Page 75

Morning arrived in the shape of Iyoni, waking us up as she wandered in, wearing her usual sleep attire of a short white T-shirt and black thong.

Kara stretched slowly, rubbing herself against me, which did little to help settle my morning wood.

“Oh, you’re up!” she said, which I thought at first was directed at me, before realizing she meant Iyoni. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” Iyoni replied, stopping a few feet away. She ran her gaze over the pair of us with the sort of look one saves for adorable kittens. “How are my two favorite lovebirds?”

“Better for seeing you,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on her face and not let it trail down over all the bare skin she was showing. “Are you fully recovered?”

“That potion was powerful stuff. My back feels stiff, but that’s all.”

Her choice of words led to a briefly uncomfortable moment before Kara gave a giggle, and twitched her ass against my groin.

Then she rose, the blanket covering us getting pulled partway off as she did. I made a quick grab for it, protecting my modesty. Kara didn’t seem to care, letting it slip from around her. She padded over to Iyoni, unashamed in her nakedness, and gave her a hug. “We were worried about you.”

I was worried about her. If Kara had been, she’d covered it well.

“I’m fine.” Iyoni returned the hug without any hesitation, smiling at me over Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m really glad you’ve recovered,” I said. “You know what fixes up injuries? Pancakes.”

“Oh, I could murder a good breakfast,” Iyoni replied. She flopped down on the other sofa and pulled a cushion over to hug. “Who’s cooking?”

Kara shot me a quick glance. “I’m going for a shower,” she said firmly. “If there’s cooking to be done, and you want to eat it, then not me.” She walked off, her hips swaying, throwing me a quick smile before disappearing around the door.

“I had some boxers around here somewhere,” I muttered, sitting up, holding the blanket over my lap.

“On the floor.” Iyoni pointed by the end of the sofa. She tilted her head, lips curling in a half-smile. “Did you guys have sex where I sleep?”

“Er … you could use a different sofa?” I fished up my boxers, trying to figure out if I could get them on without flashing Iyoni and while still retaining any dignity.

“I could,” she agreed. “I might not.”

I was never quite sure what to make of those comments. Her poker face was so serene, I couldn’t tell if she was teasing, encouraging me, or just trying to provoke a reaction.

Maybe it was about time I asked, but if we were going to have difficult conversations, I wanted breakfast first.

I decided against bothering with the boxers, wrapping the blanket around my hips instead. “Going to get dressed.”

“It’s Sunday,” she said, leaning back into the sofa and clutching the pillow like it was a teddy bear. “It’s a chill day.”

“Some clothes, even so,” I said, giving her a smile and wandering into the bedroom to retrieve a clean pair of jeans. As a nod to her casual attitude, I didn’t bother with a shirt, but padded out, still barefoot, and began to mix some pancake batter.

“I haven’t had pancakes for years,” Iyoni said, abandoning her pillow to wander over and lean on the kitchen island, watching me cook.

“What?” I asked in disbelief, trying not to think about the way her ass jutted out in that thong. Luckily, the island was between us, allowing me to concentrate. “Pancakes are a staple.”

“I usually just do coffee for breakfast,” she said wistfully. “Living alone, y’know? Not really worth cooking.”

“I like cooking.” I left the batter to settle and opened the fridge. “We’ve got bacon, or blueberries and bananas. Preferences?”

“Bacon, please.”

“Me too,” Kara said as she walked back in, wearing a silk robe that replaced the long-suffering, much-lamented kimono. It was basically the same, still cream, but a lot longer—proof she’d always had it. She gave Iyoni’s ass a swat then leaned on the counter beside her, watching me.

“Bacon it is.” I pulled out the pack of rashers and chucked them on the side, while I heated three griddles on the hobs, intending to get an assembly line going.

“Watching Xan cook is hot,” Kara said.

“Especially shirtless,” Iyoni added.

“Thank you, ladies.” I gave them a mocking half-bow, then got to work making the first batch of pancakes.

