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And perhaps Wesley did need to stop underestimating people who weren’t himself, particularly when they were telekinetic and had superstrength.

“No one’s gonna believe them, especially when they’re running rum,” Rory said, teeth chattering. “Let the cops have them; I just want outta here before they show.”

“What were you going to tell us about Mr. Findlay?” Wesley said to Jade, as he and the women helped Rory and Sebastian to their feet. “Why was your hospital visit cut short?”

Jade blew out a very long breath. “The whole story is going to have to wait for the Magnolia,” she said. “But there was no point staying at the hospital when Alasdair is dead.”

“Dead?” Sebastian said in shock.

“Yes.” Jade met Wesley’s gaze. “And it might be murder .”

* * *

Even with his coat around his shoulders and Wesley pressed to his side, Sebastian shivered the entire car ride to the Magnolia. Luckily it didn’t take long to get from Yonkers back to Harlem, and in short time he and Rory were being bustled through the Magnolia’s alley door.

Stella was immediately pulled away by Mack the bartender while Sasha took Wesley off to see Jade’s brother, Benson. Jade was the one to take Sebastian and Rory backstage.

“The band is already here and in their dressing room, and Grover is holding a staff meeting in the office,” she said, as they made their way down a narrow hall with four doors.

A side table was pressed up against one wall, decorated with a lace cloth and several floral arrangements, presumably from Stella’s admirers.

The speakeasy had previously been a tobacco shop, but this part of the hall smelled like flowers.

“Which means there’s only one room left, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to borrow Stella’s boudoir. Sasha’s gone to find you dry clothes.”

Jade opened the final door, painted gold with one of Stella’s show posters hung on the outside.

Sebastian stepped inside to a space bursting with color and even more floral scents.

The molding had also been painted gold and the walls were papered with rows of pink roses, interspersed with more prints of Stella’s Paris and New York shows.

There was a pink-and-white-striped chaise, a giant vanity with a chair and its own lighting, and racks and racks of clothes, most of them gauzy or sequined.

Every flat surface held either more vases of flowers or bottles of perfume with labels in French.

“Aw geez,” Rory muttered behind him. “This place is exactly what we shoulda expected of the prettiest doll in New York.” He reached for a nearby table, picking up the closest bottle and taking a sniff. “You want to smell like the Hudson or orchids?”

Sebastian scrunched his nose.

Part of the room had been set up for clothes modeling and alterations, complete with a full-length mirror and changing area behind a tall, flower-decorated screen.

Sebastian let Rory have that corner and instead stood over by the vanity, where he hopefully wouldn’t drip river water on any of Stella’s clothes.

He’d just stripped off his coat and soaked button-up shirt when the door cracked open and Wesley poked his head in. “I am delighted to inform you that your best option for clean, dry clothes are spare tuxedos kept on hand for the band.”

“Why would that delight you?” Sebastian asked, awkwardly hopping on one leg to pull off his shoe and wet sock as Wesley came fully into the dressing room.

“Because,” said Wesley, as he squeezed a stack of towels and folded black-and-white clothes on the only available corner of space on the small table by the door, “every time you ought to wear a proper tailcoat, you refuse like a petulant child.”

“I have a tuxedo,” Sebastian protested, grabbing the back of the vanity chair for balance as he wrenched off the other shoe. “You’ve seen me in it.”

“I said a proper tailcoat,” Wesley said. “Not those modern dinner jackets you insist on. I’m afraid you can pout until you’re blue in the face and it won’t matter one whit. Tailcoat is all you’ve got, so you don’t have a choice.”

“Not true.” Sebastian gestured at Stella’s racks of clothes. “Look at all these dresses. I’m spoiled for choice.”

“You’re spoilt all right,” Wesley said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grudging smile. “Spoilt brat dodging proper clothes.” His gaze was on Sebastian, more specifically on the sheer T-shirt sticking to his skin. “Are you about to take that T-shirt off, by any chance?”

“Oh yes.” Sebastian pulled the T-shirt over his head, dropping it on top of his wet shirt. “I’m going to swap it for that little red number with the feathers.”

