Once a rogue, p.9
Once a Rogue, page 9
“Then let’s go there,” said Wesley. “Because I know one more person in New York we can try.”
They got to City Hall as smartly dressed workers were flowing out for the evening. Wesley strode right up to the guard. “Wesley Collins, the Viscount Fine,” he said, and the guard immediately straightened. “I’m here for Alderman Kenzie. I don’t have an appointment, but I need him to see me.”
“I’ll find out if he’s still here, sir.”
Minutes later, Sebastian was following Wesley as the guard led them through a rotunda and down a hall to an office.
“Lord Fine?”
Two white men had come out of the office. One was about Sebastian’s height but stockier, with the same blue-gray eyes and light brown hair as Wesley. The other was a man even taller than Wesley, who looked shockingly like Arthur Kenzie, right down to the jet-black hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders. He had a real smile on his face as he said, “Lord Fine, it is you. How good to see you again.”
Wesley shook his hand. “John Kenzie, how are you?”
Sebastian nearly bit his tongue. This was Arthur’s brother, the poor man who had suffered nightmares because the other paranormals Sebastian had been with in February had delighted in inflicting suffering, regardless of whether the blood magic in their veins made them do it.
“This is my friend, Mr. de Leon,” Wesley was saying. “Sebastian, John here will be America’s newest senator.”
John modestly waved that away, although he looked very pleased. “Elections aren’t for a while, but we’re polling well.” He gestured at the other man. “And you remember Walter.”
“Of course,” Wesley said, shaking the man’s hand. “It seems married life agrees with you.”
Sebastian placed him. This must have been Walter from the wedding Wesley had come for in February, the New York governor’s son.
“Can’t complain, can’t complain,” Walter said. “And how are you, Lord Fine?”
“Having a devil of a time, actually,” Wesley said. “Back in New York on business, and I thought I’d give Arthur a shout while I’m here. But I can’t find the bloody man anywhere.”
“That’s because he’s not in the city,” John said. “Went up to Tarrytown, not far at all. He said he went to look at houses.”
“You sound skeptical,” Wesley observed.
“Because I am,” John said. “He’s still got the apartment on the Upper West Side, and what does an eternal bachelor want with a country house?”
Walter was nodding along. “I didn’t buy mine until Blanche insisted. I offered my contacts, but Arthur didn’t seem interested at all.”
Now that Sebastian knew about Arthur and Rory, a private country house—without prying eyes—could be something Arthur might want. But then, there were plenty of reasons he might have gone, reasons connected to magic that Arthur’s family and non-paranormal friends wouldn’t have known about.
“So why do you think he went to Tarrytown?” Wesley asked.
John and Walter exchanged a glance. John’s eyes then cut down the hall, toward the few other occupants several feet away, before he looked back at Sebastian, then Wesley. “You’re both Arthur’s friends?”
Would Arthur consider Sebastian a friend? That would be nice, but Sebastian wouldn’t count on it.
“Both of us,” Wesley said firmly. “You can tell us your suspicions, John.”
John and Walter exchanged another glance, then John leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’m not supposed to know, you see, because I’m the law and all that. But I’m fairly certain Arthur’s off chasing a bootlegging lead.”
Sebastian stilled. “Really?”
“I’m also not supposed to know his pretty friend, Jade Robbins, runs a speakeasy,” John said. “But look. Prohibition isn’t popular, and you have to let a couple places slip through so the whole thing doesn’t collapse, you understand?”
“You can’t shut the Magnolia down,” said Walter. “Do you know how few places get their gin from Canada, not a bathtub in the Bronx?”
“The secret is safe with us,” Wesley promised. “So Arthur is in Tarrytown right now?”
“Yes, I spoke to him just a few days ago,” said John. “I’m going up myself tomorrow, in fact, taking the boat out before the weather turns.”
“Blanche and I are having a masquerade for Halloween, introducing ourselves to the neighborhood and all that,” said Walter. “You’ll come of course, won’t you, Lord Fine? We’ve got a baronet on the guest list, and I know Blanche would love to have more of her peers.”
“Parties. Hooray,” Wesley said, without any of John’s enthusiasm.
“Excellent, that’s settled then,” said John. “You can come up for the masquerade and see Arthur in one go. He’s staying at the Horseman Inn—I’ll get the information for you.”
A few minutes later, they were walking down the steps of City Hall with the inn’s address and exchange in Wesley’s pocket.
