“Bane!” His face lights up, and without hesitation, he throws his arms around his cousin in a warm embrace. “There he is. Finally get a break from your righteous quest?”
“Uh, no,” Bane says. “Not exactly.”
Righteous quest? He’s a macho, modern werewolf, not a medieval knight. What righteous quest?
Wynn finally registers the stranger on his porch.
“Uh, what’s going on? Why is he here?”
“Long story.”
“Uh, hey, Wynn,” I mumble. “I’m Josh. Don’t think we’ve ever met before.”
Holding out my hand, the other man stares at it and then at me for long enough that I fidget. Wynn’s smile falters, the easy-going friendliness fading into a blank mask.
“This isn’t a friendly visit, is it?”
Bane and I exchange glances, unsure how to break the news. It’s almost like we’re breaking up with Wynn for Dante. Except we also need to explain that the vampire is a scumbag who had his own agenda.
We end up talking at the same time.
“Look man, there’s no easy way to say this.”
“Uh, I know this is going to sound really strange coming from a virtual stranger…”
Then we realize the other one is talking and stop. I’m not totally sure how to keep going anyway, so I let him take over.
“Go ahead—”
“No, you can—”
“Well, I’m not sure…”
“Like I know what the hell to say?”
This isnotgoing great.
“Hold on,” Wynn says. “Let’s sit down.” He flips on the porch lights and shuts the front door, gesturing for us to take a seat on the cozy little porch.
Bane stalks over to the porch swing and drops down, totally hogging he whole seat. The small porch offers limited seating, just a few decorative plants and what looks like a little altar tucked in the corner.
I gesture for him to scoot over. He scowls and gestures back at Wynn, like he’s telling me to go first. That’s not what I meant. I motion toward him and the swing again. He raises an eyebrow and shrugs, completely lost. Christ. How did we survive the drive here if we can’t even coordinate seating?
I point more emphatically, and he throws one of the embroidered pillows from the swing at me. Printed on the pillow is ‘I’m a good witch until the wine is gone.’
“Make room for me,” I spell out.
Bane rolls his eyes and finally shifts over. I sit down as far from him as possible, but there isn’t much room and the swing forces us together.
Maybe I should have stood. The swing bucks and jerks as we struggle to maintain some distance, but our sides end up pressed together anyway. Ugh, even the swing—and possibly the universe—conspires against me. Why can’t I escape Bane Blackwood? His thigh rests against mine. My shoulder grazes his arm. I’m hyperaware of everywhere our bodies touch. When our knees brush, my heart flutters at the contact. That stupid lust potion must still be coursing through my veins.
Wynn clears his throat. He’s relocated some crystals and perched on the porch ledge, watching us with growing concern.I’d almost forgotten he was there. How did something as simple as finding a seat derail me from our actual purpose?
Apparently, our fumbling gave him time to think, and judging by his expression, he’s drawn his own conclusions. “Is this about Dante?”
Both of us go still where we’re trying to get comfortable on the swing.
“Um…”
