. He had to put faith
in Ry. After all, if anyone knew Tikron, it would be him. Still, he was as confident in the empty box idea as he was his hairdo. Ugh.
Even more aggressive pounding. “Don’t make me drag you out of there by your short hairs. Move it. Move it. Move it.”
Richard flipped off the light and flung the door open. “Christ on a stick, are you an annoying man.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Ry grabbed Richard and got him moving. Hands on Richard’s back, he pushed him forward.
Richard stopped dead in his tracks the instant he got a look at the living room. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You like it?”
Richard’s furniture was missing. On the floor in front of a roaring fire was a white imitation bearskin rug—at least he hoped it was faux. Next to the rug was a silver bucket with what looked like a bottle of champagne. At the opposite side of the room was a small bistro table set for two. In the center, a rose and two glasses of red wine outlined with small tea light candles in the shape of a heart. Rose petals on the floor, balloons floating in the air, and from hidden speakers, Air Supply was belting out about them being all out of love.
Richard spun around and glared at Ry. “No, I don’t like it. It looks like Cupid puked in here. This is the cheesiest Valentine’s decoration idea I’ve ever seen. This is horrible.” His voice rose with each sentence as panic settled into him and caused his heart to race.
Ry didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by Richard’s minirant. He stood there with a big ol’ grin on his face. “Oh, c’mon, Richard. Nothing says love more than hearts, balloons, and rose petals.”
Just then Albert stepped out from around the corner with a red bow tie around his neck and little white feather wings secured to his back. Richard put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at Ry. “Get that ridiculous costume off Albert and…and….” He gestured at the spectacle around the room. “Ry, fix this. I mean it.”
There was a knock at the front door, which caused Ry’s grin to grow. “You better greet your guest.” He took a long deep breath, then said, “Smells like Dante has dinner almost done.” Ry snapped his fingers and was gone.
“Who the hell is Dante?”
“You called, sir?”
Richard spun toward the kitchen to see a portly man dressed all in white with a crazy tall chef hat. “Who are you?”
“I am Dante. Now please, invite your guest in and have a seat. I shall bring your appetizers out right away.”
Stunned, Richard walked to the door. Albert was already there, barking and wagging his tail vigorously. Richard reached down, unhooked the wings, and shoved them in the front closet. Too bad he couldn’t get rid of the rest of the gaudy crap as easily.
He opened the door, a ready excuse on his lips, but all thoughts fled when he spotted Tikron. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks and dinner jacket over a silky red dress shirt. His hair was styled expertly, and if possible, he was even more handsome than Richard remembered. The large bright smile on Tikron’s face made him even more so. In his arms was a large bouquet of red roses and the biggest heart-shaped box of chocolates Richard had ever seen.
“I have to say, when Ry told me you’d picked a Valentine’s theme for my birthday dinner, I was beyond happy. I frickin’ love Valentine’s Day and the romantic vibe,” Tikron complimented.
“Well, if you love the Valentine’s theme, you’re going to get even happier when you see this.” Richard stepped out of the way and gestured for Tikron to enter.
Tikron handed Richard the gifts, then reached down to greet Albert before stepping farther into Richard’s apartment.
Richard struggled with the overwhelmingly large box and flowers. “You shouldn’t have,” he said. “It’s your birthday, not mine.”
“Technically it’s not my birthday for another two days.” He raked his eyes down Richard’s body, then smiled slyly. “You and I can celebrate it by staying in bed all day. But for now it’s a party, and that’s the perfect excuse to bring gifts.”
“I don’t know if I would call this a party. It’s just you and me.”
“And Albert,” Tikron clarified. He stepped up close to Richard and took him into his arms. “I’m not a big fan of crowds, so I’m thinking this is the perfect size, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my night with.”
Tikron pressed his lips to Richard’s, and he instantly opened his mouth, inviting Tikron in. All thoughts of tacky decorations or strangers in his kitchen fled. His focus narrowed down to Tikron’s warm mouth, exploring tongue, and the way he made Richard’s toes curl.
“I hate to interrupt, but your meal is ready.”
Richard jerked, but Tikron apparently wasn’t in any hurry to end the kiss. He continued to explore Richard’s mouth, slowly ending the kiss with small biting kisses before pulling back. “I was hoping you were the meal.”
“He’s talking about appetizers,” Richard said and winked.
