through with this ridiculous marriage—or me either, for that matter—is a sense of duty to our community. If he and I stand together, there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to stop us. You do understand that?”
He might be proud of her, but she pushed too far. He leaned forward in his chair and stared intently up into her pansy-blue eyes. “And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that witchcraft is not the only kind of power. Should you defy me, either of you, Killian’s little human friend would never be safe again.” He smiled. “And, Lavender, there is another human you might want to worry about also. You do understand that?”
Hiding out. Yes, one of the most powerful creatures on the earth was such a coward, he had called in sick for the first time in his career. Why? To escape a mere human. He should have called in miserable or heartbroken. Called in defeated.
He curled into a ball on his bed. No one to talk to. No Al. Of course, talking to that damned feline was clearly sick. He could call Lavender, but she had her own sorrow. Besides, he couldn’t quite picture describing his sex with Blaine to Lavender. Maybe someday, when they were both ancient witches, he’d be rocking in some chair, regaling her with the tales of his one true love for the thousandth time. True love. Oh gods. No, it couldn’t be that.
He sat up. His hair was damp and dull. Taking a shower would make him think of jerking off, and jerking off made him think of Blaine. Clean up. A prickle on his skin—instant clean. He fingered the long strands of his hair, glistening, fresh, and dry. Somehow it was always more fun seeing it wet and watching it dry slowly. He should have been a human.
But he wasn’t a human. Not even close. Despite all dire childhood education, he didn’t seem to have gotten any closer to being human last night. Time to face it. He dragged himself to the edge of the bed and sat. His long mane fell forward over his face and bare chest onto his sweatpants. Good. The facts were assembled. He wasn’t depleted. Oh hell, he was exhausted and depressed and miserable, but his magic was not lessened one bit.
He leaned back on his straight arms. Maybe that wasn’t how it worked. Maybe the depletion started after you had sex the second time, or fifth, or… seventeenth. Or perhaps it was gradual, like leprosy or some other sneaking disease.
He sat up. It might be different for gay men. Perhaps the older generations hadn’t taken that into account. Maybe if there was no chance of producing a child, the effect didn’t occur. Was that possible? His pulse sped up. But then again, it might affect his DNA so that he couldn’t produce a magic child. Oh damn! Insane!
He sprang up and paced across his small bedroom. No matter what, he’d done himself in. How had he ever thought he could make love with Blaine and then walk away a happy witch? Even if he’d lost all his power, he would have been miserable to lose the damned human. Of course, if he lost his power, he could have the damned human.
But the damage was done. He fell back on the bed. His chest hurt like there was a Blaine-size hole in his heart. Marrying Lavender would now be more painful, not less. And he’d done it to himself—with a lot of help from that damned familiar. Oh gods. He rolled back into a ball. He missed Aloysius. The loss of him was as bad as losing Blaine. The thought of never seeing Blaine again made him ill, and losing Al was unthinkable. How had he screwed up his life so completely?
He sighed. How would he stay away from Blaine? Blaine didn’t know where Killian lived, but he knew where to find his classroom. There was no certainty Blaine would want to see him again, but he might. Gods knew, he’d been persistent up until now. Nothing for it but to give up teaching. It was what everybody wanted him to do anyway. He’d send his letter of resignation tomorrow. Damn. Leaving midsemester was crap. He’d leave the school high and dry. I love this job. Can’t I have anything I love?
A man walked past Blaine and stared at him. He probably looked odd sitting here on the brownstone steps with a cat in his