by Casey Wolfe
“Smart.”
Rowan rolled his eyes, having already downed half his drink and looking about ready to chug the rest. “What in the hell are those?” Shaw asked, nodding toward the drinks. He was attempting to make conversation, but he was also genuinely curious.
“River Hound,” Rowan answered. “Don’t ask what’s in it. Where Caleb’s concerned, I’ve found it’s best not to.”
“You’re a riot,” Caleb said. He looked over as a few people got out of a nearby booth, smacking Rowan’s shoulder. “Our table’s open.”
“Grab it before I shoot lightning at somebody.” As Caleb went to do just that, Rowan downed the rest of his drink.
Shaw raised a brow. “That kinda night, huh?”
“What?” Rowan looked at him, apparently catching his meaning as he shook his head. “Oh, no, I’m not really big on drinking. Caleb always insists I have at least one whenever we come out. So, I amuse him, but I’d rather just get it out of the way.”
The bartender gave Rowan a sympathetic smile as he passed over a large mug that smelled of coffee with a whipped foam on top. “Elven coffee?” Shaw guessed. It was a style rather than anything grown or brewed by the elves. The coffee didn’t matter so much as the fact it had starleaf steeped in it, a plant common in regions the elves favored. It added a magical spark to the beverage, which those sensitive to such things would draw on.
“Natural energy boost.” Rowan smiled over his mug as he took a drink. Shaw would take that as a positive.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, tilting his head toward where Caleb sat waiting.
“I guess since you went to so much trouble to stalk me…” Rowan teased.
“Stalking is completely the wrong way to put it.” When Rowan raised a brow in challenge, Shaw explained, “I did a standard check after our encounter. For the report, you know?”
“Nice try. But, curious all the same.”
“What’s to be curious about? You’re attractive. I was intrigued.”
“I’m also a mage.”
“So?”
Rowan gave him a skeptical look and walked away.
Shaw followed. “Look, just because I’m an inquisitor doesn’t mean I have some…hatred for magicae. I’ve nothing against any of you. I’m just doing a job.”
Rowan turned to him, those violet eyes glinting when the low bar lighting hit them exactly right. They were just as enchanting as that first time they met. And like then, Shaw silently willed the man into seeing that what he said was true. After what seemed like an eternity, Rowan consented. “Have a seat.”
Shaw grinned as he slid into the booth across from Rowan and Caleb.
“You’re not from around here,” Rowan noted.
“Did the accent give me away?” Shaw joked, watching Rowan smirk a little in amusement. “My family’s from Rouvalon. Moved to Calagon as a teenager.” He spoke of the countries across the ocean from Osterian. “And here I am now.”
“Always wanted to go to Rouvalon,” Caleb mentioned, taking a sip of his drink.
“Beautiful country,” Shaw said. “I miss it sometimes. The wilds here seem very similar from what I’ve seen.”
“The Sacred Timber is lovely this time of year,” Rowan said fondly. “But, I have to say, autumn’s the best. The colors are gorgeous.”
“You grew up here?” Shaw asked, more than curious about Rowan. He was intriguing in a way that Shaw couldn’t explain.
“I did. Raised in the Timber.” Rowan’s fingers played with his mug, shadows crossing his face. “My parents died when I was ten—car accident—so, my grandmother raised me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Shaw couldn’t imagine being a young boy losing a parent, let alone both at once. It wasn’t like he had a stellar relationship with his folks these days. Once they’d decided to return to Rouvalon and he’d chosen to stay behind in Calagon, it had caused a rift. But, growing up the way he had—poor, and barely scraping by—would have been miles harder without them there, that was for certain.
Rowan raised a shoulder. “I had a good life out there. Gram taught me everything she knew about magic. By the time I went to apply for apprenticeship with the Everstrand Guild, I was able to test out of a lot of the basic courses.” The corner of Rowan’s mouth ticked up. “Guess that’s how I pissed a lot of people off, passing my apprentice tests and becoming a journeyman by eighteen.”
“Seriously?” Shaw’s brows rose. “Isn’t that supposed to take until you’re like twenty, twenty-one?”