Tikron took Richard’s hand and led him to the table. He pulled out a chair for Richard, helping him move it closer to the table after he sat. Tikron took the chair next to him and moved it a smidge closer.
“Ah, Señor Dante, I should have known those wonderful savory scents were your doing. What have you created to dazzle us?”
Good question, Richard thought. He had no idea what was on the menu or what kind of surprises might be in store.
“Good evening, Master Tikron. Master Ry informed me to make all your favorites, so to begin with I have some heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella topped with cilantro and basil.” He set a plate down in front of Tikron and Richard.
Tikron rubbed his hands together. “Oh, you do know the way to my heart.”
Richard picked up his napkin—of course folded into a heart shape—and shook it out before laying it across his lap. “This does look delicious.”
Tikron picked up the two glasses of wine, handing one to Richard and holding the other one up. “To us.”
Richard clinked his glass against Tikron’s. “To us,” he repeated, then took a sip. He was no wine connoisseur, but he had to admit it was pretty darn good. He took another sip before setting it down and picking up his fork.
Tikron snatched it out of his hand and set it back down on the table. “The reason this is one of my favorites is because it’s finger food.” He picked up a slice of mozzarella and tomato between his fingers and brought it to Richard’s lips. The instant he opened his mouth and accepted the morsel, the flavors exploded across his tongue, and he couldn’t help but groan his approval.
Tikron watched him with a lust-filled look in his eyes. “God, I love the sounds you make.”
“Mmm, I can’t wait to hear the ones you make when you try this,” Richard responded. He picked up a small amount of food from his plate and held it out for Tikron. He accepted it, but before Richard could pull his hand back, Tikron grabbed his wrist and sucked the tip of his finger into his mouth, the tip of his tongue swiping away the last of the oil on Richard’s finger before he sat back and chewed his bite.
Warmth rushed to Richard’s groin, his arousal flaring to life and pressing against the zipper of his trousers. He shifted to relieve the ache, but it did no good. Watching Tikron eat was a sensual event. Somehow he made it through the appetizer without exploding, but when Dante brought out the main course, all bets were off.
Dante arrived with a large tray laden with plates. The scents wafting around the room were decadent and mouthwatering. “For dinner I have made you charred leek-dusted wild boar with leek fondue and Brussels sprouts, and for your companion, roasted vegetable ravioli with crispy pancetta and bruschetta with tomato and basil.”
“Oh, Señor Dante, you’re too good to me,” Tikron groaned. The sound of which went straight to Richard’s crotch. He was so doomed. Tikron made love to his meal, and watching him eat this was going to be painful. Literally.
The food was delicious. Neither Richard nor Tikron said much while they savored their meal. But just
as Richard suspected, by the time he set his fork down, he was ready to explode, and it had nothing to do with his stomach. That part of him was pleasingly satisfied.
Dante appeared next to the table just as Tikron finished his last bite. “I trust everything was to your satisfaction.”
Tikron patted his stomach. “As usual, you outdid yourself.”
“Best meal I’ve ever had,” Richard complimented with utter sincerity.
Dante preened while he removed the empty plates. “I have left dessert chilling near the champagne. If there is nothing else I can get for you, I’ll take my leave.”
“Thank you. I believe we’ll be fine.”
“Yes, thank you,” Richard added. “It truly was a wonderful meal.”
“Thank you, and a very happy birthday to you, Master Tikron.” A swirl of light spun around the table, then engulfed Dante from his feet to his head, and with a poof, he was gone, leaving the table as pristine as it had been before they sat down.
Tikron laughed. “Ah, Dante. He has always had a flair for the theatrics, but his food is out of this world.”
“Whew, I have got to learn that spell,” Richard marveled. “Definitely makes cleanup quicker and way more fun.”
“Maybe one day I’ll teach you.” Just then the music, which had been playing low, increased in volume. Tikron went to his feet and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“I don’t know how to dance.” But even as he protested, Richard took Tikron’s hand.
TIKRON led Richard to the center of the room, then pulled him into his arms. “Think of it as foreplay with your clothes on,” Tikron said, then begin to sway.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“No?”
“Nope. That meal was like foreplay, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.”
“Dante is a master in the kitchen.”
“Yes, he is,” Richard agreed. “But I was talking about watching you enjoy it that really got me worked up. Or maybe it was the wine that has me all tingly.”