Chapter 26
twenty-six
The Warlock Knocks
Iwake up somewhere not air-hammocky and blink deliriously. It’s my pillows and blankets, but whatever is under me is not my mattress. I press against it and it gives a little, but it’s still solid.
It’s so dark I can’t see, but I know I’m not in the living room. Bastian’s Bookhenge glows softly, though I can’t see it from where I am.
“Bastian?”
The door creaks open and I see his silhouette outlined by the gentle golden halo of the altar of books.
“You were tired,” he says as he approaches my side.
I sit up and look around with the extra light and see Oscar curled up at the foot of the bed. It’s a raised platform of wood, polished and gold-trimmed like the shelves in the library.
“Did you make this?” I ask, tugging at the fluffy mattress on the box frame.
“I did.”
“For me?” I ask, my throat tight.
“No, for the feline.” He sits on the edge and scratches behind Oscar’s ear, who promptly begins purring. “His bed was small and insufficient.”
I hum. “Of course.”
I do have a bed coming, and a couch, and other regular house stuff, but honestly I kinda like his bed better. It’s big—king sized at least—and long enough that he could fit in it. Is that what he was thinking about when he made it? A place where he could fit beside me?
My heart thunders at the thought, but I shut it down.
If we’re going to do more fooling around, there needs to be a bed big enough for him. That’s all.
“How do you feel,” he asks, turning his attention on me.
“Fine,” I say, taking stock of myself for the first time.
My hip pain is absent.
So is the ache in my shoulder from my rock-climbing incident.
“Actually, I feel better than fine. Some of my regular pain is gone,” I say.
He hums. “Another side effect of dragon spunk, I assume.”
I scoff. “Are you serious or joking? I can’t tell.”
His eyes glitter with gold as he looks at me. “Hunters don’t seek me out simply because I’m other. I have value to them.”
“In your semen?” I ask.
“In many things,” he says. “My body was considered a panacea.”
A darkness consumes his features and suddenly I’m staring at the angry dragon who held me against the wall.
“Hey, I’m not going to use you,” I say, reaching out for his arm.
His shoulders relax a measure, and then he smirks. “I thought that’s what fucking around is all about.”
“Well yes, sexually. But I’m not going to abuse you like that. I mean, it’s great to not feel the aches of my old injuries, but I’m not going to demand your cum every day if you’re not in the mood. This is a mutual thing, and the desire has to go both ways.”
“Silly Kitty,” he says with a chuckle. “You think I would ever refuse your mouth?”
Heat swells in my cheeks and I can’t contain my smile. “Well, don’t assume my mouth is always in the mood, either.”
“I would never.”
He cups my chin and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. The sensation brings back all the memories of…yesterday? I have no idea what time it is.
“Is it tomorrow morning?” I ask.
“It’s today morning, actually,” he says.
I grumble. “You know what I mean.”
My phone is plugged into an outlet on the far side of the room. I push the blanket back and walk to it, noticing I’m not in my clothes from yesterday, but my sleepwear.
“Did you change my clothes?” I ask, shame niggling the back of my mind at the idea of him seeing me fully exposed.
“No, you did.”
“When?”
“Just before you crawled into bed. You were exhausted, in and out of consciousness. I’m not surprised you don’t recall.”
That’s alarming. Dragon cum makes me blackout drunk apparently.
I grab my phone. It’s only five, but I feel refreshed. I guess sleeping twelve hours will do that…
“Did anything else happen?” I ask.
“How do you mean?”
“Did I…say anything?”
He hesitates before replying, “Not really.”
“Not really?”
“You mumbled a few things here and there.”
“Like?” I ask, my anxiety spiking. I know how I get with tequila, and it’s not good. If this stupor was anything like that, who knows what I could’ve said to him.
“Mostly gratitude for the bed, and the shop,” he says with a shrug and I know he’s holding back.
“Bastian. What did I say?”
He strokes down Oscar’s back and looks at me with a smirk. “You said you wanted to suck my dick every day for the rest of your life, and that I tasted like caramel.”
Salted caramel.
