Spell Cat by Tara Lain Page 0,29

on his arm, not enough to break skin, but enough to break his pitiful mood. He sat up. Al let go of his arm and flicked his tail. “Okay, Al, I get it. I may not have a life, but I have a purpose. Let’s get on with it. Want some food?”

He got up and went to the kitchen, where he found another can of salmon. He was well stocked now after a couple of shopping trips, and Al liked the fish when he wasn’t eating whatever Killian had on his plate. He dumped it in a dish, and Al jumped up on the counter and began to chow down. Watching the cat eat made his mouth water. Apparently his stomach was as empty as his heart. “I’m starving. How about a trip to the coffee shop? Tea, scones, and maybe one of their omelets should take care of both breakfast and lunch.”

He took a shower, dressed in jeans and a sweater, and then he and Al made a motorcycle trip to the Prince Street Coffee Shop. The owner came out from the kitchen to welcome him personally. He settled into the corner booth he took whenever he could get it. He’d brought a good book, so after ordering, he opened it, hoping to be consumed by The History of Romance Fiction. Maybe a bad choice. Al purred around his neck.

“Mrwar.” Killian scratched behind the fuzzy ear.

“Mrwar.” He shifted his hand to the soft spot under Al’s chin.

Teeth gripped his ear. “Dammit, Al!” He looked up to swat the cat.

Blaine was standing at the end of the counter a few feet away, staring at Killian.

How long could a witch live with his heart stopped?

Oh gods. He understood. Heat. The way he felt this moment dwarfed every emotion he’d had with Moran by a thousand. A million. The chasm between indifference and… passion. His heart beat fast, his breath caught in his chest, and his eyes never wanted to look on another sight, just Blaine.

He ought to run, but whether away or straight to Blaine, he wasn’t sure.

“Mrwar.”

Blaine seemed to catch the welcome in that meow. He smiled and took a step closer. “Hi, Al. Good to see you, buddy.”

Aloysius unwrapped himself from Killian’s neck, did one bound off the tabletop, and launched himself into Blaine’s waiting arms. Oh Powers, would that Killian could do the same. He actually had to hold himself still, or he knew he’d follow the cat.

Blaine petted Al as the cat did his imitation of a moving fur coat, purring so loudly Killian could hear him, even a few feet away. “You seem happy to see me, anyway.” He looked up. “Are you happy to see me, Killian?”

Killian nodded. Correction—his head nodded. He had no power over it.

Blaine walked even closer. “Could I have lunch with you? Talk to you?”

The head nodded again.

The human slipped into the chair beside Killian. Sweet Powers, he smelled so wonderful. That sweet and spice together.

“This sure is one great cat. Where did you get him?”

Killian cleared his throat. “Gift, uh, a gift from my mother.”

Blaine chucked Al under the chin, and the cat let him. “My mother hates cats.” He looked up, and Killian swam into the pools of deep green. “Of course, my mother hates me, so she’s not likely to give me the time of day, much less a pet.”

“Surely not.”

He grinned. “That she hates me? Oh yeah. I keep defying her by choosing to be gay when her preacher has clearly cleansed me of this delusion at least ten times, so she washed her hands of me.”

“But you didn’t choose—Ooh, you’re joking.”

Blaine’s grin faded. “I wish it were a joke. Then a lot of beaten-up, confused kids would have parents who loved and understood them.”

There were worse things than having a manipulative witch for a mother. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Blaine smiled. “I never thought you were making fun. I just have a weird sense of humor sometimes.”

Then he did it. He put his hand on Killian’s arm. Such a simple gesture. Flash! Heat blazed in Killian’s head, and hot steel filled his cock. Blaine started and pulled his hand away. Those green eyes widened, and he stared at Killian like he was either the answer to a dream or a cobra, and Blaine wasn’t sure which. “Holy shit!”

Killian tried to make sense of his brain synapses and grasped at the first thought. “Uh, food—did you want food?”

Blaine leaned over and whispered