by Amos Cassidy
Stealthily, she exited her room and padded across the hallway in her Mickey Mouse slippers. Her clothes for after her bath were slung over her shoulder. Turning the handle of the bathroom door she pushed it open and slipped inside, turning to face the door as she did so she could bolt it. With a satisfied sigh she turned to face the bath and stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open in shock.
Roman froze, his hand reaching for the towel on the handrail as he stepped out of the shower.
“Oh!” Her hands went up to cover her eyes. Thistle had not been exaggerating! She turned, fumbling for the lock with one hand still covering her eyes. She barely registered the scuffle behind her as Roman covered himself.
“If you wanted a sneak peek, all you had to do was ask,” he drawled.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him– pretty sure his bits were no longer on display. She meant to apologise but his smug grin simply made her defensive.
“I wanted a long soak,” she snapped, “what are you doing up so early anyway!”
Roman quirked an amused eyebrow. “I couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged.
Typical! Of all the days he could choose to become an insomniac it had to be this one. She tried to ignore the beads of water skating down his hard chest and sculpted abs and squashed her desire to lick them. Instead, she firmly fixed her gaze on his face.
“Fine!” She turned back to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.” She reached for the bolt then froze as the handle turned of its own volition.
“Hello? Who’s in there? I’m dying for a wee!”
Shit. Flo was outside the door!
Roman gently gripped her arm and pulled her away from the door. “Sorry, mum, just shampooing my hair!”
“Bleedin’ hell! Okay, luv. I’ll just use the one down stairs, me bladder ain’t what it used to be,” she muttered, before padding away.
Rose let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t want Flo getting the wrong idea. “Thanks.” She reached for the bolt yet again, unlocked the door and gripped the handle. Roman’s hand was suddenly covering hers, his skin still slightly damp from his shower. He moved in close so that his bare chest was pressed against her back, his breath warm and moist against her ear. “What’s the rush, Rose? I didn’t peg you as a coward. You’ve seen mine so it’s only fair that I get to see yours.”
Ignoring the erotic feel of him pressed against her, and the way that her heart was hammering in her chest ten to the dozen, Rose succeeded in finding and channelling her annoyance. “You may think you’re God’s gift to women but, believe me, you’re not even registering on my hot-o-meter.”
The next second she had been whipped round so that her back was pressed up hard against the door, her pelvis pressed intimately against the growing bulge behind Roman’s towel. She wiggled, trying to get free but this just made the bulge bigger and her breathing heavier. She really wished she wasn’t finding the experience such a turn on. His arms were like twin vices. Lifting her head to glare at him, she found the words of rebuke dying on her lips. His eyes were bright and soft as they gazed down at her, his lips were slightly parted, his expression one of pure desire.
Oh. Shit.
She felt the muscles of her pelvis contract in response. In that moment it was her body that was in the driving seat, her libido that was calling the shots. She licked her lips nervously and his gaze immediately dropped to rest there. He lowered his head, their breath mingling and their hearts beating hard and fast in anticipation.
This was wrong, so wrong. Thistle was her friend!
Reaching for the door handle, she twisted and pushed, stumbling into the hallway.
Ignoring the disappointment in Roman’s beautiful eyes, she turned and fled to the safety of her room before she could change her mind.
20.
THE MORNING LIGHT
The tantalising, mouth-watering aroma of bacon and eggs wafted into the room, tickling his senses. He could just about make out the sizzle of food going into the frying pan. Brandon opened his eyes slowly. One of his legs was hanging out of the duvet and over the side of the king-sized bed. The bedroom was warm. He sat up. The morning light was waiting beyond the drawn blinds, glowing around the edges of the thick brown slats. Brandon looked around him. This was Raven’s bedroom. It looked as immaculate as he did – clean lines, no clutter and subtle colours.
The sound of a spatula scraping a pan came from beyond the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar.
Brandon climbed out of the bed half naked. He searched for his clothes but he couldn’t find them in the non-cluttered room. And then the door opened.
“Good morning,” Raven said, smiling warmly.
Brandon suppressed a gasp of awe. Clad only in pyjama bottoms, his magnificently sculpted top half exposed, blue-black hair wet from the shower, Raven looked every bit the Adonis.
“Hi,” Brandon said.
“I cooked you breakfast,” Raven said.
“Really?” Brandon was genuinely surprised by the kind gesture. “Thank you.”
Raven nodded. “Come and eat with me. I’ve prepared a fresh pot of coffee. If you prefer tea then I’ll make a pot. Or I have some orange juice in the fridge.”
“Coffee is great. Um, I have to ask…where are my clothes?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve hung them up in the spare bedroom so they didn’t get all crumpled there on the floor.” Raven grinned.
Brandon blushed slightly but smiled at the memory of the night before. Raven had swept him off his feet, hailing a taxi outside Supernova and whisking him away to his apartment in Canary Wharf. Brandon had been stunned by it. How could a university student/part-time lecturer afford such a luxury? He hadn’t pondered the question long as Raven had led him straight into the bedroom. Soon there had been no time for questions, just bliss as they had made love for hours. Raven was an energetic, generous, spectacular lover who had explored his body, awakened so many parts of him he hadn’t even known existed.