“I come all the way to America and I still can’t avoid parties.” Wesley was frowning. “Frivolities aside, it seems Arthur could be chasing a bootlegging lead in Tarrytown—and here we just met a bootlegger on his way to Tarrytown.”
Sebastian spread his hands. “Coincidence?”
Wesley looked doubtful. “Sir Ellery and Arthur have met through me.”
In February, when Sebastian’s companions had been tormenting John Kenzie and Sebastian himself had been driven by blood magic in his veins. He’d hurt so many people, the last time he’d been in New York; the blood terrors would have countless nightmarish memories to draw from, if they came back.
“It feels too close to be a coincidence,” Wesley was continuing, “like it must be related, but fuck me if I could say how.”
Sebastian pushed his thoughts aside best he could; there could be danger to Wesley and that was what mattered. “And none of it explains the letter you got. At least we have a place to call now.”
They crossed the small park in the shadow of the skyscrapers on Park Avenue. The sun had set somewhere behind the Woolworth Building and the multicolored leaves on the trees nearly glowed, the reds and oranges like pinpoints of flame against the graying twilight.
“How do you know Arthur’s brother?” Sebastian asked, as they walked.
“Met him during that whole mess around the wedding,” Wesley said. “Talked to him at length after my valet was offed, and then spent some time making sure the New York governor understood that a viscount thought John ought to have his backing for senate.”
Sebastian furrowed his brow. “You care about American politics?”
“Christ, no,” said Wesley. “But helping Arthur’s brother was really the least I could do, wasn’t it?”
Sebastian once again had the sense that he was missing something very big. “Because Arthur is your friend?”
“Well, we’re friends now, at least so far as anyone would consider me that. At the time, I also clearly owed him and Rory a very large apology.”
“For what?”
Wesley stopped at the edge of the walkway, just before the park’s end. He turned toward Sebastian, strikingly handsome framed against the autumn leaves in his long wool coat and old-fashioned high collar. Everywhere else Sebastian looked, he saw ghosts of his last trip to New York, but when his gaze fell on Wesley, it was enough to quiet the worst of his memories.
“What do you mean, for what?” said Wesley. “I put my lips where they didn’t belong anymore and upset Rory enough he apparently cracked a ceiling. And I’m fairly certain that was before I showed up at his shop and tried to bribe him to leave Arthur. You know the story.”
Sebastian blinked.
“Oh no.” Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his walking stick. “You don’t know this either.”
“Know what?”
“If I have to talk about it, I need a cigarette.” Wesley was already digging out his pack. “The day you kidnapped Rory Brodigan out of his antiques shop, you already know I was there, in the back room. Have you never wondered why a viscount from London was in a Hell’s Kitchen antiques shop in the first place?”
Sebastian furrowed his brow. “No, I hadn’t,” he said slowly. “But why—”
His eyes widened.
Wesley had come to New York to win back an ex-lover and discovered they had found someone else.
“Arthur is your ex?”
Wesley winced so hard he almost dropped his cigarette.
“I held your ex-boyfriend at gunpoint and you didn’t tell me?”
“I assumed you knew!” Wesley lit the match, blue-and-red fire against the deepening night. “Everything in your world has been new to me since the night you saved my life in London. It didn’t occur to me there could be something you didn’t know.”
This was so much worse than some nameless, faceless man. “I tried to call Arthur today!” Sebastian said. “Was I going to see him again and not know you sailed across the entire ocean for him?”
Oh, Sebastian hadn’t meant to blurt that out, to put his insecurity out there like a Times Square billboard.
But Wesley inhaled and quickly shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.” He blew the smoke back out in a hard stream. “I told you, I was chasing convenience, not passion. Arthur was handsome, and he fit conveniently into my life without me having to change. I’m a shallow prick who thought that was enough.”
“You always find the worst way to see yourself,” Sebastian said heatedly. “Arthur is very handsome, yes, but he is also brave and kind. He helped my family get our siphon back and forgave me for everything when he didn’t have to.”
“You truly don’t have to extol the virtues of my ex-lover,” Wesley muttered.
“But that’s my point,” Sebastian said. “Arthur is worth sailing an ocean for. Have you never stopped to think that maybe you’re not shallow? That maybe you didn’t just want him back because he’s handsome, but because you knew what a good person he was?”
Wesley stared at him. And then, incongruously, he began to smile.
“What?” Sebastian said defensively.
