Page 7

Sebastian absently touched the lion tattoo, where Wesley’s warm fingers had rested.

He did want to dance. He wanted to dance with Wesley .

After midnight, the Magnolia usually had couples of all kinds on the floor, but he and Wesley had never joined them; plenty of people from Fifth Avenue snuck into the Magnolia, and Wesley had been seen many times in Arthur’s circles.

Neither he nor Sebastian were willing to risk stories getting back to any of the Kenzie family or their political rivals, not when it could draw attention to Arthur and Rory.

So Sebastian buried the desire to pull Wesley to his feet, and instead stood and held out his arm to the young woman. She took it, and he walked her through the tables.

“What’s your name?” he asked, as they stepped onto the dance floor.

“Edith.”

He took her hand and experimentally spun her, and she moved easily with it, laughing.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, her hips softly swaying into the quick-quick-slow glide of their steps.

She was a good dancer, and they rapidly found their rhythm together among the other couples, slipping into that blissful place that came from movement and music.

As the song came to an end, he dipped her backward, and the band seamlessly transitioned from rumba to tango. As he pulled her back up, Edith grinned. “Another? If you’re having fun?”

He was having fun, and he loved the tango. He glanced over at the table, but Wesley was deep in conversation with Arthur, paying absolutely no attention to them. Sebastian pulled Edith in closer, hand on her lower back as they crossed the dance floor together, their cheeks close.

They made a half turn with brisk steps, her movements perfectly mirroring his as they leaned into the bend. “You’re very good,” he said into her ear.

“I must’ve seen The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse two dozen times.” She was flushed and smiling. “I could watch Valentino for hours.”

“Such a handsome man,” Sebastian agreed.

“You’re one to talk.”

What did he say to that? He glanced over at Wesley again, but Wesley had turned to Rory now, so Sebastian spun Edith in a half circle, lifting her all the way off the floor, so he wouldn’t have to come up with an answer.

They danced four songs together, the dance floor crowded and swinging, and Sebastian was grinning and breathless himself by the end. When the band finally took a break, he and Edith headed toward the edge of the dance floor together.

“I could use a drink,” Edith said.

“On me.” Sebastian really had enjoyed the dancing and it was the least he could do. “Then I must go back to my friends.”

“Must you?” Edith said lightly.

Sebastian offered her a sheepish smile. “I do.”

“Oh.” She smiled ruefully. “You got a girl already, don’t you? Of course you do. I should’ve guessed.”

“You are an excellent dancer,” Sebastian said earnestly. “And it is a joy to dance with a beautiful woman. I would still very much like to buy you that drink.”

She sighed, still smiling. “You even know how to turn a girl down like a gentleman. Yeah, all right, I’ll take that drink.”

There was a crowd at the bar, so they stood at the back. Sebastian made eye contact with Mack the bartender, who nodded at him.

“What would you like?” Sebastian started to ask Edith.

Only to have someone grab his shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and spin him around.

He was suddenly staring into the face of an angry white man of Arthur’s size. “Who the fuck are you?” the man demanded. He was flushed red across his face, angry or drunk or both. “You dancing with my girl?”

“Billy, I told you, I ain’t seeing you anymore,” Edith snapped.

Sebastian tried to pull away, but Billy’s fingers dug painfully into his shoulder. “She says she’s not seeing you,” Sebastian said, low and angry.

“I say she is,” Billy said, through clenched teeth.

With a hard tug, Sebastian wrenched himself out of Billy’s grasp. “Leave her alone,” he started to say.

But Billy had already cocked his arm back.

Sebastian instinctively reached for his magic.

It was like reaching for a gun and finding only the holster. Reaching for a sword to find the scabbard bare.

Too late, Sebastian remembered his magic was gone, and he didn’t have the time or coordination to duck.

Well shit was all he had time to think, and then Billy’s fist was flying toward his face.

* * *

Wesley was doing an excellent job of pretending not to watch Sebastian, if he did say so himself.

And it wasn’t bloody easy, thank you very much, because Sebastian was graceful as a stag out on the dance floor.

The girl was quite good as well, light on her feet as Sebastian spun her around.