Every part of Brandon still tingled. He no longer felt the shadow of loneliness. His prince had finally rescued him and he was seeing his fantasies seep into a wonderful reality.
“Don’t worry about them for now,” Raven said, regarding the clothes. “The time for modesty has passed.” His eyes twinkled in amusement. “The apartment is nice and warm. There is no need to feel shy.”
“You want me to eat breakfast in my underwear?”
“Not unless you want to eat it naked.” Raven shrugged. “Either way I don’t mind.”
Brandon blushed. “Underwear is fine.”
Raven bent to brush a kiss on his lips and then took his hand. “Come to the kitchen with me.”
Raven had cooked a feast. There were fried eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, baked beans, hash browns and fried bread. And there was lots of it.
Raven indicated the impromptu buffet “Help yourself to everything.” He proceeded to pour the coffee.
Brandon took a seat at the black granite table and added some food to the square plate.
“Would you like some sauce? I have ketchup and brown sauce.”
“Ketchup, please.”
Raven retrieved a bottle from his fridge. “Salt?”
“No thank you.”
“Any cream and sugar in your coffee?”
“Just cream, please.”
Raven added cream to the two coffees and put some food on his plate. “Enjoy.” He dug in.
Fifteen minutes later Brandon wondered how Raven looked so lean when he had such a fathomless appetite. It was almost inhuman the amount of bacon, sausages and eggs Raven had consumed. “You look like you enjoyed that,” said Brandon, taking a sip of his coffee.
“I did.”
“You must be really active. How many hours in the gym do you have to put in to burn all that off?”
Raven laughed. “Quite a few.”
Brandon smiled and drank some more coffee. He took in his surroundings some more. The kitchen was like the bedroom, cl
ean and clutter free. Expensive looking black granite work tops, like the table, and chrome and pine cupboards made up the décor. It all looked very stylish. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“My pleasure.”
“You’re a great cook.”
“Thank you.”
There was a silence then, one that Brandon was longing to fill with one question…where does this leave us now?
Raven was looking at him, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his silver eyes. Brandon felt suddenly weak under his gaze– intoxicated by his beauty and his delicious masculinity.
“I really had fun last night,” Raven said.
“So did I.”
“And…”
Say it, Brandon thought. Say you want to continue seeing me. Say you love me, say you…
“… it would be great to do it again sometime, if you like.”
Brandon stopped. That wasn’t exactly what he had hoped to hear. Weren’t princes supposed to declare their love for the fair maiden once they had rescued them? Well, a slightly geeky university receptionist in this case, not a fair maiden. Was last night just…just…a chance for Raven to scratch an itch? And then all sorts of things were flying through his mind. Was he used? Was Raven just playing it cool? Was Raven too afraid to say the words? Was Raven taking it slow? Was he over-thinking the whole thing? He took another sip of coffee.
“That would be great,” he replied.
Maybe doing it again sometime would mean a date first, a romantic dinner in one of those intimate restaurants he so often walked by and longed to be sat in with a boyfriend.
“I have to go and see a friend of mine this evening for a dinner thing.” Raven said. “I’ll make sure you get home first though. I can’t really invite you along I’m afraid. I would if I could.”
Brandon felt his stomach drop but plastered a smile on his face. “That’s okay.”
“But please stay and relax with me for the day, if you like.”
He wanted him to stay for the day. That had to mean something, right? “I’d like that.”
“We could watch a film or play some board games I have or just do nothing, whatever you like.” Raven leant back slightly on his chair, reaching his arms up, stretching his muscles.
“Would you mind if I use your shower?” Brandon asked.
Raven grinned mischievously. “Of course you can.”
Brandon wondered why Raven was looking at him like that. “And do you have a toothbrush I could borrow, please?”
“I do.”
Raven still had that mischievous look on his face and Brandon felt a little nervous. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he blurted out.
“Well,” Raven said, “I was just thinking that maybe I could do with another shower– take that smell of cooking away. We could take one together.”
Brandon felt his face flush.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Raven said.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry.” He laughed. “I’m just sitting here, looking at you and really wanting…seconds…and thirds and maybe more. Maybe we could spend the whole day naked. I could work up an appetite for my dinner thing.”
With his face glowing red, Brandon got out of his seat and headed in the direction of the bathroom.
Raven sat up straighter, his brow creasing in concern. “I’m sorry, Brandon. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You can have the shower to yourself.”
Brandon turned to face him and removed his underwear. He threw it at Raven who caught it, a hungry and slightly stunned expression on his face.
“Are you coming or not?”
21.
LAST NIGHT ON THE MUNDANE SIDE
Rose and Thistle made a hasty escape into the cool, crisp night as soon as the credits began to roll. The film, which had been dubbed ‘AN ABSOLUTE MUST SEE!’ had turned out to be seriously overrated. They had, however, got their money’s worth by sitting through it. Rose had entertained Thistle by whispering alternative dialogue for some of the particularly badly acted scenes. A few people had actually walked out early but Rose was adamant that they should stay. After all, wasn’t having to sit through a bad movie a part of normal life?