“You, that’s what.” Wesley was shaking his head, smile still in place. “I just told you a story where my every action was thoroughly reprehensible, and yet you’re still trying to find a way to see it where I’m not a complete lout.”
“Because you’re not,” Sebastian said. “You think I could stand being back in New York if I didn’t have you?”
Wesley opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Is that something you don’t know?” Sebastian swallowed. “You only see bad things when you look at yourself, but they aren’t true, Wes. I know they’re not true, better than anyone else.”
Wesley had a funny, almost lost expression on his face. He put the cigarette back to his lips with an unsteady hand. “You should ask me sometime what I see when I look at you.”
“You don’t see a man as handsome as Arthur, that’s for sure,” Sebastian muttered, before he could stop himself.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “You cannot possibly be jealous.”
“Not really.” Sebastian stuck his hands in his pockets. “It’s more that I wouldn’t blame anyone who wanted him back.”
But Wesley only scoffed. “He is a lovely person, I’ll freely admit that. A good friend. But we were terrible together.”
“Really?”
“Wretched,” said Wesley. “He drank like he could drown his demons and I couldn’t see past my own miseries either. We quickly discovered we couldn’t manage a conversation without fighting and ended up mostly ignoring each other. But it was the longest anyone had tolerated me and I assumed that was as good as relationships got. Until I saw him with Rory.”
He shook his head. “It’s night and day to how he was with me. Rory actually makes him happy, the way you—well.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Point being, you are obviously also worth sailing an ocean for, as here I am.”
Oh.
“You should see your face right now,” Wesley said, sounding amused. “You didn’t think of that, did you? Didn’t stop and think, Wesley wanted Arthur back in London the same way he wants his hats in a tidy row, but now Wesley is with me, sailing off wherever I want to go. You do see the difference, don’t you?”
He exhaled, smoke floating away into the yellow glow of the park’s Victorian streetlamp. “And as for you not being as handsome as Arthur, well. I think you ought to know that Arthur came moping to me in London in May because he thought Rory was going to leave him for, and I quote, an obnoxiously handsome man.”
“Really?” Sebastian said, surprised. “Who?”
“Yes, whoever could it have been,” Wesley said dryly. “Who on earth is obnoxiously handsome and was spending time with Rory in London in May—no, don’t guess someone else,” he added, as Sebastian opened his mouth. “It was you, you impossibly attractive sod. So there will be no jealousy out of you. It’s ridiculous and pointless, like all emotions.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to scoff, but he had a small smile. “You just spent ten minutes making me feel better.”
“So?”
“If you really think emotions are ridiculous and pointless, why do you care about mine?”
Wesley narrowed his eyes. But he didn’t seem to have a response to that.
Sebastian held out a hand. “You want me to take the cigarette away?”
“God, yes, please.” Wesley held the cigarette toward him. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t let me make any more assumptions. If you ever want to know anything about me, just ask.”
“I want to know everything about you,” Sebastian admitted, as he took the cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground. “But I’m going to start with how old are you?”
“You truly don’t know your lover’s age?” Wesley said wryly.
Sebastian huffed. “I bet there’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”
“You think so?” said Wesley. “Like what?”
“Um...” What would a man as smart as Wesley not know? “My full name.”
“Juan Sebastián de León y Marin-Torres.”
Sebastian stared. Wesley had even rolled the rr. “How—”
“I asked your brother, of course.” Wesley’s smile was amused. “Darling boy, you might be paranormal, but you’re also Spanish. I am aware there are countries beyond England and that not every culture uses the same naming conventions. Thought the odds were fairly good that there was more to your name.” The smile was still playing on his lips. “But I’m certain you don’t know my full name. We’ve slept together how many times now? And you don’t even know my age.”
Sebastian winced. “This is so embarrassing.”
Wesley only looked more amused. “You’re twenty-seven. I’m thirty-two. So quite a bit older—and taller, while we’re on the subject.”
“How are we on the subject of height?” Sebastian said. “And you’re barely older. Barely taller.”
“Five years and five inches is not barely.”
“Five inches? You’re one inch taller. Two at most.” More like three or even four, but Sebastian didn’t have to say that out loud. “Age and height don’t matter between us anyway.”
“I suppose you might be right,” Wesley said delicately. “After all, none of that ended up mattering last night.”
Sebastian’s cheeks flushed. Hopefully it was dim enough Wesley wouldn’t notice. “We’re not going to talk about that.”