“Yup,” Caleb answered for him, clapping Rowan on the shoulder. “Became the youngest mage with a masters, and then he decided that wasn’t good enough, so he had to go and get a second.”
“Two masters?”
Rowan smirked at him. “I thought you did your homework, Inquisitor,” he teased.
Shaw chuckled, pleased that he had made Rowan relax enough to joke around. “A standard check wouldn’t come back with something like that. Though your website mentioned the masters in enchantment. I actually swung by the shop earlier, but you were already closed.” He shrugged. “Asked around and somebody told me you usually come here after you close.”
“Well, it’s not really a big secret where we hang out,” Caleb admitted. He readjusted himself in the corner as he subtly pressed his scent into the cushions, essentially claiming the booth.
Rowan nodded in agreement before answering Shaw’s original question. “Two masters for now. Hoping for the third here shortly.”
“Was Enchantment your first?” It was the School of Magic that covered everything from charms and wards to imbuing various magics into weapons.
“Yup,” Rowan confirmed. “I fixed the levitation charms under the Guild.”
Shaw’s eyes widened. “You…? The floating rock out there is floating because of you?”
Rowan attempted to shrug it off, but there was no missing the slight curl to his lips. “I can’t take all the credit. The Guild has been floating for almost a hundred and fifty years. I just shored up all the enchantments that were losing power, fixed the wards, that sort of thing.”
“He’s being modest,” Caleb said. “If he hadn’t done it, that thing would probably be in the Grey Tides by now.”
“I may have found a fault or two,” Rowan conceded. He took another sip of coffee. “Mastered in Primal Magic after that.” Journeymen could show proficiency with a few of the elements, but a mage had to show mastery of all to get a distinction for it.
“How’d you do that?” Shaw snarked. “Find a new element?”
Rowan barked out a laugh. “I set up a battlemage test. Except it was scaled down to focus solely on Primal magic.”
“That’s still impressive. Those tests are no joke.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It was a civilian version. No one was shooting at me or flinging curses. It was me against dummies and stuff like that.”
“Doesn’t make it any less impressive,” Shaw insisted, toasting him with his glass, before taking a swig.
“Not as much as anyone who passes the real thing. And to think they don’t even get the masters out of it.” Because of their military status, battlemages weren’t allowed to hold membership in a guild. That meant that they couldn’t hold any titles—be it apprentice to master, or beyond.
“So, you’re basically a badass,” Shaw mused.
Caleb laughed, choking on his drink.
Rowan made a face at him and groused, “Thanks.”
“I mean, you’ve got amazing skills,” Caleb said. “But I’d never use that word to describe you.”
“Why not?” Shaw was curious. Friends usually gave the best insight into people.
“Badass has the implication of being a fighter. Ro’s a lover.” Caleb threw Shaw a wink.
Rowan huffed.
“Come on, now,” Caleb insisted. “Nerd is a better word for you.”
Rowan muttered under his breath, “Not arguing there.” Shaw was grinning, and it caught Rowan’s eye
because he asked, “What about you? What’s your story?”
Shaw raised a shoulder. “Nothing quite so interesting, I’m afraid. Brand new to Everstrand. And, well, utterly bored out of my mind, to tell the truth. I don’t know anyone here. Don’t really know the city yet. Just…lonely, honestly.”
“So, you pick a couple magicae to hang out with?” Caleb baited at the same time Rowan inquired, “Why come here if you don’t know anyone?”
Shaw’s fingers drummed on the table. “Suppose it was time for a change. Shadewind was boring.” He spoke of Calagon’s capital. “My friends were going their own way; my only family moved back to Rouvalon. It seemed like…an adventure.”
That made Rowan smile a bit. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Rowan took a drink, seeming to mull everything over. “Why the Inquisition?”
“Easy enough job to get being law enforcement. I kind of did this all on a whim and they were hiring.” It was more complicated than that, but this was neither the time nor place to get into it—if ever.
“We need to find you a better job,” Caleb concluded.
Shaw laughed. “I’ll take it,” he replied honestly. “You think I like being around those bigots all day? It’s enough to drive a man to drink.” He toasted them with his glass pointedly, finishing it off.
