Page 43 of The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance #1)

So. Thio’s loaded.

Which, I knew, but there’s you have a car and a driver knowing, then there’s you have a penthouse apartment with a private elevator that lets off IN YOUR LIVING ROOM knowing.

I stand in the middle of said living room, jaw unhinged and not trying to hide it.

Floor-to-ceiling windows show the Philly skyline tucking itself up at night, city lights twinkling in lieu of stars we can’t see.

The two-story walls are white, which should look stark and cold, but the furnishings are black leather and reflective chrome, so the overall effect is sleek and—yeah, still cold.

Even with a fireplace going, flames crackling and warm.

It’s not the furnishings that make it sterile; it’s so clean here. None of the messy chaos that plagues Thio’s workstation at the lab. So though I know he lives here, heard the doorman greet him by name, saw him put his key into the elevator, it doesn’t feel like his home. It feels like a hotel.

The living area pours into a kitchen with a huge island dividing the space, the black marble swirled with veins of brown.

Dishes sit on the edge, all covered, but they scent the air with garlic and sharp tomatoes.

A dining table stretches behind the leather couch, and two places are set along with a bottle of wine and a vase of roses.

He bought me flowers.

For some reason, it’s the roses that render me speechless and I’m more than a little annoyed at the way my eyes sting.

Thio tosses his keys into a bowl by the elevator and rubs a hand through his hair. “So. Um. Want a tour?”

I realize I’ve been quiet for a solid minute, standing there motionless.

I feign adjusting my glasses to cover wiping my eyes. “Do I need a ticket?”

Thio’s lips quirk. “I’m sure the tour guide can fit you in.”

“I dunno. A place like this?”

I spin in a circle and spot a statue beside the fireplace. It’s metal and shaped like a… horse? No. A dragon? No clue. But it’s taller than I am and looks like it belongs in a contemporary art museum, not someone’s living room.

“Good gods, Thio. This is—”

“A lot.” He pulls at his hair again. “I know. It’s the family’s. I’m staying here while at school.”

“Ah.” Another slow circle. Oh, there’s a chandelier. Why not? It’s the size of my bed. I let out a whistle. “Damn. I get it now. Why you play along with them.”

I roll my eyes shut in a cringe.

“I’m sorry.” I turn to him, but his face is unreadable. “I didn’t mean—I know you’re not doing it for perks.”

He smiles, a wince. “I know.”

I look at the time on my phone. “Three minutes into this date, and I’ve killed the mood. A new personal record.”

Thio smiles for real this time and reaches out. I close the remaining distance, and the moment our fingers touch, a mushroom cloud bubbles in my stomach.

He sighs like he feels it, too. Like me being close is something calming.

“I like that you call me on it,” he says to our conjoined hands. “It’s keeping me focused on what matters. Getting out from under their thumb. Being able to support my mom on my own. I—” He hesitates. “I started figuring out who I need to contact. For after graduation.”

His silence is heavy, so I rub the back of his hand, watching goose bumps ripple up his arm.

Thio arches his gaze up to the cathedral ceiling. “I know I need to put plans in motion, but I don’t want to risk news getting to my family. The moment I take this step, the moment I officially reach out to any of their competitors…”

“It’s a bell you can’t unring. I get it.”

He’s stiff, the telling of this not alleviating his stress, but seeming to make it worse. The reminder of the responsibilities looming.

“What would you do?” I ask, gently brushing a piece of hair by his face. “What do you want to do, I mean? If you could. What’s your dream job?”

Thio gives me such a perplexed look, it’s heartbreaking.

“What would make you happy?” I try again. The question is a crowbar, and the way Thio’s biting the inside of his cheek is a locked chest.

“Sebastian—”

“I’m saying, maybe there’s a way to incorporate something you want to do into this. Maybe it isn’t self-sacrifice or bust.”

Thio twists our hands to thread his fingers with mine, holding the knotted tangle to his chest. His expression shutters, like he’s reached the max of his sharing abilities tonight, and normally, I’d let it drop.

I’d pivot the conversation to something safe.

But tonight is different. I want to know. I want to know everything.

I keep my eyes on his, eager, and he looks away with a low sigh.

“I always liked helping people,” he whispers. “The nurses who’ve cared for my mom especially—they’ve all been great. That’d be nice, I think. To actively help someone.”

I smile.

That’s what I want, too. The reason I’m doing everything I can to keep my upcoming job at Clawstar. To replace the bad in my life with active good.