“Why would I ever agree to not talk about it?” Wesley hadn’t stopped looking amused; he’d almost certainly noticed the blush. “I’m not upset with you. I gave you full permission to use your magic on me however you like.”
“The magic that knocked you over last night?” Sebastian said pointedly.
“The magic that flared up to protect me from a restaurant,” Wesley countered, even more pointedly. “I’m also not afraid of you, even with that brooch. The offer stands.”
Sebastian hesitated. He hadn’t used magic on Wesley on purpose since their first night together.
He wanted to. Wesley was so good at sweeping every thought from his mind; he wanted Wesley pinned down and coming apart, so lost in the moment that addictions and harsh thoughts couldn’t reach him. A mind like Wesley’s didn’t turn off easily, but Sebastian could make it happen.
Except, of course, for the brooch that made his magic too strong and unpredictable. If he could just get better control of it—
Sebastian sighed. Maybe he’d get there. Someday. “Let’s go call the inn, yes?”
Chapter Eight
The cab pulled up at their hotel not soon enough for Wesley’s tastes. They were going to call this damn Horseman Inn in Tarrytown, talk to Arthur and Jade, straighten the whole mess out. And then Wesley could get back to the only thing he actually wanted to do with his time, which was fuck Sebastian until he was bliss-drunk and loopy in Wesley’s arms.
What would it take to get him to lose control of his magic again?
Wesley quickened his pace.
But as they crossed through the lobby, a voice called, “Fine!” Major Langford stepped into their path. “Glad I caught you.”
For fuck’s sake. Of course they’d been stopped by one of the only people Wesley couldn’t bring himself to tell to fuck off. “Langford,” he said, with a curt nod. “I didn’t expect to see you again. What are you doing here?”
Christ, he hoped Langford hadn’t actually moved to their hotel. Wesley was perfectly entitled to have anyone he liked in his room at any hour and not explain himself, but Langford was sharp and endlessly suspicious. He did not need to be turning those eyes and suspicions on Wesley’s paranormal lover.
“Planning a tea party,” Langford said sarcastically. “What do you think? I’m in New York on business, and in this lobby because I’m waiting for you.” His eyes flicked past Wesley to Sebastian. “You and your friend, apparently.”
They got to City Hall as smartly dressed workers were flowing out for the evening. Wesley strode right up to the guard. “Wesley Collins, the Viscount Fine,” he said, and the guard immediately straightened. “I’m here for Alderman Kenzie. I don’t have an appointment, but I need him to see me.”
“I’ll find out if he’s still here, sir.”
Minutes later, Sebastian was following Wesley as the guard led them through a rotunda and down a hall to an office.
“Lord Fine?”
Two white men had come out of the office. One was about Sebastian’s height but stockier, with the same blue-gray eyes and light brown hair as Wesley. The other was a man even taller than Wesley, who looked shockingly like Arthur Kenzie, right down to the jet-black hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders. He had a real smile on his face as he said, “Lord Fine, it is you. How good to see you again.”
Wesley shook his hand. “John Kenzie, how are you?”
Sebastian nearly bit his tongue. This was Arthur’s brother, the poor man who had suffered nightmares because the other paranormals Sebastian had been with in February had delighted in inflicting suffering, regardless of whether the blood magic in their veins made them do it.
“This is my friend, Mr. de Leon,” Wesley was saying. “Sebastian, John here will be America’s newest senator.”
John modestly waved that away, although he looked very pleased. “Elections aren’t for a while, but we’re polling well.” He gestured at the other man. “And you remember Walter.”
“Of course,” Wesley said, shaking the man’s hand. “It seems married life agrees with you.”
Sebastian placed him. This must have been Walter from the wedding Wesley had come for in February, the New York governor’s son.
“Can’t complain, can’t complain,” Walter said. “And how are you, Lord Fine?”
“Having a devil of a time, actually,” Wesley said. “Back in New York on business, and I thought I’d give Arthur a shout while I’m here. But I can’t find the bloody man anywhere.”
“That’s because he’s not in the city,” John said. “Went up to Tarrytown, not far at all. He said he went to look at houses.”
“You sound skeptical,” Wesley observed.
“Because I am,” John said. “He’s still got the apartment on the Upper West Side, and what does an eternal bachelor want with a country house?”
