Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,53

thin or thicken the walls, and push them out, or suck them down to his skin. And he’d managed a nice little burn-free zap several times, before this last slip.

“We slept all night, and napped. I shouldn’t be this wiped.”

“You’re recovering. I am too, honestly. The power infusions you gave me were vital, lifesaving, but that battle took almost everything out of me.”

Darien gestured. “The bed’s right there. Will they take away my homosexual credentials if I say I wish I could just sleep with you some more? In the snoring and drooling sense?”

“I think they take them away if you drool.”

“Except over Paul Newman. Or Tony Curtis. That lower lip.”

“True.” Personally, Silas thought Darien’s mouth could give anyone a run for their money. “Sadly, it’s time to get dressed. Let’s see if we can find something you can wear.”

“Which means getting undressed…” Darien licked his own, perfectly curved lips.

“I think…” Silas moved behind Darien, tugging him to where he could wrap an arm around him. “I think we shouldn’t push this— between us— any further till after the meeting.”

“Spoilsport,” Darien muttered. “Why not?”

He tried to put his unease into words. “Those council members have a lot of years of watching others for their weaknesses and risks. When people are together, in the Biblical sense, there’s an energy link that forms. The way they act toward each other, the way they move in each other’s space, becomes different. I don’t want there to be anything for the council to use as a reason to take you away from me.”

“I thought you said as an adult my apprenticeship would be my choice.” Darien’s tone went sharper.

“But sodomy’s still illegal. They’re not above using coercion to get what they want. Let’s not put another weapon in their hands.”

Darien’s sigh shook his whole body. Silas wanted to echo it. It was the nineteen sixties. The lavender scare fifties paranoia should be behind them, but the laws were still on the books, still enforced, if less regularly. Still a club someone could use to beat gay men with, if they wanted to, and Burns would be happy to use it.

Darien bowed his head. “Right. Got it.”

Silas couldn’t resist kissing the back of his neck. “Not that I don’t want to commit a whole lot of delicious sodomy with you, dear boy. Just, not yet.”

“You know, you’re not making it easier to wait.” Darien squirmed. Silas didn’t think it was coincidence the motion rubbed Darien’s butt cheeks back against him.

“Control. This is all about control.” With an effort, he set Darien aside and went to his closet. He wanted to deck Darien out and make the others see him as a power to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, their height difference meant most of his clothes would make Darien look like a teen trying on his father’s suits. “I don’t suppose you can sew?” he asked, unhooking a pair of wool slacks that had become too tight. “Hems, at least?”

“Yeah, maybe. If you have thread.”

Do I have thread? He’d sent his clothes out for cleaning and mending for the last decade. Surely there might be some, somewhere in this mausoleum of odds and ends he’d inherited from his mentor’s best friend. “Ask Grim, he might know.”

“Might know what?” Grim asked, stalking into the room. “Are you done throwing fire around? We don’t have much time and we haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Food. Right.” He set the slacks on the bed. “Come on, Darien. Let’s get some calories into you. That’ll perk you up.”

“There’s stew in the freezer,” Grim said, tail twitching. “Nice, thick stew with beef and gravy. A cat could stand a hot meal before heading out in the cold.”

Silas was pleased to see Darien grin, and ask, “Is there enough for humans to have some too?” Watching his familiar and his… Darien tease each other was a good feeling.

“Might be.” Grim hooked the door open wider with one big paw. “Depends on how hungry I am.” He looked over his shoulder and yawned, showing off his pink mouth, and pointy fangs.

Darien’s laugh eased some of the building tension in Silas’s chest.

“Come on,” Silas agreed. “Can’t starve my familiar. It’s in the contract. Let’s go eat.”

***

Darien tugged irritably at the sleeves of his shirt as an actual butler removed his borrowed coat from his shoulders. The pins inside the cuffs of his shortened slacks snagged in his sock, and he tried to subtly shake the hem loose. The butler eased the coat down his arms as