entirely in black, including the fur collar. Well, if you didn’t include a small dash of cross-eyed blue. He hoped he looked smashing—hair polished and shining down his back, a little touch of guyliner, and even some black fingernail polish. Diamonds in both ears and in the pinch of his nostril.
Wish Blaine could see me.
Fuck, stop thinking about Blaine!
Yeah, 11:00 p.m., and the gang’s all here. Loud music and writhing bodies on the dance floor, mixed appropriately with the flashing laser-type lights that were, of course, produced by a witch’s command, but that were invisible to the unsuspecting humans who occasionally wandered in. Sadly, it wasn’t a gay club. As in humankind, gay witches only accounted for 10 percent of their population, and considering the small size of the community, that wasn’t enough individuals to justify a club. In fact, this was the only witches’ club approaching a singles’ scene, but there should be some pickings.
The hostess knew who he was and found him a table with great deference and a little flirtation. He would have preferred anonymity, but that was hard to come by for the Witch Master. He sat and asked for a cosmopolitan. Girlie, yes, but then he wasn’t exactly advertising his alpha-male status tonight. A couple of people he knew came over and chatted. Nice, but not his goal. He didn’t invite them to sit, and they wouldn’t presume to do so without his invitation.
He sipped and inspected the dance crowd, then turned toward the bar. Hmm, a couple of interesting candidates. Willy Fleishman, or Willy Flash, as he was known. Bisexual, Killian had heard, but discreet. Though a bit stocky and hairy for my preference. No shaggy brown hair or beautiful cheekbones. Oh hells. He wasn’t looking for a life partner here, just a good fuck, and Willy had big feet, which might speak well for his dick. Killian shifted in his chair as his ass tightened in longing.
“May I sit down?”
Killian looked up into a genuinely exquisite face, so perfect he almost wanted to scratch it to see if it was real. Smooth, dark brown hair slicked back from a carved oval face of creamy white, with eyes that also appeared to be dark brown, though in the flashing lights, it was hard to tell. Most amazingly, the witch was a stranger. “I don’t believe I know you, Mister….”
“I’m Moran Inglesby, cousin to Aramin Inglesby of your community. I am visiting from Europe.”
“I see.” Gorgeous. From out of town. Probably gay, since he’d made the first move. Could be perfect. Strange that he felt a little sad. “Please sit down, Moran.”
The man settled and placed a half-full wineglass in front of him on the oval table. “Unusual neckwear you have there.”
Killian smiled. “Aloysius and I are inseparable… at his insistence.”
Moran laughed. Musical and slightly phony. But no one was really comfortable in these getting-to-know-you situations. He sipped his wine. “I’m surprised to see witchery’s most eligible bachelor by himself.”
Killian sighed. Might as well be obvious. “Maybe I was waiting for you.”
The man leaned in. “I certainly hope so.” His fingers touched Killian’s. “May I buy you another drink?”
Killian pointed at his still nearly full glass. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“Are you looking for companionship, Witch Master?”
Might as well get to the point. “Yes, I am.”
“What do you like?”
Killian glanced into the pretty dark eyes. “I suppose I’m not much different from other homosexual males.”
“Do you want to be tied up, gagged, blindfolded?”
Killian frowned. “That hardly seems like a starting place.”
The man grinned. “I always believe in proceeding to the bottom line.”
“Those things don’t sound so enjoyable when you know you can remove the bonds at a thought.”
Moran shrugged gracefully. “I suppose, but sometimes a little play is fun. Do you like to play, Killian?”
Maybe not. At least not Moran’s way. But he had to give this a shot. The party loomed, and there wasn’t a big field of gay players to choose from. Moran was attractive—at least physically. “I’m usually up for a little play.”
“Would you like to come to my hotel?”
A low growl vibrated against his ear. He reached up and chucked Al under the chin, then cocked his head at Moran. If I plan to get fucked tonight, I don’t really have time for subtlety. Still, I like at least a pretense of the romantic. “Very well. This place is a little noisy for talking. I would like the chance to get to know you.”
Moran stared at him a moment. Was he grasping