Dark inspiration snakes through my thoughts. I’ve always wanted to try this. I think with Luci, it could very well work.

Desire clenches at my gut. I give his cock a few more firm tugs. He makes a gurgling noise deep in his throat.

“Cum for me,” I whisper.

And he does.

His entire body goes rigid. His back arches. A silent scream pours out of him. I hold the handkerchief over the tip of his cock and feel it grow wet and warm in my hand.

Soft tendrils of his magic seep out of him like smoke rising from a fire. I call them to me and they come eagerly and settle within my core.

“Drew,” he gasps.

A deep groan escapes my throat.

Luci collapses against me. All sweaty and spent. I remove my hand from his mouth and he sucks in a lungful of air while I tuck him back into his pants.

“Good boy,” I rumble.

Luci sighs. A deep, happy sigh of true contentment. The sound wraps around my heart and clenches tightly.

Fuck. I think I’m in love.

Chapter twenty-three

Drew

The laptop makes an ominous noise as I slam it shut. Shit. Sheepishly, I open it up again. Thankfully, everything looks fine, so I close it again. This time with a little more grace.

My discreet enquiries in trying to find anyone who is Old Blood and also a part of the BDSM lifestyle have come to nothing. Either there is no one or everyone is coy.

A deep sigh escapes me, and I run my hands over my face. Maybe I’m overthinking it? Luci likes to be told what to do, and I like telling him. Perhaps it is not complicated after all. As long as I don’t get carried away.

That’s the thing, though. Do I have that level of self-control? Can I be trusted with that much power over a person?

Damnit. I’m a mage who has been given a vessel. I have been bestowed with power over another person. Whether I like it or not. Trying to twist it into some modern, acceptable version is probably pointless. I’m just trying to absolve myself of guilt. I want to be able to say I’m renouncing the society I was brought up in and creating a sweeter, kinder version with my partner. When in reality, while Luci is much more indoctrinated than most, this was always the way it was meant to be between us.

The drinks cabinet smirks at me. I glower back at it and reach for the cigars in my drawer instead. As the spicy smoke fills my lungs, memories of Luci whimpering and shuddering in my arms while I stroked him to completion, fill my mind. My cock stirs and I have to adjust myself.

As happy as that memory is, I think I might like what happened after that even more. The dazed, soporific look in Luci’s emerald eyes. The blissed out, cheerful smile on his face. His polite offer of fellatio, which I declined for some crazy reason that only past me is aware of.

For the rest of the day, Luci had looked so very happy. It made me the proudest man in the world.

I really think I might be in love.

Oh my gods.

Being in love with someone you are already married to is not exactly a problem. So I don’t understand why I’m filled with this uncomfortable unease. Am I truly so frightened to be vulnerable for the first time in my life? And why? Luci clearly likes me too. Probably a little too much. My heart is safe in his hands. There is nothing for me to fear.

Suddenly, a feeling like an itch at the back of my mind takes a hold of me and won’t let go. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. One of my warding spells has been triggered. Someone has gone near the shrine. Probably one of the gardeners by accident, but I should go check.

Grumbling, I get to my feet. I am turning into a grumpy old man and I need to stop it. The fresh air and the distraction will be good for me. There is no need to complain about it.

It doesn’t take me long to get outside. The sky is gray and low, but surprisingly bright. The wall surrounding the secret garden looks undisturbed, but as I step closer, I can see the ivy covering the door has been disturbed. My pulse quickens. Is someone really in there? The gardeners know to leave the ivy and the walls well alone. They’ve been told sentimental nonsense about my childhood memories.

Perhaps one of them has become curious? That makes far more sense than Revivalists sneaking onto my property. But just in case, I throw tight shields over myself until I’m practically invisible.

My heart is still pounding as I gently push the hidden door open. I’m a fairly strong mage and thanks to the immense raw power of Luci’s magic that now flows through my veins, I should be able to deal with whatever I find. Unless it is several Revivalists.

I take a deep breath and slip inside the secret walled garden. My heart skips, flutters, and then steadies as my mind registers the sight before me. It’s just Luci. The magic of the shrine must have called to him and made him curious.

What a relief. My shoulders relax and I let my shields drop.

He looks as adorable as ever in his too-big wellies. The jeans are a nice tight fit to show off his lovely legs and that pink fluffy jumper is insanely cute.

But wait a minute. What is he doing? It looks like he has set several small crystals around the shrine and is working on some sort of incantation. But that can’t be right.

Suddenly, Luci whirls around to face me. The crystal in his hand falls. His face drains of all color and his green eyes grow impossibly wide.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

I watch, dumbfounded, as Luci slowly sinks to his knees and bows his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers so softly that I only just hear him.

Somewhere a crow caws loudly and a breeze creaks through the ivy.

“You’re not a Revivalist,” I say numbly.

Luci shivers and wraps his arms around himself.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

My mind has stuttered to a complete stop. Not one of my brain cells is working. Luci can’t be a Revivalist. He can’t. I refuse to believe it.

“Is someone making you do this?” I ask.

He shakes his head. His silky hair moves and shimmers from the movement.

“I don’t believe you,” I say weakly.

He looks up at me and oh my, the sadness in his green eyes is going to break my heart.

“The fey are the ancestors of all magic weavers. If we give them this world back, they will overthrow the mundanes and reward us greatly,” he says.

But I know that tone. That’s his, ‘repeating something verbatim from a book’, tone. It’s not what he truly believes.

“Did your parents teach you that?” I ask.

“My parents are respected members of society. My father has a seat on the Council. They are not Revivalists. This…this is a path I chose for myself.”