Brush with Catastrophe

by Tara Lain

  Maybelle bobbed her head with her mouth full. “Umph. Good. The waiter’s been terrific.”

  Chen stopped chewing for a second. “Attentive but not too hovery.”

  Ryder smiled. “Good, glad to hear it.”

  Lucien looked up and wiped his lips. “The lasagna could use a touch more oregano.”

  Sammy glanced at him. What the heck did oregano taste like? Maybe just a little too discriminating.

  Ryder’s smile didn’t break. “Thanks. I’ll tell them in the kitchen.” His gaze kind of lingered on Sammy. Sammy shifted in his chair, and Ryder looked at the group. “Guess I better get back to work.”

  Chen laughed. “Hey, you’re working. You took our official report.”

  “Yeah.” Ryder glanced again at Sammy and walked back toward the kitchen.

  Sammy’s shoulders slumped. “That was awkward.”

  Chen nodded.

  Maybelle put a hand on Chen’s arm. “Sorry, you guys. Who’d have thought Ryder would work here? The owners are, uh, part of our community. So he works for”—she lowered her voice—“witches.”

  Lucien looked around at all the young witches. “I must be missing something. Why was it awkward?”

  Sammy sighed. “Ryder is one of my best friends. Chen’s too. Actually he’s close to most of us. But we’ve been friends since before the reintegration of the half-breeds with the full bloods. When we first became friends, Chen and I didn’t even know we were witches. Anyway, for him to see us all together and not to have been invited must feel odd to him.”

  Lucien shrugged. “Now that you know about your true nature, no doubt your friendship will naturally die away. You have less in common.”

  “No!” Shit. Sammy felt like someone had hit him with a hammer. “I mean, no. Ryder is a good friend, and we have plenty in common.”

  Lucien’s gaze speared Sammy. “Ah, I see. A romantic liaison, perhaps.”

  He frowned. “No. Ryder isn’t gay. He’s my friend. That’s all.” Sammy glanced at the others. Probably some of them suspected he had the hots for Ryder. Their expressions looked compassionate. He wanted off this topic. “Maybelle, is there any other group business?”

  “Nope. Somebody suggested we could go bowling next month. Shall we?”

  Everybody got into a hot discussion of the pros and cons of tossing balls at pins. Lucien leaned in. “I didn’t mean to offend you about your friend. I must confess it was a bit of a fishing expedition on my part.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Lucien smiled. Like a sunrise. “I guess I wanted to know if you were homosexual.”

  Sammy raised a shoulder. “Now you know.”

  “Do I?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “So that must mean that you are—”

  “Homosexual also.”

  Sammy couldn’t keep from grinning. “I guess I’m glad too.”

  “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  Lucien was really asking him out. The angel and the scarecrow? Really? His heart beat like a drum at a Samhain ceremony. But taking someone to dinner was a big commitment for a college guy. “Sure. I’d love to. We can go dutch. Shall I meet you somewhere?”

  Lucien smiled. “Ah, but I am not Dutch, you see, and therefore I am pleased to pay the bill. I would also be happy to pick you up at your home.”

  Wow. “Thank you. My apartment’s not much.”

  “But it’s yours.”

  Well, hells. The guy understood. The apartment was meager, but Sammy was proud of it. He’d managed to scrape together enough money from his part-time job at the art store to afford it. “Yes, it sure is. I’ll write down the address.”

  “And I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Sometimes—rarely, but sometimes—Sammy did get what he hoped for.

  “Errrrrr.”

  RYDER STOOD near the back of the restaurant and watched his friends walk out the front door. No, make that friend. Sammy. Who the hell was the guy with Sammy? He looked like an angel. Was he one? Something in those glacial blue eyes made Ryder uneasy. But Sammy looked so happy. Ryder’s stomach clenched. Who wouldn’t be flattered to have that guy hanging on him? And he sure did hang on Sammy. Ryder didn’t have any right to intervene, did he? Sammy was his friend, but they seldom talked about their love lives. Besides, what was his motivation in warning Sammy about the angel-faced man?

  Ryder turned and walked back in the kitchen, where cooks were still rolling out a line of hot plates. He knew exactly what his motivation was in trying to keep Sammy apart from other men, and nobody would be happy about it. In fact, his father would freak out. Still, this angel with the icy eyes bore some investigation.

