Page 34 of The Bairwick Witches
“Hope it worth it. Tho, ain’t no one gonna say this wasn’t a fun, damn time, yeah?” Rae called out as they briskly made their way to the exit. “Won’t be long before you’re back, Cher, not long at all.”
Schuyler exited the studio without a word. Once the door closed behind him, he inhaled deeply, clearing his nostrils of the lingering poppers with a blast of fresh air. Issac stood a few feet away, still mesmerized by the vial of dirt suspended in the bubble.
Was it worth it? The high of fantastic sex and a mind-blowing orgasm were wearing off and now shame reared its ugly head. He’d start beating himself up, hounding himself for breaking the vow he made to himself to never get that deep into Rae’s orbit again.
Was Issac worth this? Once the young man was gone, once Schuyler was alone without the distraction, all thoughts and urges would turn to Rae. Their connection strong, their ache for each other unending.
Did I do this because I wanted to?
He still wasn’t sure. Part of him wanted Rae inside him again; part of him never wanted to see the Cajun nightmare again.
“Are you okay?” Issac asked as he cautiously moved closer. “Is there anything I can do?”
Was there? Schuyler wasn’t sure what he needed.
“Food,” Schuyler announced.”
Chapter Thirteen
They sat in one of the back booths at the brightly lit, and colorful cafeteria Food House. It was Schuyler’s beloved comfort food spot, as evidenced by the towering stack of pancakes and bacon on his tray. He’d been quiet since the barn, and Issac had stopped trying to engage in conversation, choosing instead to pick at his chicken salad sandwich and chips.
“If you wanted to bottom, I’d have topped you,” Issac mumbled sheepishly, clearly still thinking about what he’d witnessed.
“If I’m in the mood, absolutely.” Schuyler loved the idea. “But it wouldn’t be like what you saw. That’s what happens when I’m with him—and why I can’t bewithhim. He’s infused dark magic into his very being. He’s used it to make his sweat poppers, his scent is amped up with pheromones, and his spit tastes like your favorite candy. He’s walking sex, literally, and it’s intoxicating. Too intoxicating.” Schuyler sighed, lamentably.
“Are you mad at me because of this?”
“What? No, not at all. Everything I did was my choice.” Schuyler reached over and stroked Issac’s hand, reassuring him.“I do have one question, though: how’d you do it?” Despite the intense sex he’d just experienced and the fuzzy brain he nursed, one thought still hounded him: the Push.
“Do what?” Issac questioned, confused.
“You sent a Push to me. Trying to prompt me to agree to Azrael. We never covered those kinds of unethical spells; how’d you know how to do that?” Schuyler was questioning a lot of things since feeling the Push; had Issac been lying to him?
“I didn’t… I don’t… I really dunno what you’re talking about,” he stammered. “I didn’tpushanything. I admit, I wanted you to say yes, partly for the dirt, but honestly, because I wanted to watch. He was hot. I kept thinking about how I low-key hoped you’d accept.” Issac’s big eyes went glassy at the thought of not being believed. “Honestly, I don’t know what you mean.”
There was the possibility that, in Issac’s excited state of arousal, combined with the lingering residual magic of the previous ritual, he could have sent the Push without realizing what he was doing. Magic operated intuitively after all.
“I believe you,” Schuyler said after a tense minute of silence, to Issac’s relief. “Some witches use those spells often, usually on Tourists and those in the outside world. I don’t. A lot of us don’t. There are unethical spells we know how to perform, how to recognize, but we’ve chosen not to use them. Coercing someone with magic leaves a scar—it’s bad mojo.”
“I would never,” Issac proclaimed. “Even if I knew how, which I promise I don’t, I’d still never do anything like that, especially to you.” Relived, he lit up with a dopey, adorable expression. He stopped picking at his sandwich, taking large bites instead.
Schuyler sat back, feeling satisfied the situation had cleared itself up. There was still the issue of Rae, but Schuyler would deal with that when he had to.
“Azrael said you cared for me back there, called me your lover. Am I?”
Schuyler’s reaction to the question caused his throat to gulp, which made the last piece of bacon he’d eaten go sideways in his throat, almost choking him. He quickly spat it out.
Issac watched the piece of meat hit the far end of the table.
Sky grabbed his water and swallowed a mouthful down. “Um… well, yes. I guess? I… don’t really know what to label things, but I know something is there.”
“I’ve never been anyone’s lover before,” Issac added with a smirk. “And if it’s ‘something,’ then we can discuss it when the time comes. If that’s now, okay; if not, whenever the time is right. But I’m open to the conversation.”
Schuyler marveled at him. There were moments like this when Issac’s maturity shone through, and Sky realized just how huge the difference between Issac and himself was at that age. Issac approached things with a clearer mind than Sky did at twenty-six. Schuyler had been far messier. “Are you open to having a different conversation?”
If there was any time to ask, it was now.
“Of course, whatever you want to talk about.”