Walter was nodding along. “I didn’t buy mine until Blanche insisted. I offered my contacts, but Arthur didn’t seem interested at all.”
Now that Sebastian knew about Arthur and Rory, a private country house—without prying eyes—could be something Arthur might want. But then, there were plenty of reasons he might have gone, reasons connected to magic that Arthur’s family and non-paranormal friends wouldn’t have known about.
“So why do you think he went to Tarrytown?” Wesley asked.
John and Walter exchanged a glance. John’s eyes then cut down the hall, toward the few other occupants several feet away, before he looked back at Sebastian, then Wesley. “You’re both Arthur’s friends?”
Would Arthur consider Sebastian a friend? That would be nice, but Sebastian wouldn’t count on it.
“Both of us,” Wesley said firmly. “You can tell us your suspicions, John.”
John and Walter exchanged another glance, then John leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’m not supposed to know, you see, because I’m the law and all that. But I’m fairly certain Arthur’s off chasing a bootlegging lead.”
Sebastian stilled. “Really?”
“I’m also not supposed to know his pretty friend, Jade Robbins, runs a speakeasy,” John said. “But look. Prohibition isn’t popular, and you have to let a couple places slip through so the whole thing doesn’t collapse, you understand?”
“You can’t shut the Magnolia down,” said Walter. “Do you know how few places get their gin from Canada, not a bathtub in the Bronx?”
“The secret is safe with us,” Wesley promised. “So Arthur is in Tarrytown right now?”
“Yes, I spoke to him just a few days ago,” said John. “I’m going up myself tomorrow, in fact, taking the boat out before the weather turns.”
“Blanche and I are having a masquerade for Halloween, introducing ourselves to the neighborhood and all that,” said Walter. “You’ll come of course, won’t you, Lord Fine? We’ve got a baronet on the guest list, and I know Blanche would love to have more of her peers.”
“Parties. Hooray,” Wesley said, without any of John’s enthusiasm.
“Excellent, that’s settled then,” said John. “You can come up for the masquerade and see Arthur in one go. He’s staying at the Horseman Inn—I’ll get the information for you.”
A few minutes later, they were walking down the steps of City Hall with the inn’s address and exchange in Wesley’s pocket.
“I come all the way to America and I still can’t avoid parties.” Wesley was frowning. “Frivolities aside, it seems Arthur could be chasing a bootlegging lead in Tarrytown—and here we just met a bootlegger on his way to Tarrytown.”
Sebastian spread his hands. “Coincidence?”
Wesley looked doubtful. “Sir Ellery and Arthur have met through me.”
In February, when Sebastian’s companions had been tormenting John Kenzie and Sebastian himself had been driven by blood magic in his veins. He’d hurt so many people, the last time he’d been in New York; the blood terrors would have countless nightmarish memories to draw from, if they came back.
“It feels too close to be a coincidence,” Wesley was continuing, “like it must be related, but fuck me if I could say how.”
Sebastian pushed his thoughts aside best he could; there could be danger to Wesley and that was what mattered. “And none of it explains the letter you got. At least we have a place to call now.”
They crossed the small park in the shadow of the skyscrapers on Park Avenue. The sun had set somewhere behind the Woolworth Building and the multicolored leaves on the trees nearly glowed, the reds and oranges like pinpoints of flame against the graying twilight.
“How do you know Arthur’s brother?” Sebastian asked, as they walked.
“Met him during that whole mess around the wedding,” Wesley said. “Talked to him at length after my valet was offed, and then spent some time making sure the New York governor understood that a viscount thought John ought to have his backing for senate.”
Sebastian furrowed his brow. “You care about American politics?”
“Christ, no,” said Wesley. “But helping Arthur’s brother was really the least I could do, wasn’t it?”
Sebastian once again had the sense that he was missing something very big. “Because Arthur is your friend?”
“Well, we’re friends now, at least so far as anyone would consider me that. At the time, I also clearly owed him and Rory a very large apology.”
“For what?”
Wesley stopped at the edge of the walkway, just before the park’s end. He turned toward Sebastian, strikingly handsome framed against the autumn leaves in his long wool coat and old-fashioned high collar. Everywhere else Sebastian looked, he saw ghosts of his last trip to New York, but when his gaze fell on Wesley, it was enough to quiet the worst of his memories.
“What do you mean, for what?” said Wesley. “I put my lips where they didn’t belong anymore and upset Rory enough he apparently cracked a ceiling. And I’m fairly certain that was before I showed up at his shop and tried to bribe him to leave Arthur. You know the story.”