With enough butter and maple syrup to cover a week’s calories, plus several cups of coffee, it wasn’t a bad breakfast if I do say so myself.

The girls enjoyed it, judging from their requests for seconds and thirds.

It took us an hour at a pleasantly relaxed pace, and we ran out of batter before they ran out of appetite.

“I should’ve made more,” I said, dripping the last of into the pan.

“You can tomorrow,” Kara replied with a wink.

A two-toned chime rang through the apartment, and both girls perked up. “Finally!” Kara said, hurrying to an intercom by the door to the living room. “Hello?”

“Delivery for you, Miss Halden,” a disembodied voice announced.

“Great, I’ll be right out,” Kara said, pressing a button to end the call.

I raised my eyebrows pointedly at her thin silky robe, her nipples pushing happily against the material. “Maybe I should go?”

They exchanged a glance. “All right,” Kara said reluctantly, “but don’t look at the packages.”

Flipping the pancake to cook on the other side while I played mailman, I walked through to the main door.

A man in the same uniform as the concierge held two packages, one medium sized with the flexibility suggesting clothing, the other a box, large and long, resting on its end beside him.

His expression didn’t change as he took in my half-dressed state; he just handed them over.

“Thanks,” I said, closing the door with my foot and carrying them back through into the living room without giving into curiosity and peering at the packaging.

Kara and Iyoni were there to greet me, quickly snatching both packages and disappearing toward the bedroom.

I was left with the last pancake, which I didn’t really mind; the girls had eaten more of the previous servings than I had.

Kara’s shower started running, which was an unexpected development, but it meant I had a little while to myself. I pulled out my phone, surprised to see it was already 11:40 AM. Nice to have a lazy Sunday morning.

The news reports were all of the escaped convicts from SPAR.

I skimmed the first report then skipped the rest. The president was in trouble for saying stupid things again, and the Supernatural Council in Europe was trying to apply regulations to charms and potions. Good luck to them implementing that.

I checked my messages from Emma and Paul, surprised to see that the last ones had been over a week before.

They’d both texted me to laugh at Kline’s news conference where she’d denied I was a warlock, but since then only Emma’s ‘why didn’t you tell me’—right after the vid from the park had gone viral.

She’d never replied to my response, and I hadn’t thought to check.

Maybe they felt our old lives were no longer compatible with my new existence, and though it saddened me to admit it, there may have been some truth to that.

What did the Assistant Director of SPAR have in common with a couple of friendly undergrads from Bay Uni?

The strange thing was that it didn’t bother me to think of myself like that. It seemed I’d already mentally checked in to Marlow’s job offer. I’d take a couple of days off for the beginning of this coming week, then reach out to her if she hadn’t got in touch by then.

Though I strongly expected I’d hear from her bright and early tomorrow.

“Xan?” Kara called from outside the door to the living room.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sitting on the sofa?”

“No. Do you want me to be?”

“Yes, please.”

I dropped my plate and coffee cup in the sink and made my way over as directed, flopping down with a building sense of anticipation. “Ready.”

Kara came in first. Her robe was gone; she was back in a kimono.

It was whiter than the cream one she’d had before, but with hints of a black design threaded subtly into the silk.

It still only came down barely to the top of her thighs, which for me was the largest appeal.

She’d brushed her hair out, and it flowed down her back in thick, straight black lines.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, rising to take her into my arms, only for her to stop me with one hand.

“Thank you,” she said quickly, giving me a smile, “but please stay seated, Master.”

I sank back into the sofa with wry acceptance.

Iyoni walked in, and my breath caught in my throat.

Her hair was brushed out too, long and blonde and fine, but it was her matching kimono that stole the show. Hers was in black, threads of white running through, the exact mirror of Kara’s.

She walked to stand next to Kara, watching me with a shy expression I hadn’t seen on her face before. They slipped an arm around each other’s waists and stood, awaiting my judgment.

