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“Oh, babes, we’ve got to get you sorted. No wonder all this bad juju is attracted to you.”
“Because my pipes are clogged?”
She nodded. “Yep, you’ve got to release all that built-up stress and tension, or it’ll just accumulate and attract more.”
“I’ve never heard that before.”
“Probably because I just made it up, but sounds pretty legit, huh?”
I rolled my eyes and started to laugh again. “I mean, I’m ready to try and see if it works. I need something to turn my life around.”
“Alright, maybe I can hook you up with one of my friends. Javier is his name—he’s an office manager at one of those improv theaters in Santa Monica. A cheetah shifter, very kind, very funny, and very sexy. I think you’ll like him.”
It was tempting, and I wanted to say yes, but something—someone—held me back from that. That someone happened to be a six-foot-three man with red scales on his chest and a growly smile that made my stomach flutter.
Still… we weren’t really anything except acquaintances. Maybe friends? Yes, we almost hooked up in his bedroom, and he saved my life (on multiple occasions), so that could be affecting things, but I couldn’t deny that no matter what kind of Superman Syndrome I’d fallen under, there was an increasingly powerful tug between the both of us. Over the last few days, it didn’t matter how many rooms that castle had, Damien and I always found ourselves with each other for the majority of the time, hanging out like we were buddies reconnecting after a long separation. Except this separation happened to be from birth.
We hadn’t talked about what happened in his bedroom, though. I figured he was still giving me some mental space to sort out all of my shit. But I couldn’t deny that it made me wonder if maybe he regretted ever getting that intimate with me?
And why did that thought hurt so fucking bad?
“So should I give him your number?” Claire already had her phone out. I hadn’t realized she’d typed out a message already with a…
“How’d you get that picture of me?”
“This one? I just took it.” She smiled and turned the phone. “I won’t send it if you don’t want me to.”
“Huh,” I said. I was pleasantly surprised by how good the photo turned out. I expected to see myself looking beat down and tired, but it was quite the opposite. I was looking out toward the street, cheeks full and the scraggly beard now trimmed and shaped, my hair freshly cut, the dirty blond tamed with a fade on the sides and scissors on the top. The sun slanted in through a prism by the window that painted my shirt in rainbow colors.
“Actually, send it, and then send that picture to me.”
Fuck it. Vampires were after me, my life was in shambles, and I wasn’t even sure if Damien was into me. I deserved at least a little dick.
Well, hopefully not little…
Claire winked. “You got it, cutie.” She sent the message and the pic. “Don’t report me to HR for hitting on you.”
“I won’t. I will report you for pimping me out, though.”
Her laughter hid the jingle of the door opening.
“What’s so funny?” Damien asked, sunlight framing him, turning him into a beautiful painting that dripped in gold. The sight of him made me freeze. All thoughts of cheetah shifters and random hookups disappeared, replaced by that half-cocked smile and that tall, lean figure.
One simple thought echoed through my head as my body rebooted: I’m so fucked.
Chapter 15
Top of the World
Damien
I helped Claire and Robby close up the Magic Box. They still wouldn’t tell me what they were laughing at when I first got here, but that didn’t actually bother me. I liked to see how close those two were getting. Whenever they were together, there would be a constant stream of giggles and laughs, teasing and jokes.
I could tell Robby really needed that kind of connection, and I could trust that Claire would be good for him. I’d known Claire since we were in high school together, both of us meeting after being paired together for a group biology project. She’d ended up going to Wynwood Academy for Marvels in New York City while I stayed in Los Angeles, attending a much less exclusionary school. We never lost touch, though, and when she moved back to California so she could open up her own shop, we immediately reconnected.
“That’s pretty much it,” Claire said, clapping her hands. “Cashier’s been closed, floors swept, displays cleaned, shelves restocked. We’re good to go, boys.”
Robby looked around with a proud smile. He had opened up to me about how his life had been feeling directionless lately, and I wondered if this gave him a sense of forward movement. I could easily see Claire making him a contemporary after a year or so of experience as an assistant.