  Ryder needed to keep Sammy safe.

  Chapter Three

  SAMMY SWALLOWED another mouthful of chicken. The dish had a fancy name, but he thought of it as “divine chicken.” The best thing he ever tasted.

  Lucien drank wine and watched him with a sweet smile on his face. “I think you like that dish.”

  Sammy nodded and took a sip of his sauvignon blanc. He was old enough to order it, barely. He’d never had wine before. An acquired taste for sure, sort of dry and wet at the same time. A little bitter and a little sweet, but he kind of liked it. “This is the best chicken on earth.”

  Lucien laughed, that tinkling-bells sound. “I’m delighted you’re enjoying it.”

  Sammy glanced around the elegant restaurant, with its red banquettes and white tablecloths. “This place is awesome, but you didn’t have to bring me someplace so fancy.” He lowered his voice. “It must cost an awful lot.” He was glad Lucien hadn’t agreed to split the check. His meager budget couldn’t have stood it.

  “It’s all right. My family is rich. I enjoy spending money on you. But your family must be supernatural. Are they not wealthy?”

  Sammy shook his head and swallowed again. “No. My dad’s, you know, special”—he glanced around to be sure no one was close enough to hear—“but he lived as a regular person for so many years, I think he likes it. He’s a hardworking guy with a lot of kids to raise. I try not to be more of a burden.”

  “I’m sure you’re not.”

  Sammy shrugged. “I’m a pretty sorry excuse for a witch. I can’t do anything worthwhile that might help the family. So I got some scholarships for school, and I work to pay for my other expenses.”

  Lucien leaned forward. “That’s admirable. But surely you have talent.”

  “I paint.”

  “Yes, and very well, but I meant supernatural talent.”

  “Me too. I’m a prophetic painter. I paint stuff, and it happens. I painted you.”

  Lucien’s blue eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Yes, I painted you walking into art class, and the next day, there you were. The stuff always comes true, but it never amounts to much. No earthquake predictions or villains apprehended. I can’t figure out what it’s worth.” Sammy sipped his wine. It was tough admitting what a crap witch he was.

  Lucien laughed. “Ah, I see. Not to worry. You’re an excellent painter. That will be your path to greatness.”

  A strong sneeze sounded from the third chair. Aloysius putting in his two cents. The cat was cracked on the subject of Lucien.

  Lucien stared at Aloysius with a raised eyebrow. “He does have very definite opinions. What do you suppose he wants with you?”

  “No idea, honestly.” He shrugged. “He’s nice to have around, though.”

  They chatted their way through the flambéing of the cherries jubilee. Sammy really enjoyed Lucien’s stories about life in the “old country,” where a lot of humans still believed in witchcraft. “We have to be very careful not to be found out.”

  Sammy swallowed the last of his dessert. He could barely believe he was eating so grandly. “In my witchcraft class, Killian taught us that hundreds of thousands of people were burned or drowned as witches during the heyday of the witch trials. But he told the young witches con
fidentially that very few of the people killed were actually witches. Mostly humans killed each other.”

  “You actually have a class on witchcraft? How extraordinary.”

  “Yes, Killian is a terrific teacher. He teaches the class as history, and none of the humans really believe it. It’s fun for them and kind of titillating. Plus Killian’s really popular with the students, so I think the university lets him teach whatever he wants. The class is guaranteed to be a sellout.” Sammy grinned. “Of course, a lot of that is girls who want to sit in the front rows and drool over him. He’s gorgeous.”

  “And he’s gay, I understand.”

  “Yep. Married to a physics professor.”

  Lucien’s beautiful brows rose. “That must be a story!”

  “It is.”

  “How about I pay the check and you tell me on the way home?”

  “Deal. You sure I can’t pay?” Sammy held his breath.

  “No, thank you. It’s my pleasure.”

  Sammy laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s mine.”

  Lucien hailed a cab. A half hour later, they were standing in the hall outside Sammy’s apartment. Hmm. He was almost afraid to ask after his strikeout with Arnold. “You want to come in?”

