“Thank you,” Sebastian said, and he realized he was smiling too.
He heard a throat clear. “May I have Sebastian back now, Arthur?” Wesley said, sardonically, arms folded. “Only if you’re finished with him, of course, by all means don’t let me interrupt.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. He let Sebastian go and turned toward Wesley. “I’m sure John has cigars on board somewhere if you need one.”
Wesley shook his head. “Sebastian’s half asleep already. I don’t leave when he’s asleep.”
Arthur’s eyebrows went up. “Wow,” he said slowly, smile coming back. “All right, then. I don’t think I know who you are, but I’ll leave you two, shall I?” He squeezed past Wesley in the narrow hall that was definitely not designed to accommodate a man of Arthur’s size. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I most certainly will not,” said Wesley. “If I need something, I’ll get it myself. No force on earth could get me to interrupt you and Brodigan tonight. I like my sight unviolated, thank you very much.”
“And there’s the Wesley I remember.” Arthur clapped him on the bicep. “It’s good to have you here. Both of you,” he said, and disappeared down the hall.
Sebastian crawled up the bed, and Wesley joined him, stretching out next to him so they faced each other on their sides. “And now you’ve landed yourself on Arthur’s mother bear list,” said Wesley. “You poor sap.”
“He’s nice,” Sebastian protested.
“Oh, he is. But when you’re awakened at two a.m. because Arthur ironically needs to be sure you’re sleeping well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Sebastian reached out, needing to touch him, and ran his fingers over Wesley’s jaw. “I’m so sorry about Langford.”
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t put a gun in his hand and bespell him to point it at you. He was going to kill you and as many other paranormals as he could.”
“I know,” Sebastian said softly. “But I also know it was complicated, and he wasn’t all bad to you.”
Wesley acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. “You know, he kept telling me I’d changed, that he wanted the stone-cold bastard of wartime back, heartless and willing to kill. Perhaps ironic that he got what he wanted in the end.”
Sebastian shook his head. “You weren’twilling to kill. You pulled that trigger to save my life. To save the lives of your friends. You’re anything but heartless, Wes.”
“You’re trying to turn the tables on me again,” Wesley said, voice a bit gruffer. “Trying to make me see things another way—”
Sebastian gently pressed his fingers over his lips to stop the argument. “You’re not heartless,” he said again. “Or cold, or made of stone. I know you better than that. It was a terrible choice to have to make.”
“And what about your choice?” Wesley said. “You might have given up your magic. Forever. Forme—”
“I’d do it again,” Sebastian said.
“But—”
“I almostlostyou,” Sebastian said. “I meant what I said. If it’s forever, it’s worth it.”
“You say that now, because you’re exhausted and possibly in shock,” Wesley said. “Come tomorrow—”
“It might be hard. I might miss it,” Sebastian admitted. “But I’ll never, ever regret it. If I have a choice betweenWesleyormagic, I will chooseWesley.Every time.”
“Stop that at once; you’re going to make me have an emotion.”
Wesley reached for Sebastian’s left arm, turning it so the inside of his wrist faced up. He tilted his head, gaze on the tattoo. “There’s the lion. Not all mine anymore, I suppose, if everyone can see him now.”
Sebastian swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you liked the way the lion was before—”
“How can you imagine for one moment that I don’t adore him all the more like this?” Wesley said, a little more hoarse than normal. “I mean, yes, it’s unforgivable, because every time I see your tattoo now I will remember what you sacrificed and be in danger of experiencing feelings. But the lion, and the man who carries him, are enchanting. With or without magic.”
Sebastian’s throat was tight again. “You’re not looking at my tattoo through rose-colored glasses, are you?”
“How dare you.” Wesley’s thumb skimmed over the tattoo in a light caress that still lit Sebastian’s skin, even if it was different without the magic. “It’s not rose-colored glasses, it’s cold facts. Most people want things from me. Sometimes they want money or status; sometimes it’s war and violence and cruelty. But you—you’ve only ever given, from the night we met. That kind of enchantment has nothing to do with magic.”
Sebastian bit his lip against the feelings welling up. “Definitely rose-colored glasses,” he said lightly, “because I know I’ve wanted things from you in bed.”
