The Hero and the Hidden Royal - Renae Kaye Page 0,6

see me.

Then his fantasy dissolved. See him? Ha. Derek looked at his empty coat sleeve. He was still invisible.

“If you don’t mind?” Sam said apologetically. “I can’t make out a damn thing. I’m going to have to report my motorbike stolen, too.”

“It was a moped.”

“Motorbike.”

Derek chuckled and guided Sam toward the correct door. “Why are you ashamed of riding a moped if you actually ride a moped? I’m on the third floor. You have to climb some stairs. But it’s straight up. No obstacles,” he promised.

He fumbled with the key until he opened the door, then guided Sam to the first step. The stairs were lit and Derek got his first good look at Sam’s face. “Oh, wow. You’ve got a big cut on your head. Should we take you to a hospital?”

Sam shook his head. “I hate hospitals. Let me clean up and I’ll have a look. Where are these stairs? Everything’s hazy. You’re just a shadow. I hope this isn’t concussion.”

“I don’t imagine concussion or lack of it will help you there. I’m always a shadow. Come on.”

“Huh?” Sam didn’t understand what Derek meant, but obediently climbed the stairs until they were at the top. They had to pause again while Derek unlocked his door, then Derek helped Sam inside and sat him at the table.

His apartment wasn’t much. A kitchen with a round table that seated four people if they were squished up a bit, which led into a living area that had two sets of double doors that opened to a balcony which was only a meter wide. Derek never went out there. Scared of heights and all. Off the living area was another door that led to the only bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a separate toilet. It was cozy.

Derek wasn’t sure if Sam was about to run screaming from the apartment, so he left the latch off the door, just in case Sam needed a quick exit.

“Hold tight,” he told Sam with a pat on his broad shoulder. “I’ll grab some towels.”

He had butterflies in his stomach, which he swore were a product of excitement, rather than nervousness. In order to calm down, he shed his coat and took a couple of deep breaths, sighing in relief as his trousers and shirt reappeared.

Sam sat docilely at the table. “I’ve got to say thanks for doing this, Derek,” he murmured quietly. “Thanks for distracting that guy with a gun. Thanks for taking me away from that situation. Thanks for cleaning me up.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Derek replied. “I might be a really scary person. I might be a terrible doctor.”

Sam chuckled. “I don’t think so. I get feelings about people, and I have a feeling you’re one of the good guys.”

Flirting for one of the first times in his life, Derek laughed lightly. “You shouldn’t tell people you go around having feelings about strange men. What will they think of you? And you could be giving me all sorts of ideas.”

There was something liberating about having a “normal” conversation with a person who couldn’t see that you were invisible. Or perhaps Derek was buoyed on the excitement of his first rescue.

Sam smiled, although it was slightly lopsided due to his lip swelling on the left side of his face. “If they think I’m gay, they’d be right. And I’m interested in these ideas you may have. Can you tell me more?”

Derek froze in the act of pulling his first aid box from the pantry. In shock he stared at Sam. “You’re gay?”

“Yes,” Sam said with a proud tilt of his chin. “Are you?”

Derek swallowed. Why would Sam be interested in that bit of information unless he was interested in Derek? The trousers on his legs began to shimmer and disappeared. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Good? Derek’s shirt disappeared. Heck. Sam was flirting with him. Unsure what to do with that knowledge, and completely off-center, Derek dumped a towel in Sam’s lap. “There’s a towel to wipe off with. Then I can put some ointment on that cut if it doesn’t look that bad.”

“Can you do it for me?” Sam asked softly. “I think the blood is going to have to be washed off, not just wiped. Can you wash my face for me? Gently, of course.”

The walls of his apartment seemed to close in on him until he and Sam were in their own little bubble. Even the pattering of the rain outside, muting the usual sounds of the city, made it feel like a cocoon. “What if you