  Lucien smiled, and Sammy swore his teeth gleamed in the dim light. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  “Like I said, it’s not much.” He turned the key in the lock, flipped on the lamp on the side table by the door, and stepped aside for Lucien to enter.

  Aloysius slithered off Sammy’s neck and huffed his way to the sleeping area. Lucien walked a few steps into the room and gazed around. The beautiful, impeccably dressed man made the surroundings look even shabbier.

  Sammy walked over to the little kitchenette. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got some iced coffee. Sorry. No wine. I don’t usually drink it.” Usually? Try never.

  “Iced coffee would be lovely.” Lucien went to the couch and sat. Sammy hoped he missed the lumps.

  Sammy grabbed his two best glasses, washed them for the occasion, and poured some cold black coffee into them, then filled the rest of the glass with milk and ice.

  He carried the glasses back to Lucien, who patted the space next to him. Okay, things looked promising.

  They clinked glasses. Lucien sipped. “Nice. Quite refreshing.”

  “Glad you like it. I’m kind of a coffee-holic.”

  Lucien put an arm behind Sammy on the back of the couch. “I’m very anxious to see the painting you say you made of me.”

  “Oh, okay.” Sammy felt a little weird. He didn’t usually show his prophetic paintings to anyone, except once to Killian. He set his glass on the rickety coffee table and went over to the stack of canvases he had propped in a corner. He moved a couple aside.

  “Hey, what’s that one?”

  Sammy looked down at the picture of the gorgeous human he now knew was Ryder. “My friend Ryder.” He held up the painting.

  “The man we met last night?”

  Sammy nodded.

  “That’s not your usual painting style, is it?”

  “No. My prophetic paintings are done in absolute realism, as you can see.”

  “Oh. I didn’t understand that this was a prophetic painting. What is the significance?”

  Sammy sighed. “Like I told you, none at all. My friend changed a lot during the summer, and this painting showed me that. BFD. I saw him in person an hour later.”

  Lucien smiled. “Don’t be discouraged. The painting is quite beautiful.”

  Sammy pawed through the stack. “Here’s yours.” He held up the painting.

  “Amazing. You painted this before we met?”

  “Yep.” He chuckled. “I thought I had a guardian angel come to look after me.” A soft growl sounded from his bed. “Shut up, Al.”

  “Your cat, uh, familiar seems very temperamental.”

  Sammy flashed a look at the ball of fur. “Yeah.”

  Lucien nodded his golden head toward the painting. “Didn’t you paint that recently? Is it already dry?”

  “The prophetic paintings dry immediately, like they want to make the prophecy permanent.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Sammy set down the painting and went back over to sit beside Lucien. He picked up his coffee. “It is interesting. I wish it was good for something. I mean, I get this for a power, but I can’t do a lot of other stuff witches do. I can’t discern when someone else is a witch. I didn’t know you were one until Chen told me. I can’t call lightning, although I know most witches can’t do that. I can’t make Aloysius invisible, although he does a good job of that himself.”

  “So what is Killian’s familiar doing with you?”

  “Answer that and you win the grand prize. None of us knows. Except Aloysius, I guess.”

  Lucien slowly sipped. Watching those full lips on the edge of the glass made Sammy’s cock sit up and wave.

  Lucien put down his glass and leaned back on the couch. “I love that you thought I was your guardian angel.” He reached out a slim, impossibly elegant hand and touched Sammy’s cheek. “I’d like it if you thought of me that way. I feel very protective of you. I’d like to shelter you from everyone—except me.” His laugh was soft and low, making nerves in Sammy’s groin tingle.

  Lucien slid two slim fingers from Sammy’s cheek to his lips, where Lucien touched very gently, then smoothed his way back and forth, back and forth. Boy, maybe that long-awaited kiss might happen.

  The angel leaned in toward Sammy. He slipped his hand from Sammy’s lips, around his head, and pulled firmly so Sammy met those perfect lips halfway—and then they touched. Sammy now had a new definition of sweetness. Soft, just a tiny bit cool, with a flavor like strawberries. No kidding. Actual strawberries. Was it flavored lip moisturizer? Too real.

  Lucien caressed Sammy’s lips with his tongue, and the tingling flashed straight to Sammy’s cock. Of course, he was so sex deprived, it didn’t take much to get him going. Still, for a guy who hadn’t been kissed in months, he’d leaped straight into the advanced class.

