Spell Cat by Tara Lain Page 0,78

the heat fill his head, comforting every cell. Light sparkled behind his eyes. The sparkles and the oil meshed into a blanket of iridescence that stretched on and on and on….

“Sammy. Psst.”

What? He opened his eyes, and Chen was staring at him. At the front of the class, Dr. Barth was lecturing away. What happened? He smiled at Chen. “Sorry.”

Chen whispered, “No problem. I was worried when you didn’t wake up. Did you actually go to sleep?”

Sammy shook his head. “Not exactly.” He turned his attention back toward Dr. Barth, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryder staring at him. Sammy went to take a note. What the hells? On his notepad he’d drawn a picture of himself with Aloysius, the familiar, on his shoulder. Every detail was sketched in pencil down to the silken texture of the cat’s fur. Had he done it while he was asleep? No, he hadn’t been asleep, just… somewhere else. But maybe wherever he went was enough like sleeping that his prophetic painting had kicked in. Was this scene going to happen? Weird.

Sammy flipped the page and took notes, trying to focus on Killian, who was telling the class they would have the chance to practice many techniques in their journey through the history of mysticism. Sammy wasn’t sure what to make of the practice they’d just done. Maybe he was tired from his midnight art frenzy.

Finally the class was over. Food seemed like a good idea. He’d only had the egg and latte this morning, and last night he hadn’t eaten much of his veggie burger because he’d been nervous about impressing Arnold. What an idiot. Anyway, lunch. He was light-headed.

Sammy shoved his notepad in his backpack and stood beside Chen. Ryder waited behind him.

“Mrwar.”

What? Sammy looked around, then felt pressure on his shins.

“Mrwar.” Aloysius did figure eights, rubbing his silky blackness against Sammy’s jeans.

“Hi, fella. Hey, good to see you.” That was kind of true, even though the cat made him nervous.

Aloysius jumped up on a seat. The crossed blue eyes stared up at Sammy. “Mrwar.” And in one fluid leap, the cat soared through the air and landed smack on Sammy’s shoulder. Just like in the drawing.

“Whoa.” Sammy staggered back two steps and felt Ryder’s hands settle on his shoulders. The grip was strong and warm.

“Mrwar.”

Ryder laughed, but all Sammy could feel was the heat and pressure of those hands.

Ryder laughed again. “He’s licking me. His tongue is scratchy!” Sammy glanced back and saw the cat scraping his long tongue over Ryder’s fingers. There was something about the power of Aloysius’s tongue that Sammy ought to remember, but the synapses in his brain weren’t firing. The synapses in his cock, however, ran rampant. Every one of Ryder’s long fingers on his shoulders seemed to have a direct connection to Sammy’s balls.

Too soon, Ryder moved his hands. Would that they had traveled to Sammy’s butt, but no such luck. Ryder looked at Sammy. “You okay?”

Sammy cleared his throat. “Fine. Aloysius startled me.”

“Has he ever done that before?”

“Nope.” Sammy reached up tentatively and patted the cat’s head. Aloysius pushed into Sammy’s hand, and he giggled. “What do you think he wants?”

“Mr. Raphael, Mr. McMasters, Mr. Chen.” Killian stood in the aisle, leaning into their row. He was always formal in class. It suited him. Plus Ryder was human, so Killian couldn’t reveal too much familiarity. Killian smiled. “Al seems to have taken to you, Mr. Raphael.”

Alvish, now Ryder, looked up. “Al? Do you mean me, sir?”

That made Sammy’s heart do a double take. He wished Alvish had taken a liking to him.

Killian smiled. “I call Aloysius Al, but perhaps I should call him Al Number One.”

Ryder shook his head. “No, sir. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be called Ryder. It’s my middle name.”

Killian leveled his gaze at Ryder. “A new name to go with your metamorphosis, I gather?”

Ryder nodded. “Something like that.”

Killian reached out a hand to Aloysius. “Come on, Al. We have places to go.”

The cat circled Sammy’s neck like a winter scarf and began to purr. Sammy reached up to dislodge him and got teeth, gently but firmly, placed in the pad of his thumb. “Uh, Dr. Barth….”

Killian raised one fair eyebrow. “A new regime, I see.” He looked at Al. “Are you sure, Al?”

The cat released his teeth from Sammy’s flesh and purred louder.

“All right, I’m sure he has his reasons. Enjoy your guest cat, Mr. Raphael.”

“What? But, sir… I don’t know how…. What in hells am I going to do with a cat?”

Killian laughed. “Anything he wants.”