Magic

DISCLAIMER ==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2005 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:

• if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002

Although I might gripe a lot about the outdated stereotypes associated with witchcraft, there are some that I could only wish were true. For instance, it would have been great to be able to twitch my nose and have a sumptuous, four-course meal appear before me perfectly set on the table. That simply wasn't true however since I still had to peel, slice and dice the essentials all by myself. And cook them. Fortunately, although she had an unnatural obsession with greens and a healthy diet, my mother was a wonderful cook who managed to channel most of her love of cooking to me.

Unfortunately, witches' magic was mainly practical. Starting a blazing inferno was simply out of the question but I could light the candles through magic. And I could certainly raise the flames on a stove.

Judging by his enormous appetite, small salads and vegetarian lasagna weren't going to satisfy his tastebuds. With his carnivorous genes, Clayton leaned heavily towards protein - and lots of it. Of course with the ravenous metabolism his genes had given him, he could swallow a mountain of fried, fatty food and still remain as fit and slim as ever. Damn him.

What were my real intentions for inviting him to dinner? Bringing Clayton in was akin to opening the hen house to the wily fox and I'd been the fool of a chicken who'd swung the door wide open. Yet something had loosened my tongue enough to offer up an invitation. Maybe it was the fact that after his long drive, Clayton looked tired, frustrated - and for once, almost sweetly human despite his matinee idol looks.

Never one to tolerate waiting, the man himself stalked restlessly around the kitchen as I stood preparing our dinner. A quick shower while I was preparing dinner had taken the edge off somewhat - and he even managed to be reasonably civil while I cooked his dinner. There had been one crazy impulse to jump into the shower with him but I managed to suppress such ignoble thoughts but it didn't stop me from imagining Clayton soaping himself up in my bathroom. Turning myself into his lucky soap certainly wasn't in the scope of my powers but on that day, I wished I could. Trying to be of service, he'd offered to help earlier but seeing his ineptitude in the kitchen was painful to say the least and I quickly banished him to the role of eye candy which suited him far better.

Observing me from his safe perch by the kitchen window, Clayton smiled. "I didn't know you cooked."

"You don't know many things about me." Picking up the mittens, I reached down and pulled out the pie I'd prepared earlier. A sign of precognition knowing he'd arrive? Alone, I certainly wouldn't have been able to finish all this food by myself and yet, I'd prepared a veritable feast.

The small smile just curling up his sensuous lips grew wider. "I'm certainly learning a lot about you today, ornery bugger."

It was the longest time we'd spent together without interruption since we'd first met. Earlier, we'd had rampaging werewolves, crazed sorcerers - and what had to be the worst, relentless media hounds who knocked on my door day and night. There hadn't been the time to sit back and think over our murky relationship till I'd returned to Black Falls to pick up the threads of my old life.

Even then, his lies and deception couldn't face up to the fact that he had endangered his own life to save mine. And the fact that he had the most gorgeous green eyes I'd ever seen. In the light of the evidence I'd uncovered about his past, it was difficult to see how I could still feel this uncommonly strong attraction towards him. Some odd, indefinable force drew us together in spite of the various reasons I had for us being apart. So apart from avoiding Clayton as far as I could, it was obvious that I still hadn't made up my mind which way to go in regards to Mr Sizzling Hot Sorcerer.

All I knew was that my dinner would knock the man's socks off. The pie was settling beautifully and I now had to see to the lasagna I'd heated up from earlier. It would have been enough for an invading army but not for Clayton. For him, I had another whole chicken roasting in the oven. "I didn't travel for miles to get a no. I didn't come all the way here to Black Falls to see the man who's been saying no to me since the day we first met. Who's the ornery one now?"

Leaning back on his haunches, he smirked at me. "Hell and here I thought you'd be impressed by my tenacity. I hear it's a good trait to have in a boyfriend."

For the past hour, the earlier sly innuendoes had progressed to become blatant hints. Patience wasn't one of his good traits and he was this close to forcing a diamond ring on my finger - whether I fucking liked it or not. "Clayton."

"John?" He replied in the same minatory tone, giving me a wicked grin and a wink of his vividly green eyes.

Standing on her daily pulpit, Holy Aunt Hester always preached the fact that the sorcerers were the irreclaimable sinners and after the inquisition, the witches were supposed to repent and show them the right way. What did it say about my vaunted witches' morality now that I wanted to sin around with a married heterosexual sorcerer? No doubt if Miss Hester Blackwell somehow caught wind of this sordid affair, she'd be spinning around in her grave.