The two girls were the same height, but there the similarities ended. Kara was curvier in hip and bust, where Iyoni was slim and almost delicate. Kara’s honey-golden skin seemed even darker against Iyoni’s pale complexion. One fair, one dark, each wearing the complimentary kimono to the other.

I stared at them both, grinning like a fool, so wrapped up in the vision that was them that it didn’t even occur to me to say anything.

“Well?” Kara asked after a moment, pulling me from my reverie.

“You’re … gorgeous. Both of you. Abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous .”

Both of them smiled at me. “You like?” Iyoni asked.

“Like?” I echoed. “I love seeing you dressed like that.”

“Or undressed,” Iyoni said with a coy smile.

They slipped their arms from around each other, both giving a twirl in a pre-arranged display, the hems of their kimonos flaring out and flirting dangerously with flashes of skin.

I exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Blood pressure through the roof.”

Kara giggled. Iyoni gave a serene smile, but her eyes sparkled with delight.

“Am I allowed to get up and hug you yet?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Kara said playfully. “We’re not quite done.” She pointed a finger imperiously at me. “Stay!”

I chuckled and watched the two gorgeous girls walk away, showing a good amount of leg and two very attractive bottoms.

They came back in a moment later, carrying the longer box between them. I knew it wasn’t heavy—not for supes—their joint presentation of it carrying some other significance.

They glanced at each other, then spoke in unison. “Happy birthday.”

My eyebrows rose. “Birthday?”

“I never got you a present,” Kara explained. “Your birthday was on Halloween, which was when we met. I wanted to get you something to mark the day.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I genuinely don’t think I will ever forget that day, no matter how long I live.”

“A very long time, I hope,” Iyoni said. She smiled gently. “This present was Kara’s idea.”

“It’s from both of us,” Kara added firmly. They set it down before me. “Go ahead.”

Curious, I leaned forward and tugged off the packing tape, the box opening in a flurry of packing peanuts, and the edge of the case instantly recognizable in shape.

“A guitar!” I said grinning, feeling for the handle and pulling it free, scattering packaging across the carpet. The case was stamped with C. F. Martin it hinted at her skin tone. A truly beautiful instrument.

“I’m … touched,” I said quietly. “It’s almost as beautiful as you two.

” I left it on the floor and stood up from the sofa.

“I won’t be denied my hug any longer. Come here, both of you.

” The two most beautiful girls pressed themselves into me, hands roaming over my chest as I slipped my arms around their waists and pulled them close. “It’s a wonderful present.”

Iyoni melded herself to my side. “I can’t wait to hear you play.”

“Do you know many songs?” Kara asked.

“A few,” I said, grinning. I’d have to dust off some old favorites, just as soon as I tightened the strings and tuned it. Half of me was itching to pick it up and have a strum, but the other half was quite content with the two armfuls of beauty I was currently focused on.

I gave Kara’s waist a squeeze as a thought occurred. “How did you know my birthday was on Halloween?”

“Oh …” She chewed her lip, giving me a demure look. “I asked Natalie. It’s in SPAR’s records. My father gave them a copy of your driving license.”

I blinked. “How the hell did Dacien get my driving license?”

She gave a small shrug. “It’s my father. I’ve learned not to question it over the years.”

“Uh-huh. And when’s your birthday?”

“Not until April,” she said, batting my chest. “You have some time.”

“Iyoni next, then.” I squeezed her waist too. “Christmas isn’t far away.”

Iyoni grimaced. “I don’t like my birthday.”

“Neither do I,” I said with feeling, “but this year we’ll makes yours special.”

The two-tone chime of the intercom rang through the apartment again.

I raised an eyebrow at Kara. “More deliveries?”

“No,” she said with a note of confusion, slipping from under my arm to go and answer it. “Hello?”

“You have a guest, Miss Halden,” the concierge’s voice rang out. “A Mr. Moreau.”