The pair of them looked like they were having fun.

And if Sebastian had effortlessly dipped the girl nearly to the floor and then pulled her into his arms, and Wesley had pulled out his first cigarette in three days, well. That was nobody’s business but Wesley’s.

Arthur was deep in conversation with Jade, but Rory was eying Wesley. “Sebastian keeps looking over here, you know. Trying to check in with you.”

The music was changing and—oh, brilliant, a fucking tango , why not give Sebastian and his partner reasons to all but frot on the dance floor? Wesley forced his eyes back to his smoke.

“He oughtn’t bother.” Wesley struck a match. “He’s a grown man. And more to the point, I’m a grown man, one who appreciates that dancing is an art, and whose partner is welcome to dance his way through Manhattan if he likes.” He lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“Uh-huh,” Rory said skeptically. “So you’re not going to admit you’re jealous?”

Wesley blew out a harsh stream of smoke. “Even if I was—which I’m not —that would be my problem, not Sebastian’s.”

“Uh-huh,” Rory said again.

Sebastian had pulled the girl in very close. Because it was the tango and that was how it was danced. Wesley cleared his throat. “I have an open tab at the bar. You can put anything you like on it if you bring me back a whiskey neat.”

“Deal.” Rory stood and disappeared.

Wesley brooded through three cigarettes and two songs, and then Rory was back. He set a glass in front of Wesley, then sat down again with his own soda. “I started a tempest in here once ’cause I was jealous.”

“In here?” Wesley raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was at Mr. Zhang’s library.”

Rory flushed. “Yeah, there too, but see, you gave me a reason to be jealous at Zhang’s place,” he added, pointing at him.

“But before that, I was in here, and I got jealous just ’cause Ace told me he needed to bring his ex as a guest to a society event.

I had the ring relic on and I lost control of the wind: shattered every bottle on the shelf, smashed the glasses, overturned the tables—I think I even broke the drum set. ”

Wesley brought the cigarette back to his lips. “Did you really?”

Rory nodded. “Ace never said but I know he footed the bill. I probably wrecked half this place, and all because I heard you were going with him to a wedding.”

“Christ.” Wesley took another drag. “You know, it’s frightfully decent of you to admit all this to me and try to make me feel like less of a fool. You really need to stop being the better man of the two of us.”

Rory huffed a kind of half laugh. “Not a better man. Just sympathetic about what it’s like when half the world wants your fella.”

“He says that as if he isn’t the most adorable creature in this bar,” Arthur said, turning to join their conversation as Jade and Zhang got up and disappeared in the direction of the stage.

“Shut up,” Rory said fondly. “I’m sorry for Fine, all right?”

“Oh God, Brodigan feels sorry for me.” Wesley exhaled the smoke. “I’ve truly hit a new low.”

“I just don’t blame you,” said Rory. “I mean, that’s one pretty doll Sebastian’s dancing with.”

“Not helpful,” Wesley snapped, just as Arthur said, “Excuse me?”

“Well, she is,” Rory said. “Pretty doll that can dance like that—who wouldn’t be jealous? And now they’re at the bar and he’s buying her a drink.”

Wesley had been leaning forward to tap his cigarette over the ashtray, but at Rory’s comment, his gaze stole, without his permission, over to the bar.

Sure enough, Sebastian and his dance partner were part of the crowd waiting for the bartenders.

Wesley forced his gaze back to the ashtray.

Yes, Sebastian was having several dances and now a drink with a pretty girl, but Wesley wasn’t having feelings about it.

Wasn’t green with envy or feeling blue or any of the other hyperbolically colorful phrases coined by melodramatic poets with even less emotional control than Rory Brodigan.

“It’s fine,” Wesley said curtly, maybe to Rory, maybe to himself, as he tapped his cigarette. “After all, obviously I would never destroy half a speakeasy over a fit of emotion.”

A sudden commotion made Wesley raise his head. His gaze was drawn to the side of the crowd, where a blond man Arthur’s size was pushing his way toward Sebastian and the young lady. The big man’s face was flushed with anger and too many drinks, like a bull about to make a bad decision.