“In fairness, you’ve got the legs for it.” Wesley was watching him strip with complete attention. “And I am admittedly now speculating on the variety of outfits I could you get into when it’s just the two of us.”

“It’s not just the two of you.” Rory’s disgruntled voice broke the spell, from behind the screen. “If you’re gonna flirt, then scram already.”

Wesley’s eyes went heavenward. “Brodigan—”

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be out,” Sebastian promised.

“Fine,” Wesley said, sounding even more disgruntled than Rory.

He reached for the door, his gaze going to Sebastian’s bare chest one last time in a familiar look that rippled through him like Wesley had touched his skin.

It was the same look Wesley used to give him right before Sebastian found himself pinned to a wall or flattened against the nearest surface for some of the best sex of his life.

Wesley slipped through the door, back into the hall. Sebastian reached for the buckle of his belt.

He hadn’t been pinned or flattened to anything since the night he’d lost his magic. Suddenly finding himself powerless—truly powerless, in a way he’d only been for one terrible period of his life—had come with a lot of complicated feelings.

Wesley was bigger, heavier, and more knowledgeable about combat.

None of that had mattered when Sebastian had his magic and the ability to knock Wesley down and keep him there; it had been easy to play at helpless when he knew he could turn the tables at any moment.

Now, though, Sebastian didn’t have magic.

And if Wesley wanted, he could actually pin Sebastian down and make it very hard to escape.

Except Wesley wouldn’t hurt him physically any more than Sebastian would have hurt Wesley with magic.

And Wesley hadn’t pushed—wouldn’t ever push.

The battle scars of a bad past were something Wesley deeply understood and treated with utmost care.

Sebastian wasn’t going to be pinned or flattened to anything unless he asked for it again.

Perhaps ironically, the unconditional gentleness was making Sebastian crave the rougher handling again—if he could just get past those complicated feelings.

He peeled the rest of his clothes off and gratefully wrapped himself in a dry towel. He grabbed the other towel and the smaller of the two suits and carried it over to Rory’s corner. “Can we have our clothes sent to be cleaned?”

“Yeah, just leave your stuff here.” Rory poked his head around the screen. “Your clothes are nice ones, like Ace and Fine, right? Tailored for you and all that?”

“Well—I mean—”

“Look, it’s obvious you’re not wearing cheap stuff, even if you don’t show off with fancy suits,” Rory said dryly, as he stuck out a hand and grabbed the towel and tailcoat.

“Ace has a place. We’ll take it there. Just leave your stuff behind and don’t bother waiting for me—Fine’s waiting on you and it’s gonna take me forever to get this getup on. ”

Sebastian went back to the vanity, rough-drying his hair with the towel before pulling on the tuxedo pants with their ribbon stripe up the side.

He left the tailcoat folded on the vanity chair, along with the waistcoat and the bow tie, so that he was dressed in just trousers, suspenders and the button-up white shirt, which he rolled up the sleeves and left open at the collar.

As he stepped out of Stella’s dressing room, closing the door behind him, he found Wesley waiting in the hall.

“For fuck’s sake.” Wesley’s gaze locked straight on him. “I don’t know what’s more attractive, you half-dressed like this or knowing you did it just to give me a hard time.”

Sebastian casually leaned against the wall, tilting his head back so he could look up at Wesley. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said innocently. “I did it to be comfortable.”

“What bullshit.” Wesley’s gaze was now on the open collar and Sebastian’s throat. “You did it so my trousers would be uncomfortable.”

Sebastian grinned. “You keep thinking you’re the bigger villain, but I’m always going to be badder than you, Wes.”

Wesley moved closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving Sebastian plenty of time and space to shift away.

Sebastian’s heart was beating faster, but he didn’t want to move. He kept his spot as Wesley put a hand on the wall next to Sebastian’s head and leaned forward in a way that had Sebastian boxed in but not trapped.

