Dre didn’t answer. Admitting to himself that this date meant more to him than any date he’d ever had was one thing. Telling his little brother was probably not wise.
“You are nervous! Dre, the charmer, is nervous about going out with a human. Wait!” Barion furrowed his forehead and the silver patterns on his skin seemed to glow. Where Dre was red, Barion was blue, but they both had the silver marks that announced them as royalty. The patterns on the other demons were either black or—if they were warriors—bronze. “Could he be—?”
“Don’t even go there, Barion.”
“But, Dre, this is important!” Barion pouted, which looked ridiculous on a male his size.
“I said don’t go there. I’m having a date with a human I find interesting and whose scent I like. There’s no need to get all excited.”
“But—”
Dre shook his head. Barion was a romantic at heart and still dreamed of finding his fated mate one day. For demons, that was a bit more difficult than for other paranormals. Shifters recognized their mates by scent, as did vampires. Gargoyles needed to hear their mate’s voice to know, and phoenixes reacted to the aura. They all knew instantly who their mate was. For demons, it was different. For one, it was rare for a demon to find his or her true mate. There were only two dozen couples or ménages who’d had such luck. And a demon couldn’t tell immediately if somebody was their mate. They could find a person’s scent intriguing, like Dre did Sammy’s, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was a hint, nothing more. The only way Dre would know was when he bit Sammy during sex and his skin pattern developed on Sammy afterward. It was a sign that the body of the mate had undergone the necessary transformation to enable him or her to be a demon’s companion. Since that transformation was rumored to be painful, Dre was in no hurry to bite Sammy—not to mention that Sammy would probably appreciate being told about the possible implications of sleeping with a demon.
“Even if he is my mate, this is our very first date. I don’t want to overwhelm him. I just want him to have fun.”
“So, it could be.” The pure longing and hope in Barion’s voice kept Dre from lashing out at his brother. He understood how much his brother longed for a mate because he felt the same. He had just learned to deal with this yearning by ignoring it, which was unhealthy, as he well knew. But at least kept him from becoming depressed because his chances of finding his mate were slim to nonexistent. Sammy was like a ray of sunshine in a dark room, though Dre still refused to be too enthusiastic.
“Yes, it could be. But it’s too soon to tell, and I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m going to enjoy this night, and if he wants to see me again, I’ll work from there.”
Barion sighed. “You’re right. Sorry, Dre. I didn’t mean to be a nag. It’s just—”
“I understand. Really. And you will find your mate, Barion. I’m sure. Now what do you think? The red or the black shirt?”
“The black one. Brings out your eyes,” Barion said after carefully assessing Dre. “You want to look your best when you take him to…?”
“Nice try, little brother. I’m so not going to tell you where I’m taking him. Perhaps afterward.”
“That’s just plain unfair. I promise that I won’t do anything. I just want to know!” Barion whined.
Dre shook his head. “I know you. You promise me now, but the moment I’m gone, you’ll start wondering, then you get impatient after five minutes of waiting. Then you can’t hold back anymore and you follow me, and we both know what’s going to happen then. No. I love you but no.”
Before Barion could voice his protest, Dre closed the last button on his shirt, took his wallet and cut open time and space to step into Sammy’s kitchen. Barion’s high-pitched whine was the last thing he heard before he was greeted by a shriek and the sound of breaking glass.
“Jesus, Dre!” Sammy stood next to the kitchen counter with one hand clutched to his chest. The sweet smell of strawberry marmalade permeated the air. Dre glanced over the kitchen table and saw shards of glass and a red smudge on the floor.
“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Dre was contrite. What a terrible way to begin a date. Sammy rubbed his chest. He wore a white button-down with anthracite-color slacks that hugged his body just right. Dre couldn’t wait to see Sammy from behind. He shook his head to get rid of his inappropriate thoughts when he realized why Sammy was still rooted to the spot like a statue. He was barefoot. Dre rushed over to him, careful not to step into the marmalade, and lifted Sammy out of harm’s way. Before he let him down again, Sammy slung his arms around Dre’s neck, which felt so good that Dre almost toppled over.
“Hi, Dre. It’s good to see you.”
Sammy’s breathless voice was close to his ear. “And don’t worry about the marmalade. It’s store-bought and nowhere near as tasty as the one Mavis and Maribell make.”
Dre chuckled, pressing Sammy closer to his body, unwilling to let him go. “Would I be in trouble if it had been one of their glasses?”
The answer came without hesitation. “Yes. Wasting their cooking is a sacrilege. You’ll understand once you’ve tasted their cookies.”
“I can’t wait.”
Sammy bent his torso back far enough to look into Dre’s eyes. Their lips were so close that Dre thought he could feel the heat coming from Sammy. They both moved forward as if somebody was pulling invisible strings until their lips met in a chaste kiss that sent shudders down Dre’s spine. Sammy gripped Dre’s shoulders like a vise. He was panting.
“Hello, Dre.”
“I think you already said that.”
“Did I?”
“To be honest, I can’t remember.”
Silence fell around them while they kept on staring at each other. Sammy’s weight felt pleasant in Dre’s arms, and he knew he would never tire of his differently colored eyes. The one with the brown iris had flecks of gold that reminded Dre of amber. The blue one was not really blue on closer inspection, but a mixture of gray, a very light blue—like the sky in spring—and some faded green dots. Fascinating and gorgeous.
“I think you can let me down now.”
Dre didn’t like that idea, but he did as Sammy asked. Once Sammy’s feet touched the floor again, he went for the kitchen door.
“Just let me get some shoes. Then I’m going to clean up this mess and we can leave.”
Dre shook his head. “I’ve got a better idea. How about you get ready for our date while I clean up the mess, since I’m responsible for it—more or less.”
Sammy looked at the mix of glittering shards and sticky red mass on the floor then back up to Dre.
“If you insist.”
Dre grinned. “I insist. Now get your sexy ass out of here so I can impress you with my cleaning skills.”
“You think my ass is sexy?”
Sammy sounded more incredulous than teasing, which told Dre he wasn’t used to getting compliments. Well, Dre could definitely remedy that.
“Oh yes. Very sexy. It’s one of the reasons I asked you on a date.” He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis.