Page 2 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)

At the sound of Alan’s voice, I straightened, turned about slowly, looked down at my half-empty wine glass, and realized that there was not enough wine in the world to make me a happy tom.

Not with Alan about at any rate. There was something about those unusual violet eyes behind those over-sized silver spectacles that seemed to dissect you as though you were another cadaver beneath his thin blades.

I shivered and eyed the white-haired young catkin.

Compared to me, Alan was slimmer, but he was still rather tall.

He was only a few inches shorter than me.

As such, it was difficult to avoid his hard gaze. And even more awkward questions.

I sipped my wine and contented myself with glaring in his general direction. The Earl of Brockhurst’s evening party had been going so well. Now I was trapped with the very person I had hoped to avoid.

“I haven’t tumbled anyone tonight. Yet.” I smirked then. “Ask me again in a couple of hours.”

“You’ve flirted with half of the people in this room.”

“Are you watching, Alan?”

“I can hardly not notice,” Alan said. His lips thinned with annoyance.

“Hm.”

I looked him up and down. Tonight, Alan had elected to wear his usual mage’s cap—a soft, black conical hat that hung backward with a single large purple tassel hanging from it.

His purple and black robes matched by a velvet black cloak swathed his slight figure, adding volume.

It was a well-known fact that the High Mage Alan Carrwick was particularly vulnerable to the cold.

However, wearing almost all of the curtains available in our hostess’s home was rather much , I thought.

Just as I was about to tell him, the young Lady Harriet swanned up. With an aloof smile, she gave Alan the barest of curtseys. That annoyed me.

What is so wrong with Alan? I wondered. Certainly, he is rather tall and, well, skinny, and a bit smarmy and boring and has the worst taste in naming things and perhaps his idea of good fashion was lacking…

I stopped. Alan might be rather complicated and difficult to understand, but he deserves some respect at least.

I offered the young lady a thin smile as she curtseyed more deeply before me, allowing me to glimpse the firm swell of her décolletage.

Swooping necklines were usually a sight I enjoyed, especially when presented with a pair of fine-looking breasts.

Tonight, however, I found myself put off a little.

Raising a glass to Harriet, I bowed respectfully.

Alan raised his gaze to the ceiling, clearly trying to decide whether he wished to remain or leave.

Harriet moved closer, gently laying a fine hand on my arm.

“I was hoping for a dance, Hugh.”

“Ah, yes.” I glanced at Alan. “Of course, milady.”

“Harriet,” she said with a hint of edge to her tone.

Her dark eyes fixed on mine with a particularly intense stare.

All the hair on my tail prickled. I knew that look.

I forced a smile and swept off with her on my arm.

The sooner we danced, the sooner I could deposit her back with her mama.

The last thing I wanted in my life right now was an obsessive lover.

While it was true that I enjoyed the company of many a molly and tom, I disliked the thought of keeping someone more permanent about.

Landis, sweet summer kit, had hopes for me.

I didn’t know how to tell him that I wasn’t ready quite yet.

The bloody battlefield of Marrasol still weighed on me.

I pushed the dark memories away and focused on my partner.

Keeping up light banter throughout the dance, I lightly flirted with Harriet.

The second daughter of Baron Frumsy, Harriet, was an intense young molly.

I had flirted with her. Kissed her a few times.

Nothing beyond that. I respected the Frumsys’s wishes.

Their daughter’s reputation was best left untarnished.

She was only eighteen winters old and had her whole life ahead of her. It was just not to be with me.

Once the dance ended, I escorted her to her mother, who received her with a wide smile but questioning eyes.

I bowed, made small talk, and departed soon after to join another crowd.

Party games were held. There was singing, followed by more dancing and feasting.

As the time ticked past midnight, I began to feel rather light-headed and warm.

An odd sensation, but perhaps it signaled fatigue.

I set down my glass and wandered out down the great hall.

That was when I realized that I felt rather warm all over.

A soft voice called out, and I caught a sweet scent—ripened peaches, red tea, and spring blossoms. I glanced up the circular staircase and caught sight of a slim silhouette.

A girl hesitated at the top of the stairs.

Her face was in shadow, but the scent was unmistakable.

Whoever it was had followed me out in hopes of a secret tryst. As the scent of her desire assaulted my senses, the warmth within me spiraled.

Heat pooled in my groin, and I staggered back, barely keeping upright.

A sharp voice called out a name. I heard some syllables but did not comprehend them. The world about me was now doused in an intense fire of longing.

“Hugh?”

A voice. A warm breath. A steadying hand around my back.

I clung to the slight figure of my savior.

Somehow I knew. Alan. My hands palmed his slender, muscled frame through what felt like seven layers of robes.

Underneath Alan’s outlandish garments, there was an attractive, pliable body.

Few could deceive my sharp eyes, but I had to make certain of my guess.

My fingers ghosted over the barest hint of a rounded rump.

“Alan.” I gasped.

I clutched at his chin. Looking up, Alan’s violet eyes were wide.

His spectacles had slid down to perch at the end of his pert nose, and beneath…

quivering lips were right there, begging me to claim them.

I wanted them. I wanted him. Well, I wanted someone, anyone, but Alan suddenly seemed like the most attractive mystery of them all.

My lips crashed into his. As I licked and nipped at his soft lips, Alan gasped.

He struggled for all of three seconds before returning my kiss with a gentle brush of his own.

My hands roved up and down his body, trying to find a clasp, a hem, anything that I could open, that I could enter. I needed to touch him. With growing certainty, I knew that Alan was hiding a very attractive body under all of those layers of clothing. They needed to come off. Right now.

“What-what are you hiding under there?”

My voice sounded hardly like my own as I pinned him against the wall. Alan was panting. A small squeak emerged as I managed to tear his collar half off and began to assault his throat.

“Hugh.” Alan gargled. “You’re not yourself!”

“I am feeling very like myself,” I growled back. “Never better.”

Alan’s fingers pressed against my forehead, then my temple, before running down my neck and pressing themselves over my heart.

“Something’s wrong, Hugh.”

“But… it feels so right.”

I ground myself into him, letting him feel how aroused I was.

Underneath his layers, my arousal could feel the echo of his desire.

Alan softly groaned in a twin echo of my mounting desire.

It seemed like Alan had lost his words. He writhed beneath my touch, arching his back even as I suckled on his lightly tan throat. Alan’s hands clutched at my shoulders.

“N-Not here,” he finally choked out. Tugging on my arm, he drew me back up the side stairs to a room. “My rooms for the night.”

Who cared? I didn’t. We could fuck out in the snow.

In the cloakroom. Behind a curtain up against a window.

It didn’t really matter. I was tormented with desire.

Alan’s scent wasn’t sweet like the young miss who had followed me.

He smelt of burnt wood, tangy incense, and petrichor.

That mystical scent of the air before it rains.

I wanted more. I wanted to taste all of it. All of him.

Tonight, I wasn’t going to fight this wave of desire. No. It was time to find a sliver of happiness. It would last only for a moment, but it would be worth it. It would be worth it.