“Here, here.” Caleb returned the gesture, throwing his own drink back.
The tone of the place had changed, slipping into a more lively late night atmosphere. Even the music had moved from mellow tunes to something with more kick. “Is that…?” Shaw’s brows scrunched together, head tilting. “Armored Night?”
“Hell yeah, it is.” Caleb was enthusiastic about it, while Rowan rolled his eyes.
“Not a fan?” Shaw asked.
“They’re a bit much for me.” Rowan’s reply was mild; the side-eye he gave Caleb—who was bobbing his head—was anything but.
“I can go put something better on,” Shaw offered. “What do you like?”
“Anything that takes it down a decibel?”
“So, trollhop’s out then.”
Rowan threw him a look like he was contemplating setting Shaw on fire with his mind. Shaw threw his hands up, though the fact he was laughing was likely not convincing.
“Try the local section,” Caleb suggested. “Lots of good stuff to choose from.”
Shaw discovered that Caleb wasn’t kidding. The song selector had a whole section devoted to Osterian-based bands of all types. Staying away from shrieker and trollhop, Shaw instead found the rock, figuring folk wasn’t something this crowd was going to stand for.
“I hope you like Hex,” Shaw said when he returned.
“Perfect!” Caleb beamed, and Shaw was happy to see Rowan approved as well. “We’re gonna be seeing them at the Equinox Festival. Bunch of the local bands play here, too. You should check them out sometime.”
At least they didn’t have to wait long for his selections to start playing. Caleb literally howled. “Shaw, this is the best!”
“So, let’s dance.”
Caleb practically shoved Rowan out of the booth. Rowan stumbled and Shaw caught his arm. He grinned up at Rowan, watching those vibrant eyes of his.
“After you,” Shaw mused.
Rowan licked his lips and nodded, trailing behind Caleb, who was already swaying to the pounding beat.
Once they were out on the floor proper, Rowan offered him a little smile, body starting to move. Shaw had never truly been good at dancing, but he liked to do it anyway. He was blocky in his movements, while his two dancing partners moved like sinew. They were liquid grace, and rather enchanting. Still, his focus was drawn to Rowan.
The song was about magic—apropos, given current company—and made mention about casting spells on the listener.
Shaw reached out, placing a hand on Rowan’s waist, making him freeze a moment, eyes flashing as he looked at Shaw. Then Rowan smiled, dancing closer to him. Shaw breathed out in relief, allowing himself to become lost in the music. Rowan was absolutely hypnotizing. Shaw pressed closer, his hands flaring possessively over Rowan’s hips.
He felt a back against his—Caleb swaying to the music behind him—but Shaw only had eyes for Rowan. It was bewitching—as cliché as it sounded. Their gazes locked and Shaw didn’t release him, emotion bubbling to the surface and threatening to burst from his chest.
Both of Shaw’s selections passed before he realized it—when had the song changed? At least Rowan appeared just as dazed, both of them shaken out of it by Caleb. He was grinning from ear to ear. Shaw figured had his tail been out, Caleb would have been wagging it furiously.
“Good choices, Shaw. Let’s get some more drinks!”
Shaw smiled momentarily, eyes cutting over to Rowan, who was flushed as he pulled away. “Yeah,” Shaw answered, “sounds great.”
Shaw got another ale, and Rowan another elven coffee. Caleb’s new drink was even more colorful than the last. It was bright purple, but as Shaw looked closer, he saw blue swirling inside. Caleb smirked knowingly. With the tap of his finger to the glass, it came alive with pinpricks of shimmering light, the entire drink appearing to be a rotating galaxy.
“Wow!”
“Nice, huh? One of the mages at the Guild invented it. Called a galaxy shot.”
“Appropriate name. What’s it taste like?”
Caleb wiggled his brows, smiling over the glass. “Magic.”
Rowan shook his head, amused. “Acai berry and blueberry with vodka,” he supplied, “and a pinch of magic. It’s in a dissolving capsule they add in.”
“Thought you didn’t like to drink,” Shaw said.
