He slung one arm around Sebastian’s neck, and Sebastian made a choked laugh as he was suddenly yanked into a half hug. “Jesus,” Mateo breathed. “I don’t ever want to see the goddamn future again.”
Sebastian hugged him back, hard, words sticking in his tight throat. “You’re okay?” he managed to say.
“I will be,” Mateo promised, his voice firm and best of all, completely himself.
Relief rushed Sebastian, leaving him weak and almost shaky. Mateo was going to be all right.
With one arm still around Sebastian’s neck, Mateo pointed at Wesley with his free hand. “Where did you find this aristocrat, he’s a treasure. And also an asshole, have you ever said something nice in your life?” he said to Wesley.
Wesley’s lip curled in a tiny smile. “I get the impression you’re not one to talk. I hear you don’t like anything.”
“I bet you don’t like anything but mybrother.”
Sebastian covered his face. Well, that answered the question of whether the others had figured out he and Wesley were more than just friends.
Mateo let go, and Sebastian let himself finally relax. He sprawled boneless on the floor with his back against the settee, the voices of the other two washing comfortingly over him. It was wonderful to hear them both. It would be nice if Wesley and Mateo got along. It would make things easier in Barcelona—
Except if his magic was tamed, Mateo didn’t need to go to Barcelona now. And if Blanshard and Mercier were gone, Wesley didn’t need Sebastian’s protection anymore.
There was no reason for the three of them to make the trip, and no reason for Wesley to stay.
As Mateo and Wesley bickered good-naturedly like kindred jaded souls, Sebastian glanced down at his lion tattoo.
There was no reason for Wesley to stay—but Sebastian didn’t want him to go.
They found Isabel and Molly just outside, hovering under a tree by the café next door. When she saw Mateo, Isabel squealed so loudly it drew looks from all the outdoor tables.
She hugged Mateo, and Sebastian of course, and then she threw her arms around Wesley’s ribs.
Wesley’s eyes widened at the sudden affection. “Oh—ah—”
“Thank you,” Isabel said.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I didn’t actually do anything—” Wesley started.
“You walked through fire to save Sebastian’s life,” she said dryly.
“Well—I mean, that was simply trusting your art—”
“And you didn’t just save him today.” Isabel stretched up on her toes to whisper in Wesley’s ear. “You brought Sebastian back when no one could reach him. He smiles more around you than he has for so long.”
Oh, Christ. Wesley was not equipped to experiencefeelings, this was completely unacceptable. Luckily Isabel let go to hug Mateo again, sparing Wesley the indignity of being sappy over Sebastian’s family saying sentimental rubbish likehe smiles more around you.
Isabel made some calls inside the café, and the next thing Wesley knew, there was apparently an army of paranormal artists on their way to the flat.
“I saved what I could from the fire at the paranormal exhibit,” Isabel was saying to Molly. “Things like dresses, weavings, a tapestry. I want to give them back to the artists, and they all want to meet you. Adela wants to hear all of your thoughts on Art Deco.”
Ugh, Wesley couldn’t standnormalbohemians—was he going to have to spend an evening with paranormal ones?
Sebastian turned to Mateo. “Are you staying?”
Mateo shrugged. “If I don’t have to worry about magic knocking me over? I might. Molly and I can play cards if the others get too artsy.”
Sebastian snagged Wesley’s sleeve. “Come with me?” he said, making it a question, as if Wesley was ever going to saynoto him.
The streets smelled of autumn as they walked, of turning leaves and baking bread. They passed a kiosk at the corner, taller than Wesley himself and papered over with adverts for clothes and every kind of show. Parisians and tourists still filled the walkways, but the endless parade of people didn’t bother him half so much when he had Sebastian leading him through the streets of Paris.
“Where are we going?” Wesley asked.
