“Yeah!” Dane shouted back. His voice sounded slightly muffled, as if he were in another of the rooms up there.
“Do you still have the Water Weaver’s spell book from 1827 through 1863? I thought you were reading it last.”
Grey moaned softly, dropping his head so that it was pressed against Cort’s left shoulder blade. “Seriously, just shoot me now.”
“No, I put it by the TV in your office. Look next to your Xbox,” Dane shouted.
“Oh! Thanks, Dane!”
“Yeah, thanks, Dane!” Grey shouted up the stairs as well.
Cort looked up to find Wiley staring at them, wide-eyed and mouth bobbing. He thought he heard an “eep” escape Wiley before he disappeared away from the railing. Cort’s shoulders shook as laughter rolled through him. He didn’t understand a damn bit of it, but he could only chuckle at the muttering coming from Grey.
“Real interesting house you’ve got here, Grey.”
“I swear to God, it’s all much more normal than this.”
“Uh-huh,” Cort said. It was weird, and there wasn’t a damn thing Grey could say that would explain any of it. Normally, he’d be trying to rip his patient out of there. Fire magic, giraffes, and spell books? Hell, no.
But then he remembered them sitting around the family room last night, eager to learn anything they could that might help their friend. Their brother.
As long as Grey was safe, there was no way he was taking the man out of the house. That didn’t mean Cort wasn’t going to keep a close eye on him to make sure that he truly was safe.
“Fine, smartass. Lunch. Is it lunchtime?”
Cort looked at his watch. “Well, it’s almost eleven. Early lunch?”
“Pfft…by the time you teach me how to make lunch, it’ll be noon. Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen and make lunch for me and all the heathens that live in this madhouse.” Grey grabbed his arms again and started turning Cort, which only made him chuckle because Grey was turning him in the opposite direction of the kitchen.
“All right, all right. Let’s check out what you got in the kitchen,” Cort said, more than happy to drop what he saw, or rather what he thought he’d seen. They could potentially talk about it again later when Grey was relaxed and back in his own apartment.
Giraffes, magic, and spell books? Yeah, lunch sounded far saner.
Chapter 5
Someone—probably Baer, based on the faint scent of his dog, Ruby—placed a glass in his hand, and Grey lifted it to his nose for a whiff. Whiskey. Taking a sip, he enjoyed the burn in his throat and pool of warmth as it hit his stomach. Ahh, this was a good one. Baer had a thing for expensive whiskey.
He sat on the couch in the family room next to the kitchen, the smell of yeasty garlic bread cooking in the oven. It joined the scent of something rich with tomato sauce. They were likely having spaghetti—he could also pick up the faint odor of cooked pasta.
Grey had been working with Cort for a week now, and he’d learned more than he’d ever thought possible. He was feeling better about his predicament, getting used to moving about in a world of darkness. Cort made him see everything in a more positive light. The man was like a ray of sunshine and didn’t hesitate to tease him and treat him normally. He’d come to appreciate the vision therapist and looked forward to his visits now.
He’d also quit holing up in his apartment and looked forward to having meals with his friends, but he kept getting glimpses into their thoughts. He couldn’t seem to block them off, not that it had been all that easy when he’d had his vision and full powers, but keeping his guard up seemed more difficult now.
Baer was thinking things about his mate Grey shouldn’t be hearing. Awfully bendy. What he can do with his legs…
Dane, who opened the oven to check the bread also had his mind in the gutter. I can’t wait to get Clay alone tonight. That thing with his tongue…
And Lucien…Grey scowled when he picked up on Lucien’s thoughts. Cort is fucking hot. I should ask him out.
Seemed he was only catching the dirty thoughts tonight. The couch rocked, accompanied by a waft of spicy cologne. “How’s it going with Cort?” Lucien asked.
“Good. He’s taught me a lot.” Grey took another sip of whiskey, still reeling over the man’s thoughts. He didn’t know why they bothered him so much, but then, he was getting closer to Cort, was feeling way more comfortable around him. He liked him a lot. More than a lot. So, Lucien’s thoughts sat wrong with him. But now, he gave in to his curiosity. “What’s Cort look like?”
Lucien chuckled. “He’s a tall, slender, Black man with warm brown eyes that sort of glow amber when he laughs. Body is killer. He’s kind of stunning. Have to say, I wondered if he was gay, because he pings my gaydar.”
Cort was pinging all sorts of things in Grey, but he frowned again at the interest he could hear in Lucien’s voice. Lucien was a gorgeous man himself, and if Cort was gay, he could see him having interest in Lucien. The guy stood around six foot six and had the face of a freaking god with high cheekbones and full, sensual lips.
How would Grey feel if Lucien asked Cort out? Not too good. He was already attracted to Cort and more than a little possessive when it came to his vision therapist. There was something in his touch that just got to Grey, some elusive feeling he’d never felt before. He wanted to explore it more but still hesitated.
“He is very good-looking,” Wiley piped up from Grey’s right. “Reminds me of an Instagram model I follow.”
Baer growled at him and Wiley laughed. “I’m taken, not dead.”
“Very taken,” Baer said, and there was the loud smack of a kiss.
Footsteps came up behind the couch and Dane spoke. “Dinner is almost ready. The bread needs a few more minutes. Smells fantastic, Wiley.”
“I just followed a recipe. Homemade bread sounded good for some reason.” There was a pause; then Wiley continued. “I found another healing spell.”
Grey perked up. “Oh, yeah?”
“There are a couple of supplies I need to order before we can try it.”
“I was also thinking about trying again,” Dane announced, still behind Grey. “Maybe it’s only a matter of focus.”
Maybe this time it’ll work, and I can stop feeling like a failure.
Grey hated that Dane felt so bad about his inability to heal him. As always, he could hear it in the man’s voice. Of course, his thoughts were also quite loud when it came to Grey’s injury.
The oven timer beeped, and the couch shifted as Wiley jumped up and hurried into the kitchen, his footsteps quick across the tile kitchen floor. Grey took another sip of the whiskey, savoring its burn.
“Dinner’s ready,” Clay called out. “I hope you guys enjoy the spaghetti sauce. It was my grandmother’s recipe, and my mom took years to perfect it. It’s only my second time making it, so be warned.”
Grey stood and slowly made his way around the couch into the kitchen. The wonderful scents increased, and his stomach grumbled. He was looking forward to this meal. Maybe he could ignore all the mind ramblings taking up space in his head. People milled about and he paused, not wanting to bump into anyone.