𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 ¿

The spell-structure Darien Green had been building collapsed with a sound like breaking

glass. The power rebound made him yip in pain and grab his head.

From the doorway, a high, amused voice said, "What do you call that one? London Bridge?"

He whirled. "Grim! Dammit."

His mentor's big tabby cat familiar swiped a paw across the floor, where a faint shimmer of

power lingered, then inspected his spread pads. "I'd say you damned it thoroughly yourself."

Darien snorted and pushed up off the polished floor of the study. "It was an experiment."

"Does Silas know you're playing around with power while he's gone?"

Silas Thornwood is not my boss. Except he kind of was, in magical stuff anyhow. Darien

didn't have a good grasp on what their relationship actually was, although Silas on his knees

last night, sucking Darien's cock, did mean the power didn't go all one way.

He dusted his trousers off— unnecessarily since the floor was the one thing Silas kept clean

and polished, ready to be chalked with runes— and rotated his stiff shoulders. Instead of

answering the question, he asked, "Doesn't it bother you that he trotted off when the council

called, without bringing you—" Or me. "—with him?"

Grimalkin sat down and licked his furry shoulder a couple of times, which Darien had

figured out meant the big cat was less calm than he was pretending to be. "The meeting was at

Necromancer Worthington's house. His wife is deathly allergic to cats."

"Seriously? That was their excuse?"

"This was a boring meeting anyway. All about tithes and finances. I didn't want to go."

Grim's pink tongue swiped across his fur again, neck cranked at an angle only cats and owls

could manage.

Darien rubbed his own aching neck, then jumped as the front door banged open. A flash of

fear swamped him— Crosby, getting in— before the sound of Silas's voice registered.

Embarrassed, he yanked back down the glowing shields he'd snapped into place.

Grim was eyeing him, and his face heated, but the cat only said, "That's not a bad reflex.

Keep it," before calling more loudly, "We're in the study, O Thumpy One."

There were a couple more thuds and grumbles before Silas appeared in the doorway. His

dark hair was more rumpled than usual, and his thick brows were drawn down. From his lean

height he peered down at Grim, then shifted his gaze to at Darien. "What were you two up to?"

Before Darien could decide whether to lie or confess, Grim said, "Wondering why you

didn't bring us along to liven up that finance meeting."

Silas ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it into place. "I should have. Even if it did make

Mrs. Worthington turn purple and expire. Serve those hidebound, cheapskate, pennypinching