God, I remember the flavor so distinctly. It was delicious.
“And that’s all?” I ask.
A BOOM rocks the apartment and a blinding light spears through the shuttered window. I scream and Oscar leaps from the bed with a hiss of his own. Bastian is on his feet in a blink, reaching out for me. I go to his side, and we wait, holding our breath for another event to occur.
But nothing does.
“Stay here,” he says, then walks to the window.
He lifts the glass and unlatches the shutter, then pushes it open.
“Careful,” I murmur as he sticks his head out.
“There’s a magical signature at the front,” he says as he comes back in. He closes the shutters and the window.
“I’ll get dressed,” I say. “Wait for me.”
He closes the door behind him and I quickly slip on sweats and a baggy sweater. Oscar is prowling at the front hallway, growling deep in his throat when I come out. It’s unlike any sound I’ve ever heard from him.
“Maybe you should stay up here,” I say to Bastian.
“I’m far more powerful in my hoard,” he says. “You should be the one staying behind.”
“But if it’s that warlock…” I trail off.
I don’t want to face him alone, especially if that explosion was aimed at my face. What was that? What kind of magic does he have?
Bastian assumes his human form and pulls a fresh shirt on. “If it’s the warlock, I will tear his head from his shoulders.”
I give Oscar a pat. “Stay here, boy.”
“Mreh-eh!” he replies, a hardy “no way.”
“Fine,” I grumble, pulling him up into my arms.
The warlock did seem concerned about Oscar and kept looking at his kennel with a wary glance. Maybe he’s allergic to cats.
Bastian goes first, looking left and right at the bottom of the stairs. He goes to the back door first and places his hand on the frame. It lights up with our joined magic.
“The protection spell is stable,” he reports.
We walk down the hall to the shop, my bare feet pattering on the freshly polished wood. I scritch Oscar’s neck to calm myself as we approach the door. I don’t need to see magic like Bastian does to know something is very wrong.
It’s a bitter scent in the air, like ozone. As if lightning struck here.
Maybe it did.
Bastian puts his hand against the door, and it glows with our joined magic, but it’s broken in several places.
“Compromised,” he reports. “He tried to get in, but my hoard protections rebuffed him. That was the explosion, one of my protection spells triggering.”
“Thank goodness it did,” I say. “How did he find us here?”
Bastian shakes his head. “He must have powerful tracking senses.”
“How did he find us the first time?”
“When I was outside on the dock that day, I was exposed. My hoard hides my magic signature effectively, allowing me to go unnoticed by most. But when I’m away from it, I’m obvious to anyone with magic sensitivity.”
“Do you think he’s still here?” I ask as I walk to the door.
“Unlikely. The defense he triggered would’ve left him injured and disoriented.”
Still, I feel compelled to check. To know if we’re safe right now.
I unlock the door and look outside.
A black scorch mark rips across the concrete in front of the door and into the street. It’s steaming, and little embers of orange heat still glow in chunks of the blasted sidewalk.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper.
“Yes, I do like my privacy,” Bastian says behind me.
“This isn’t going to happen to customers, is it?” I ask.
“No, only those who are magical and do us harm get the lightning,” he says. “Anyone else who means ill will simply get confounded and turn around.”
“Fuck…the sidewalk,” I murmur, realizing this is another setback.
I’ll have to call the city. And heck, what will I say to them? Lightning struck right at my door but didn’t hurt the shop at all? I mean, that’s what it looks like…I hope I don’t have to pay for this.
Movement across the street catches my eye and I focus on it immediately. There’s someone lurking between the alley of the bank and the confectionary, but I can’t make them out.
“Who’s there?” I call, and the figure goes still.
Bastian leans over my shoulder. “I see them,” he growls.
“The warlock from before?” I ask.
“No, someone else. Their magic is bright red. His was opalescent blue.”
“I’m gonna call the cops!” I yell.
The figure doesn’t move, and the longer they’re still, the more they bleed into the shadows.
“I can’t see them anymore,” I whisper.
“They’re camouflaged, but still there,” he says.
I close the door and lock it.
“Spell book. Protections. Now.”