“That’s enough,” Alistair snapped.
Philip didn’t look in his direction. “I think that’s Sam’s decision, not yours.”
Sam finally remembered to close his mouth. Two men—two familiars—were arguing over him?
“No,” he said. “I mean, thank you? But Alistair and I are sort of dating?”
Alistair folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not ‘sort of.’” He grimaced. “Unless that’s what you want, obviously.”
“We are dating,” Sam corrected.
“You could still use a familiar, though,” Philip countered. “Surely you don’t want to spend the rest of your life washing our dishes.”
Sam blinked. “I…hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. Witch-familiar pairs were always in need, and as such the pay would be…he wasn’t sure exactly, but definitely enough to afford his own place. He hadn’t really thought about bonding with anyone since Alistair was so clearly opposed. The hexes he charged wouldn’t be as strong if he bonded with Philip, but it was still a better option than anything he’d been offered so far.
Philip smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Think about it.”
Reinhold cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. “Sam, I brought your suit with me.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, grateful for any reason to exit this uncomfortable conversation.
“You can use my room to change,” Alistair said. “I want to talk to Wanda, so you go first.”
Reinhold had hung his suit in the coat check, so Sam retrieved it and went to Alistair’s room. He’d never been inside before, so he paused for a moment to look at the space Alistair lived and slept in.
Alistair’s room didn’t match the rest of The Pride in any shape or form. The undecorated walls were blue, a shade that didn’t compliment any of the furniture. The table, lamp, bookcase, bed, and chair were entirely mismatched, giving the impression they’d been carelessly selected from whatever was on hand. It looked like a temporary space, somewhere he’d only meant to stay in for a little while.
The bookcase was crammed with volumes, most of which seemed to be murder mysteries with titles like Whose Body? or Death on the Links. The battered table was almost bare except for a few objects. One was a framed photo of a handsome young man in uniform, accompanied by a cheetah.
Forrest and Alistair. Sam picked up the photo and studied the man. It was wrong to compare them, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel dismay over how gorgeous Forrest had been. Trim, fit, chiseled jaw: everything Sam wasn’t.
Except alive. How stupid was it to envy a dead man?
Sam put the photo down quickly. The only other things on the table were a pair of identification tags from the army with Alistair’s name on them, and a small box. Sam opened it and found himself looking at a Distinguished Service Cross. A protective hex was worked into the bronze, and Alistair’s name on the reverse side.
“What I am is lucky,” Alistair had said, when Sam called him a hero.
There was a ring in the box as well, tucked under the medal. Had it belonged to Forrest?
Sam put the box down, feeling suddenly guilty for snooping. He wanted to know more about Alistair, but this wasn’t the way to go about it.
He dressed as quickly as he could. As he was doing up his cuffs, there came a knock at the door. “Are you decent?” Alistair called.
“Come in,” Sam replied, as he set about tying his bow tie.
Alistair stepped inside…and his eyes widened. He shut the door behind him and let out a low whistle. “You might be decent, but you’re inspiring some very indecent thoughts right now.”
Sam felt his cheeks heat. “It’s a nice suit,” he mumbled.
“It looks wonderful on you.” Alistair sauntered across the room, his amber eyes very blatantly tracing Sam’s figure from top to bottom. Sam’s face was scalding now—no one had ever looked at him that way. A part of him wanted to hide, and another part was starting to respond to the heat in Alistair’s gaze.
Alistair licked his lips hungrily, before leaning down and whispering in Sam’s ear. “Would you like me to help you out of it later?”
Oh God. Sam’s heart pounded, and a tent was rapidly forming in the fitted trousers. “Yes.” His voice came out in an embarrassing squeak. “If you—if you want to.”
“Very much.” Alistair drew back and met his gaze. “But it’s also about what you want. Mostly about that.” He ran his fingers across Sam’s jaw in a caress. “I’m going to take my time with you, because you deserve it.”
Sam wasn’t even sure what Alistair meant by that, but he was still as hard as he’d ever been in his life. Their plans for the evening seemed suddenly far off and unimportant, or at least a lot less important than the bed in the corner.
Alistair stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to make a mess of all Joel’s hard work. Maybe you should step out while I change?”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Sam said, and went to the door. As he shut it behind him, he caught a glimpse of skin as Alistair stripped off his shirt.
He really, really hoped they’d get lucky and be able to make an early evening of it.
They arrived at The Black Rabbit sometime around midnight.
Wanda allowed them to borrow her car, and Alistair rode in the back again while Doris drove. She wore a red gown, cut dramatically low in the back. Its color was stunning against her brown skin, and the lack of sleeves showed off her muscular arms to good effect. She’d be turning heads tonight.
As would Sam. He’d looked so surprised when Alistair flirted with him. His horrible family had probably kept him from dating.
Fur and feathers, Alistair wished they were going out for a night on the town, and not as part of an attempt to figure out what Eldon had gotten himself into. Gambling bored Alistair to tears, which hadn’t made him very popular in the army, but there were plenty of nightclubs to choose from. Some dancing, some drinking, some necking in a discreet corner…
As soon as all this was over, they’d do that. Assuming he got the chance.
Damn Philip. Did he want to quit bartending and strike out on his own, taking Alistair’s witch with him? Or was he just being a jerk?
Or, maybe his brother just saw an opportunity to bond with a friend he liked, a friend who could use the new jobs that would open to him once he had a familiar. Alistair couldn’t exactly complain since he’d told everyone right from the start that he’d never bond with a witch again. Had he really expected Sam to stay unbonded for no real reason?
Philip and Sam would bond, then go into business for themselves. Alistair would still see Sam around, of course, but it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence. Eventually Sam would drift out of Alistair’s life just like everyone else.
Since he’d utterly failed to avoid developing feelings for Sam, the only alternative seemed to be to enjoy things while they lasted. He wouldn’t let it get too serious, would keep in mind that their relationship was as temporary as anything else in Alistair’s life.
The car slowed as they reached their destination. “That’s it,” Doris said with a nod.