Wycke and Piers resumed their walk, hand in hand. “I’m sorry you’re only in town a few days,” Piers murmured.
“So am I.” Should Wycke invite Piers to his hotel room? Or would doing so after the promise of just dinner ruin their otherwise perfect evening?
“Here we are,” Piers said.
Where? Oh. Wycke’s hotel. A catlike shape sat in a tenth-floor window. “I had a great time tonight.” Wow. He actually meant the words. This wasn’t him. No, Wycke shared his body, took whatever pleasure he found, and didn’t ever feel. Or want more. Couldn’t trust anyone to so far. Maybe being absent from court let him think more clearly. Others judged him, but, yes, he judged them too. Not here. Not now. He found himself asking, “Can I see you tomorrow night?”
The smile left Piers’ face. “I really do have to work tomorrow, from six p.m. until one a.m.”
Damn the luck. Wycke should get home, report to Saris. One more night couldn’t hurt, could it? “Any objections to me coming to the club?”
Piers smiled. Gods and ancestors, Wycke loved Piers’ smile. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you there.”
“Then count on it.” This time, Wycke drew Piers close, sharing one long, glorious kiss. “Do you have a way to get home?”
“It’s not far. I can walk.” Piers swooped in, delving into the depths of Wycke’s mouth again. All too soon, he pulled away. “I had a good time. Thank you.”
Wycke couldn’t say when he’d ever had such a wonderful evening, simply enjoying time with another person, no preconceived notions to uphold, no expectations. Wycke said, “Goodnight,” and cast a reasonably adequate—he hoped—protection spell to get Piers home safely.
Wycke stood on the sidewalk, watching Piers walk away, hands in his pockets, breath fogging before his face like wraiths.
Something about him still seemed familiar.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
What had Wycke done? He’d come here on an errand for his sister, failed miserably, and met… someone.
“While I wouldn’t call you handsome on a good day, your scowl could frighten one of my kin in dragon form,” Chynne informed Wycke from his place on the foldout bed.
“Why are you still here?” Still dressed from the club, Wycke sat on his own bed. The last thing he needed was a smart-mouthed familiar digging into his already raw emotions, though the club stayed too busy tonight to exchange more than a handful of words with Piers.
A crowded room couldn’t stop the major eye-fucking he’d engaged in, though.
“I have told you. I am still bound, so my sorcerer must be out there somewhere.” Chynne paused, sounding even grumpier when he added, “And believe me, I’ve looked.”
“Does he have to be in this area?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I did four divinations today, and all have eliminated the rest of this realm as a possibility. As you have, I also found traces of your sister’s former guard and the traces of a child, both old.”
“Someone could have taken him to another realm. There are dozens of realms.” While Wycke escaped the palace at any opportunity, realm-hopping wasn’t on his to-do list.
“Thousands, actually, but most of them are inhospitable to our kind.”
Wycke rolled his eyes. “Well, that saves us a lot of work.”
Chynne grinned.
Asshole cat. “Why am I helping you again?”
“You’re not. You’re fulfilling a promise to your sister.”
Oh, yeah. Wycke had gotten so involved in his infatuation with Piers, conveniently forgetting why he’d come to the human realm. “You say he’s here, maybe. We didn’t find him, and no one I spoke to has any information.” Wycke would like to talk to George the ogre again. Ask different questions and receive different answers.
“There’s something else.” Chynne pounced, landing on the big bed.
“What?” Wycke would growl about shedding later.
“At the scene of Sir Lyvianne’s passing, I sensed a powerful incantation.”