Sebastian blinked.
“Oh no.” Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his walking stick. “You don’t know this either.”
“Know what?”
“If I have to talk about it, I need a cigarette.” Wesley was already digging out his pack. “The day you kidnapped Rory Brodigan out of his antiques shop, you already know I was there, in the back room. Have you never wondered why a viscount from London was in a Hell’s Kitchen antiques shop in the first place?”
Sebastian furrowed his brow. “No, I hadn’t,” he said slowly. “But why—”
His eyes widened.
Wesley had come to New York to win back an ex-lover and discovered they had found someone else.
“Arthur is your ex?”
Wesley winced so hard he almost dropped his cigarette.
“I held your ex-boyfriend at gunpoint and you didn’t tell me?”
“I assumed you knew!” Wesley lit the match, blue-and-red fire against the deepening night. “Everything in your world has been new to me since the night you saved my life in London. It didn’t occur to me there could be something you didn’t know.”
This was so much worse than some nameless, faceless man. “I tried to call Arthur today!” Sebastian said. “Was I going to see him again and not know you sailed across the entire ocean for him?”
Oh, Sebastian hadn’t meant to blurt that out, to put his insecurity out there like a Times Square billboard.
But Wesley inhaled and quickly shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.” He blew the smoke back out in a hard stream. “I told you, I was chasing convenience, not passion. Arthur was handsome, and he fit conveniently into my life without me having to change. I’m a shallow prick who thought that was enough.”
“You always find the worst way to see yourself,” Sebastian said heatedly. “Arthur is very handsome, yes, but he is also brave and kind. He helped my family get our siphon back and forgave me for everything when he didn’t have to.”
“You truly don’t have to extol the virtues of my ex-lover,” Wesley muttered.
“But that’s my point,” Sebastian said. “Arthur is worth sailing an ocean for. Have you never stopped to think that maybe you’re not shallow? That maybe you didn’t just want him back because he’s handsome, but because you knew what a good person he was?”
Wesley stared at him. And then, incongruously, he began to smile.
“What?” Sebastian said defensively.
“You, that’s what.” Wesley was shaking his head, smile still in place. “I just told you a story where my every action was thoroughly reprehensible, and yet you’re still trying to find a way to see it where I’m not a complete lout.”
“Because you’re not,” Sebastian said. “You think I could stand being back in New York if I didn’t have you?”
Wesley opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Is that something you don’t know?” Sebastian swallowed. “You only see bad things when you look at yourself, but they aren’t true, Wes. I know they’re not true, better than anyone else.”
Wesley had a funny, almost lost expression on his face. He put the cigarette back to his lips with an unsteady hand. “You should ask me sometime what I see when I look at you.”
“You don’t see a man as handsome as Arthur, that’s for sure,” Sebastian muttered, before he could stop himself.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “You cannot possibly be jealous.”
“Not really.” Sebastian stuck his hands in his pockets. “It’s more that I wouldn’t blame anyone who wanted him back.”
But Wesley only scoffed. “He is a lovely person, I’ll freely admit that. A good friend. But we were terrible together.”
“Really?”
“Wretched,” said Wesley. “He drank like he could drown his demons and I couldn’t see past my own miseries either. We quickly discovered we couldn’t manage a conversation without fighting and ended up mostly ignoring each other. But it was the longest anyone had tolerated me and I assumed that was as good as relationships got. Until I saw him with Rory.”
He shook his head. “It’s night and day to how he was with me. Rory actually makes him happy, the way you—well.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Point being, you are obviously also worth sailing an ocean for, as here I am.”
Oh.
“You should see your face right now,” Wesley said, sounding amused. “You didn’t think of that, did you? Didn’t stop and think, Wesley wanted Arthur back in London the same way he wants his hats in a tidy row, but now Wesley is with me, sailing off wherever I want to go. You do see the difference, don’t you?”
He exhaled, smoke floating away into the yellow glow of the park’s Victorian streetlamp. “And as for you not being as handsome as Arthur, well. I think you ought to know that Arthur came moping to me in London in May because he thought Rory was going to leave him for, and I quote, an obnoxiously handsome man.”
“Really?” Sebastian said, surprised. “Who?”