“Truly, not a single person downstairs would believe me if I told them what an impertinent brat you actually are,” Wesley said, his voice lower. “To a one, they’d say, Sebastian is the sweetest, most polite of gentlemen; how dare you besmirch his character. Only I know the truth—”

Their moment was cut short by the door at the other end of the hall flying open.

“Teddy, are you—ugh, no, it’s just you two.”

Sebastian and Wesley hastily pulled apart. “Arthur!” Sebastian cleared his throat, trying to bring his voice back down to a normal pitch. “Were you looking for—”

“Rory, yes, obviously.” The door slammed shut behind Arthur as he strode down the hall. “For Christ’s sake, Wes, do you have to have your mitts all over Sebastian in Jade’s speakeasy? Let the poor man breathe.”

Wesley sputtered. “My what ?”

“Speaking of Jade, she wants to talk to us. But Rory and I are going to have words first.”

“My mitts —?”

Sebastian pointed to the gold door. “Rory is in there.”

“Thank you.” Arthur pushed past them and shouldered open the door. “Teddy, what in ten hells were you thinking—”

The boudoir door swung shut behind Arthur. Wesley looked very sour as he turned back to face Sebastian. “Rory is a terrible influence on Arthur’s language.”

Muffled voices came from behind the closed door.

“Ace, I’m fine. You’re being overprotective again.”

“This is not overprotective; this is exactly the right amount of protective. You told me I didn’t need to be there and then you fell in the fucking Hudson.”

“I think it’s cute Arthur is picking it up,” Sebastian said. “I like how Rory talks, like when he says are you screwy or calls something the cat’s meow.”

Behind the door, Rory and Arthur had raised their voices.

“I’m letting you teach me to swim—”

“Even a strong swimmer can struggle in icy water when the current is strong. And all because you lost your temper. Thank God Sebastian was there.”

Sebastian ducked his head, chest and face warming.

“Your imitation of Rory is on par with your imitation of me,” Wesley told him. “Which is to say it’s wretched, duck, I’m sorry. But Arthur’s right; you did save Rory today. It was foolhardy and idiotic and also very brave.”

Sebastian bit his lip. To go from kidnapping Rory under blood magic to actually being able to help—it felt good. The kind of thing friends did, not former enemies. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“ Aw geez, Ace, I’m sorry. ” Behind the door, Rory did sound genuinely contrite. “ ’Cause you’re right, I need to learn not to blow my lid just ’cause people are crooks. ”

“If you’re expecting me to forgive you just because you’re giving me those big eyes and sad voice, you can forget it. I’m going to stay cross with you this time.”

“What a filthy liar,” Wesley muttered. “Arthur is about to fold like a cheap hat.”

“Oh come on,” Sebastian said. “Who could ever stay mad at Rory?”

“I can, and have,” Wesley said unapologetically. “But I could stay angry with anyone—could write the damn text on holding grudges.”

“You forgave me,” Sebastian pointed out.

“Did I?” Wesley said meaningfully. “Or is this all an elaborate revenge plot where I’m taking my vengeance on you in my bed every night?”

Sebastian couldn’t help tilting his head back, bringing his lips closer to Wesley’s. “Maybe you should show me a little more of that vengeance.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “If you want.”

“I always want. That’s never in question.” Wesley’s gaze had gone to his lips. “And the things you make me want are diabolical.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian said innocently. “I am the sweetest, most polite of gentlemen. Stop besmirching my character.”

Wesley’s lips curled in a smile. “You are such an arse.” He was leaning down, Sebastian stretching up, then Wesley abruptly paused. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Sebastian said.

“Silence.”

Sebastian paused as well. The hallway seemed strangely quiet.

“Arthur and Rory appear to have stopped talking,” Wesley said.

Sebastian glanced at the closed gold door. “Rory was still changing when I left.”

Wesley’s eyebrow went up. “Meaning Arthur walked in there in a high fit of emotion and found Brodigan naked, and now they’ve gone silent?”

Sebastian’s and Wesley’s eyes met.

“Leaving now,” Wesley said, hastily pulling away, just as Sebastian said “Vámonos” and scrambled off the wall, and the two of them made for the door out to the speakeasy.