“Don’t. But, kind of had to try it when they created it. Horus, the bartender, makes it with half the liquor for me, and it tastes pretty great.”
Caleb was licking his lips. “So awesome. Oh, watch this.” He blew out a breath, little sparkles coming from his mouth to float in the air. They twinkled a moment before dying out. “An unintended side effect, but really freakin’ cool.”
“Agreed.” Shaw was impressed. “Might have to try one of those later. I’m more an ale man than cocktails, but…”
“Worth it at least once.”
Shaw was used to being able to talk with practically anyone. At the same time, it was far more rare to find people he truly connected with. He could fake it—or coerce it—but the real thing was a different story. Whatever it was about these two, he was feeling it.
Granted, Rowan had his attention for entirely different reasons, but Caleb was an interesting character in his own right.
It was getting late, and Shaw could tell the pair were winding down. Figuring it was now or never, Shaw leaned forward across the table. When Rowan met his gaze, Shaw said, “Come back to my place.”
Rowan froze. “I don’t kn—”
Caleb shoved him roughly. “Go,” he encouraged with a goofy grin.
Rowan huffed at his friend before looking unsurely back at Shaw. “I’m not… I don’t just…”
Deciding to save him, Shaw assured Rowan, “No expectations.” Taking a chance, he reached out and laid his hand over Rowan’s. “Coffee and more talking.”
Rowan licked his lip, biting it a moment. The way his head was angled, his violet eyes gazed back at Shaw from under his lashes. Shaw inhaled sharply, knowing he wasn’t imagining the heat there. “And if I want more than that?”
Shaw swallowed. “Whatever you want.”
That made Rowan grin slyly. “Let’s get going.”
“Call me in the morning.” Caleb leered, not even complaining when Rowan punched him in the shoulder.
Shaw was already standing, offering a hand. Rowan’s expression softened and he accepted, lacing their fingers together. Caleb’s laughter followed them out.
BECAUSE SHAW DIDN’T have his own transportation, he had to flag a cab, and Rowan followed on his dirt bike since he didn’t want to leave it at the bar overnight. “Would have been nice if you ha
d room on the back of that thing,” Shaw mentioned, nodding at the bike that Rowan sat straddling at the curb.
He smiled up at Shaw. “If you weren’t so built, we might have been able to squeeze on.” He looked Shaw over from head to toe, pointedly.
“I don’t hear any complaints.”
Rowan laughed, shaking his head. He gestured for Shaw to lead the way. “Shall we?”
The apartment building was in the Southern District, overlooking the bay where the ships came in. It was unsurprising that an inquisitor would pick a home so close to the temple. It had been tactically placed, the Order wanting to keep a watchful eye over the comings and goings of the city. Rowan chose to ignore the temple he could see in the distance, instead focusing on the man he’d decided to follow home.
In the elevator, Rowan looked over at Shaw leaning against the side. “I don’t just go home with people like this, you know.”
“You don’t really seem the type,” he agreed. Shaw tilted his head. “So why’d you come?”
Rowan lifted a shoulder, looking away. He followed Shaw off the elevator when they arrived at the fifth floor. “Guess I’m curious.”
“Well, I did say no expectations,” Shaw reminded him, slotting the key in the lock.
“I know.” When the door opened, Rowan pushed Shaw through it, kicking the door closed behind them. He captured Shaw’s lips with his own, intent clear as he pressed against him. Shaw’s arm wrapped around his waist, hand coming up to tangle in his hair, kissing back just as fiercely. “I might have a few, though,” Rowan gasped as he dragged his lips away.
“You won’t hear any objections from me.” Shaw’s eyes were slightly glazed over as he looked up at Rowan.
Decided, Rowan walked Shaw backward. It was a studio apartment, so there was no hunt for the bed that was tucked behind a slatted room divider. With a little shove, he sent Shaw back onto it, both of them grinning like complete fools.
Shaw was infinitely more attractive out of that inquisitor uniform. He was all muscle underneath a tight gray long-sleeve shirt. His jeans were loose-fitting and hung low on lean hips, and his hiking boots, Rowan had noticed, were covered in dry mud.