Pulling her wool-mix, calf-length coat tightly around her, Rose breathed in the refreshing night air. Thistle, in keeping with the human image, had too donned a long almost ankle-length black leather coat. The coat flapped behind her in the night breeze as she walked, kicking at its length with her knee-high leather boots. With her pale almost translucent skin and luminous eyes, Rose could clearly see the vampire within her. To think, only forty eight hours earlier she would never have drawn the comparison. Now she found herself comparing Thistle to the Hollywood representation of a modern vampire.
“Whew! I’m glad that’s over.” Thistle linked arms with Rose. “So what now?”
“Food! Faye recommended this really cool Italian place. It’s not far from here. Figaro’s or something. You game?”
Thistle licked her lips “Oh, I do love pasta. Pasta and a nice glass of red.”
“Thanks for doing this.” Rose gave her arm a squeeze. It was strange. She wasn’t usually a touchy feely person with her girl mates, but with Thistle it just felt natural.
“So how has your day been?” Thistle asked.
Her mind instantly flipped to an image of Roman, naked and stepping out of the bath. She quickly pushed the image to the back of her mind. “Um…good. I visited the British Museum, Tate Britain, Tate Modern and got in some serious shopping.”
Thistle looked impressed “Wow, you have had an eventful day.”
Rose shrugged. “Yeah, well.” She sounded suddenly subdued.
“Joining the supernatural community isn’t a death sentence you know?” Thistle pulled her to a stop, turning her so that they were facing each other.
Rose struggled to keep the scepticism off her face.
“In fact, it’s the start of a whole new, more exciting life.”
“Being attacked by monsters isn’t really the kind of excitement I’m looking for.”
“There are monsters in the human world too, Rose. The only difference is they look just like everybody else.”
Rose gnawed at her bottom lip, and then nodded.
“At least in our world we’re honest about who we are.”
Rose chuckled. “I have to admit, the possibility of being a super hero does have its appeal.”
They both laughed.
Figaro’s was a small, intimate looking establishment. The décor was soft and subtly opulent. Rose felt herself relaxing visibly as they pushed open the door and stepped into the warm interior. Shrugging off her coat, she hung it over her arm. Thistle did the same as they waited to be seated.
“I hope you don’t have to reserve here,” Rose whispered. “I’m starving. I really don’t want to hike around looking for another place to eat.”
Thistle looked thoughtful.
A moment later a maitre’d approached, his eyes sweeping over them, assessing, taking in their high street clothing, not a designer label in sight. He smiled slyly. “Have you a reservation?” His eyes, hard and judgmental, belied his polite tone.
Rose hid her discomfort and stood taller. She happened to love her coat, which she had purchased in the sale at Top Shop. “Actually, no we haven’t. We were hoping you would be able to seat us.” Her gaze flicked behind him, pointedly sweeping across the restaurant floor. Only three tables were occupied, the rest sat empty.
His eyes lit up with apparent glee. “I’m afraid it is reservations only, madam.”
Great. A snob. Rose should have known that if Faye had eaten here it would be a snooty place. She squared her shoulders. She had been looking forward to this meal all day and she was damned if she was going to let some jumped up server boy with a superiority complex ruin her evening.
“You don’t seem to be very busy and it’s already,” she glanced at her watch, “nine o’clock. Under the circumstances I’m sure you woul
dn’t want to turn away paying customers.”
“Unfortunately...” a pause, “madam, we have a strict policy-”
“Forget it, babe.” Thistle moved forward, placing an arm around Rose’s waist. “I know exactly what’s going on here.”
Rose looked confused. “You do?”
“Yes, this individual is obviously homophobic!” She bristled with indignation. “In fact, I bet this whole establishment is anti-gay!” She raised her voice slightly in order to be overheard. Two of the customers looked up from their meals, curious to see what was going on.
The maitre’d looked from Rose to Thistle and seemed at a loss for words. Rose hid a smile and decided to play the dumb blonde. “But, babe, isn’t that against the law or something?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m not sure when it comes to restaurants.” Thistle rubbed a soothing hand up and down Rose’s arm. “But it is a breach of human rights.”
Rose looked stricken. “Is this true?” she asked the man raising her voice slightly. “Are you homophobic?”
Now every single customer in the room was staring with open interest at the maitre’d who had visibly paled and was shooting panicked glances behind him. “Um…I assure you that I have no personal objection to your sexual preference-”
“Oh, so the management does?” Rose asked, wide-eyed.
Thistle threw up her hands. “See, I told you! We take one step forward and two back! Well, I assure you that I will be speaking to the local papers about this-”
“Excuse me. May I be of some assistance?” A tall, quietly handsome man approached the trio and there was a slight stir in the room as the other customers strained to hear, while struggling to look like they weren’t eaves dropping. From the cut of his suit Rose guessed he was the manager.
“I am Figaro, the owner of this tiny establishment. May I be of assistance?”
“Your waiter refused to give us a table because we’re gay.” Thistle explained. She managed to look beautiful and indignant at the same time.