“Yes, whoever could it have been,” Wesley said dryly. “Who on earth is obnoxiously handsome and was spending time with Rory in London in May—no, don’t guess someone else,” he added, as Sebastian opened his mouth. “It was you, you impossibly attractive sod. So there will be no jealousy out of you. It’s ridiculous and pointless, like all emotions.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to scoff, but he had a small smile. “You just spent ten minutes making me feel better.”
“So?”
“If you really think emotions are ridiculous and pointless, why do you care about mine?”
Wesley narrowed his eyes. But he didn’t seem to have a response to that.
Sebastian held out a hand. “You want me to take the cigarette away?”
“God, yes, please.” Wesley held the cigarette toward him. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t let me make any more assumptions. If you ever want to know anything about me, just ask.”
“I want to know everything about you,” Sebastian admitted, as he took the cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground. “But I’m going to start with how old are you?”
“You truly don’t know your lover’s age?” Wesley said wryly.
Sebastian huffed. “I bet there’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”
“You think so?” said Wesley. “Like what?”
“Um...” What would a man as smart as Wesley not know? “My full name.”
“Juan Sebastián de León y Marin-Torres.”
Sebastian stared. Wesley had even rolled the rr. “How—”
“I asked your brother, of course.” Wesley’s smile was amused. “Darling boy, you might be paranormal, but you’re also Spanish. I am aware there are countries beyond England and that not every culture uses the same naming conventions. Thought the odds were fairly good that there was more to your name.” The smile was still playing on his lips. “But I’m certain you don’t know my full name. We’ve slept together how many times now? And you don’t even know my age.”
Sebastian winced. “This is so embarrassing.”
Wesley only looked more amused. “You’re twenty-seven. I’m thirty-two. So quite a bit older—and taller, while we’re on the subject.”
“How are we on the subject of height?” Sebastian said. “And you’re barely older. Barely taller.”
“Five years and five inches is not barely.”
“Five inches? You’re one inch taller. Two at most.” More like three or even four, but Sebastian didn’t have to say that out loud. “Age and height don’t matter between us anyway.”
“I suppose you might be right,” Wesley said delicately. “After all, none of that ended up mattering last night.”
Sebastian’s cheeks flushed. Hopefully it was dim enough Wesley wouldn’t notice. “We’re not going to talk about that.”
“Why would I ever agree to not talk about it?” Wesley hadn’t stopped looking amused; he’d almost certainly noticed the blush. “I’m not upset with you. I gave you full permission to use your magic on me however you like.”
“The magic that knocked you over last night?” Sebastian said pointedly.
“The magic that flared up to protect me from a restaurant,” Wesley countered, even more pointedly. “I’m also not afraid of you, even with that brooch. The offer stands.”
Sebastian hesitated. He hadn’t used magic on Wesley on purpose since their first night together.
He wanted to. Wesley was so good at sweeping every thought from his mind; he wanted Wesley pinned down and coming apart, so lost in the moment that addictions and harsh thoughts couldn’t reach him. A mind like Wesley’s didn’t turn off easily, but Sebastian could make it happen.
Except, of course, for the brooch that made his magic too strong and unpredictable. If he could just get better control of it—
Sebastian sighed. Maybe he’d get there. Someday. “Let’s go call the inn, yes?”
Chapter Eight
The cab pulled up at their hotel not soon enough for Wesley’s tastes. They were going to call this damn Horseman Inn in Tarrytown, talk to Arthur and Jade, straighten the whole mess out. And then Wesley could get back to the only thing he actually wanted to do with his time, which was fuck Sebastian until he was bliss-drunk and loopy in Wesley’s arms.
What would it take to get him to lose control of his magic again?
Wesley quickened his pace.
But as they crossed through the lobby, a voice called, “Fine!” Major Langford stepped into their path. “Glad I caught you.”
For fuck’s sake. Of course they’d been stopped by one of the only people Wesley couldn’t bring himself to tell to fuck off. “Langford,” he said, with a curt nod. “I didn’t expect to see you again. What are you doing here?”
Christ, he hoped Langford hadn’t actually moved to their hotel. Wesley was perfectly entitled to have anyone he liked in his room at any hour and not explain himself, but Langford was sharp and endlessly suspicious. He did not need to be turning those eyes and suspicions on Wesley’s paranormal lover.
“Planning a tea party,” Langford said sarcastically. “What do you think? I’m in New York on business, and in this lobby because I’m waiting for you.” His eyes flicked past Wesley to Sebastian. “You and your friend, apparently.”