Wesley was already on his feet when the man grabbed Sebastian by the shoulder—already halfway to the bar and had a full view when the man’s fist connected with Sebastian’s face.

And Wesley saw red.

“Get off him.” He was between Sebastian and the angry man so fast he didn’t remember moving. He shoved the blond man backward, hard enough he stumbled and staggered into the watching patrons.

“Who the fuck are you?” The blond man straightened up by pushing off some poor bystander, sending the unlucky fellow crashing into a third man drinking at the bar. “Edith’s my girl.”

“Hey, watch it!” the third man snarled as he sloshed his own drink all over the bar. Dark liquid ran over the counter’s edge and onto the lap of a woman, who yelped and jumped up from her stool.

“Billy, stop it,” snapped Sebastian’s dance partner, Edith apparently. She was bent over next to Sebastian, who had a hand on his face, smeared with red. Edith was speaking to Sebastian, but Wesley couldn’t hear what she was saying over the ringing in his ears. This shit had made Sebastian bleed.

Two men had grabbed onto the blond man, Billy, in the futile attempt to restrain a giant arsehole fueled by jealousy and alcohol. Wesley shifted his weight, automatically falling into an old fighting stance from the war.

“What’s it to you if I hit that guy?” Billy jeered at Wesley, as he yanked his arms free from the other patrons. “You think he’s pretty?” And he came charging back at Wesley with a drunken bellow.

Wesley didn’t bother fighting with honor. He dodged Billy’s attempted blow and instead grabbed him by the arm, using Billy’s own momentum to twist him around and slam his head down on the bar on top of a row of shots.

“You hit the wrong man,” Wesley said into his ear, as drinks went flying, glass shattered and angry shouts went up.

“What the fuck?” someone snarled. “This was a new suit!”

Wesley had to dodge again as a different fist came flying his way. And all at once the mix of alcohol and angry men exploded in a whirl of shouts and fists. Wesley lost sight of Sebastian as the crowd closed in, shoving and swinging.

Some distant part of Wesley registered that he probably owed Rory an apology.

He needed to find Arthur, or even better, Jade with her telekinesis and Sasha with her superstrength. He pushed through the fight, twisting around a pair of men locked together like wrestlers, dodging a drunken want-to-be boxer—

Only to come face-to-face with Billy again, who had blood on his face and a knife in hand.

“Gonna hit the right man this time.” Billy was already bringing the knife up—

And Wesley’s knees gave out like they were suddenly made of water. He and Billy both hit the Magnolia floor, the knife tumbling out of Billy’s hand and rolling off.

It couldn’t be—

But before Wesley could process the sensation, or really even blink, his limbs were his own again.

“The fuck was that?” Billy started, already twisting on the floor in the direction of the knife.

Wesley leapt to his feet and kicked the knife toward the bar. Billy cursed, but as he grabbed for Wesley’s foot, a different, even larger boot landed on Billy’s chest and held him down.

“Don’t even think about it.” Arthur looked over at Wesley, holding Billy captive under his foot. “Did you just start a brawl in Jade’s bar?” he demanded, as men fought around them.

Wesley huffed. “It wasn’t actually my intent—”

“Someone will have called the cops by now.” Arthur pointed at Wesley, then back at himself. “We are not going to let them raid the Magnolia. Wipe your face, dust off your poshest voice, and then you and I are going outside to handle the police.”

“All right.” There was something wet on Wesley’s cheek, likely from where he’d hit the floor. Best not to think about what it might be. “But this cad under your foot,” he said, as he wiped his cheek. “I want him thrown in the dock.”

“Wesley.”

“Drawn and quartered.”

“This is not feudal England, Lord Fine , these are not your peasants—”

“He laid hands on Sebastian.”

Arthur stilled.

“He drew blood,” Wesley said, “from Sebastian, who has no way to defend himself anymore, because he gave up his magic to save my life.”

Arthur frowned.

“Let me up, you fucking nancies,” Billy snapped, from under Arthur’s foot. “You mad I hit your boyfriend ? Cops probably wanna hear about that .”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “New plan. First, I have a word with this gentleman. Then we bring him out with us to give to the police and pin this whole mess on him.”

“I love a perfect plan,” Wesley said.