I have no idea if there’s room for anything like that with the competitors he’s focused on reaching out to, but his tone, his posture, the tender look of longing on his face—

I squeeze his fingers. “You shouldn’t give up on that. If that’s something you want. I bet your mom wants that for you, too. For you to be happy.”

Thio’s eyes are watery as they shift over mine. Back and forth, back and forth.

His silence lasts so long I know I overstepped.

Shit. Am I guilting him into doing this? That’s not what I meant—

He seizes my mouth in his.

The kiss is brutal. I don’t try to assert dominance, just give it all up to him with a helpless moan as his tongue invades my mouth.

“Thank you,” he says when he lets me up for air. “I haven’t had—” A swallow, the scratch of it loud. “I haven’t had many—fuck, Sebastian.” He leaves kisses like breadcrumbs he’ll pick back up later as he works his way down my neck. “How did I find you?”

The words tattoo right where his lips are, at the intersection of neck and shoulder. The world goes evanescent, attention whittling to sensation only, and that sensation is a falling open.

He tries to pull at my belt, but I’m somehow conscious enough to constrict my fingers around his wrists.

“Dinner. You made me dinner.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And you bought me flowers.”

I feel his smile. Feel the stretch of his lips against my skin. I shiver.

“Yes.”

“I want to eat this dinner you made me next to those flowers you bought me.”

A bite on my neck, one that has my knees wavering, his arm banding across my lower back to hold me to him. He’s hard and I am, too, and if I grind on him once, twice, well, that’s not my fault, is it, when he’s gasping in my ear like that?

“Dinner,” he growls, hoarse.

He steps back, smooths out his shirt, and blows a long exhale. I’m sure I look just as disheveled, touching my kiss-swollen lips.

Exasperation is scrawled all over his features.

“Sit.” He points at the table.

“Barking commands at me. So chivalrous.”

His chin tips down. Prickles race up my spine, fizzling at the base of my neck. Warning, instinct; gods, it’s delicious now.

“Sit at the table, Sebastian,” he tells me. “Or I’m going to fuck you over the back of my couch, and we’ll never get around to eating.”

My breath catches. Doesn’t just catch; it’s fully reeled in, vanishing above the surface, leaving me down below in cool dark water and utter stillness.

I’d hoped that was where tonight would end up. We haven’t taken that step yet, not as fuck-buddies, but now? I didn’t know if it’d be on the table.

Apparently it’s on the back of the couch.

And hopefully his bed.

Possibly the shower.

Fuck.

I take the seat he indicated, the one closest to the flowers at the head of the table, and watch him over the island as he sets about reheating food with an easy warming spell. I point at the wine bottle, and he nods, so I pour us each a glass as I note his television across the room.

It isn’t a television. It’s a tank. A reptile tank? With stones and logs, a light, dishes for food and water.

And on a log, curled up in a tight oval, is a pink snake.

“Um. Thio?”

Ceramic clatters as he moves a lid. “Yeah?”

“Your familiar. What is it again?”

His eyes dart to the tank and he grins. “Ah. That’s Paeris.”

I watch him sort out food for a minute, waiting for his explanation. None comes.

“You have a magical creature,” I say. “Living in a reptile tank. Like a pet .”

He ladles something out of a baking dish. “You know very well he could go back to the Familiar Plane anytime he wants.”

“What if you need him for spell work?”

“Summoning him from here is the same as from another plane.” He shrugs one shoulder. “He’s happy here.”

I chuckle into my wineglass. “And you gave me crap for letting Nick be invisible. You’re as whipped by your familiar as I am by mine.”

Thio rounds the island and places two plates on the table, one for him, one for me, before taking the seat next to me.

I lean over the plate and inhale savory heaven. “What is this?”

Thio elegantly puts his napkin on his lap. Meanwhile, I’m already snatching up my fork like the uncultured mess he for whatever reason is attracted to.

“Rotini with grilled chicken and a sun-dried tomato parmesan cream sauce,” he tells me with a dismissive wave, and I pause to give him a dry look.

“Oh? Just that? Sound less impressed with yourself. Like using sun-dried tomatoes isn’t some Top Chef fancy business.”

Thio beams, cheeks pinking; I want to kiss them.

But the siren song—siren scent? Siren scent-song—of the pasta is screaming at me. I shovel in a bite.

And moan.

Gods, do I moan.

It’s tart and creamy and cheesy, savory and sweet and fuuuuuuck .

“ Holy shit, ” I mumble around my mouthful. “Where did you learn to— how did you—”

His smile could power the city. “You like it?”

“You can cook .” I take another bite. “Oh my gods. If there’d been any question about whether I put out on the first date, you can assuage your worries. I will. Done and done.”