  Lucien tangled his fingers in Sammy’s hair and slanted his head. His lips might be cool, but his tongue blazed like a hot brand and demanded entrance into Sammy’s mouth. Sammy wasn’t fighting. He parted his lips, and Lucien dived inside, pulling him tight against his lean angel’s body.

  Sammy felt more than heard his own moan. The smell of strawberries and sex filled his head, and Lucien slipped his tongue in and out of Sammy’s mouth, mimicking the exact motion he’d like to have performed on other parts of his body.

  Whew. This was moving fast. Sammy’s head felt muddled, but his body screamed for sex.

  Lucien slid his hand down to Sammy’s crotch, and he cupped what had to be one giant bulge in Sammy’s jeans and started to squeeze. Holy crap! Each grip sent hot flashes straight to the boiling mass of cum in Sammy’s balls.

  Lucien pulled back and stared into Sammy’s eyes. Sammy tried to look alert, but his lids felt really heavy, like he was on the world’s best drug. Lucien grinned and kept squeezing where it did the most good. One more minute and Sammy was going to come. His balls tightened and readied for a big blow. Have to get a grip.

  Lucien whispered, “I think you need to be sucked. That penis feels very neglected.”

  That was so true. Being sucked sounded like the best of all possible activities. Sammy wanted it. He needed it. Why was some little voice in his head chanting No, no, no, no?

  “Errrrrrrr.” A growl echoed from behind him.

  Damn the voice. Damn the cat. Sammy grabbed Lucien’s head and pulled him in for another hot kiss. Their tongues tangled, and Sammy felt tugging on his zipper. He reached down to unbutton his fly and… shit. He felt weird. Like he was cheating or something, which was stupid and a leftover pipe dream. His inner being might be conflicted, but man, his cock was not. That rod wanted it bad. Ooh, cool air on his little witch. Wow. Hot breath. He opened his eyes and saw the pale gold of Lucien’s hair drap
ing over his lap. Lucien seemed anxious. It was a good thing witches didn’t need condoms. The breath got hotter and moister. This was it. Oh, wow….

  Sammy’s body jerked as Lucien’s wet tongue connected with his cockhead. In one move, Sammy backed up two feet on the couch. “Sorry. I… I think I shouldn’t do this. I mean, I think it’s too soon. You know? I mean, I want it a lot. But I just met you and….” What in hells was he doing?

  Lucien’s arched brows drew together over his pale blue eyes. His chest rose. Then gradually his face returned to its luminous, beatific expression. “Of course. I understand completely. I didn’t mean to rush things. But it’s your fault, being so very irresistible.”

  Not that Sammy had ever noticed. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding.” Especially when Sammy didn’t understand himself.

  “I should go, or we are likely to wind up right back in that position, don’t you think?”

  Talk about torn. Sammy’s cock screamed at him not to be an ass. The most gorgeous witch on earth had tried to suck him off, and he was demurring. Completely nuts. “Okay, I guess so.”

  Lucien stood, his beautiful black slacks slightly tented over his erection. Sammy’s mouth watered. He loved sucking. The feel of smooth, hard flesh stretched under his tongue did it for him. Lucien was European, so he would be uncut. Sammy could work his tongue under the foreskin and—shit, he had to quit this. Decide what you want, idiot!

  “Errrrr.” Damn the cat.

  Lucien started toward the door, and Sammy stood. Maybe to call him back. Apologize. Sammy might never get to see Lucien again after this stunt. He hurried after him.

  Lucien turned at the door. Sammy almost bumped into him. Lucien touched Sammy’s cheek with a graceful hand. “May I see you again soon?”

  Whew. “Yes. I’d love that.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow in class with a proposal for our next date, all right?”

  Sammy grinned. “That would be great.”

  Lucien leaned in and kissed Sammy softly on the lips. “I respect a man who respects himself. After all, we are not animals. Thank you for reminding me.”

  Yeah, well, Sammy felt pretty much like an animal right now. His cock would not give up, and his one pair of good gray slacks looked like the center ring at Barnum & Bailey. “See you tomorrow.”