Taking a chance, he came off his perch and walked towards me, his canine nose sniffing. "Smells good."

"It's my mom's lasagna. Won the baking award in Black Falls three years in a row." Digging into the tray, I spooned out a bite to try. Oddly enough, the recipe had been in my family for generations despite the fact that there had been no Italian blood in my family - that I knew of anyway. The closest I'd gotten to Mediterranean heat was Clayton James.

"Sweet." Almost reverently, Clayton took a deep breath as his lips moved close to my neck. Barely inches apart, the man stood close enough that the sheer heat from his solid body was almost palpable. "But I'm not talking about the food."

Fatigue and frustration might have gotten him riled up earlier but he'd certainly gotten his silver tongue back. Clayton had moves and he made them now as those eager hands of his slipped smoothly around my waist to draw me close. "Move aside before I..." I started the words to a spell just as he hugged me tight from the back.

"But darling." Clayton whispered slyly to me. Before I could make a reply, he started planting soft kisses on the back of my neck, heading towards the edge of my jaw. "Your little spell won't work on me twice."

Given such a challenge, I tried to finish my chant only to have him spin me around and plant a kiss on me. Warnings about fire hazards flew out my head as he ran his wonderful lips across mine. One sizzling Clayton James kiss and I went from outrage to outrageous. Drawn in spite of myself, my free hand reached around his broad shoulders, drew down his powerful flanks to that perfect ass.

As I got one hand on what had been termed the hottest ass in Demon Inc, he let out a deep, appreciative chuckle. "Guess I don't have to say grab my ass, huh."

It was the perfect splash of cold reality but I didn't jump away as I should have. Slowly easing my way out of his embrace, I nudged him meaningfully on the hard curve of his pecs. Damn they were really hard. "Clay, you wouldn't want to pull that again. I'm cooking your dinner and you just don't know what I could accidentally put into the soup."

"Wolfsbane again?" Clayton stepped away at the last moment, leaving me intentionally breathless. "Poison in a witches' brew and here I thought you hated cliches."

From the counter, I aimed a glare over my shoulder at him and flicked my spoon at him. A hasty ramble of words came from him and the sliver of tomato sauce hung in mid air between us. For a man who hadn't been weaned on magic since birth, his speed and delivery was impressive to say the least but I certainly wasn't going to tell him so. Unfair as it might sound, magic seemed to come to him almost naturally.

Still the sight of the floating tomato sauce had me smiling. "Could have frozen Allen and saved us a hell of a lot of trouble."

"Doubt my teeny weeny spell would have worked on a 300 pound werewolf." He replied ruefully, unconsciously rubbing his newly clean-shaven jaw. "And I doubt I could keep myself from wanting a go at him. Seriously wanted to wreck that bastard's piss-ugly face especially after he suckerpunched me that one time."

That certainly explained the crazed bloodlust in his eyes when he'd burst into my house. According to the witches' Good Witch Glinda tenets taught to me by my aunt, I was supposed to eschew all maiming, stabbing and killing, to do my best to protect the innocents, but that one time in the woods of Black Falls, I'd slipped, allowing Clayton to do what he did best, and I'll be damned if I was going to be sorry for it.

"Hope your arm's feeling better."

Surprised at my mention of that harrowing day, he replied quietly. "Don't worry about that, we heal fast enough." Lifting his left arm, he flexed and allowed the golden-tanned, well-toned muscles to ripple tantalizingly for a moment. I had to tell myself that the thrill of desire running down my spine was simply admiration for a well-made machine and not pure insane, come-fuck-me lust.

I certainly didn't fool Clayton. The sudden flare of colour in his green eyes confirmed the fact that he did know what I was feeling and as he stepped nearer again, I hastily turned back to the stove.

"Oh, look, the chicken's done," I exclaimed as I flipped open the oven door. Turning around with the chicken in my hands, I found myself almost face to face with him.

"You're done. I'm not." Batting the sauce in the air away, he tugged at my sleeve gently, pulling me towards him. Red hot platters wouldn't hurt him in the least but I was still tempted to give him a sting. "Look, I know you witches love the non-confrontational, no-balls pacifist tactics but avoiding the issue isn't going to solve anything. You know we had something going ..."

With the chicken plate between us, I stepped up to him, my dark eyes daring him with a challenging look. "You want confrontational?"

"Yeah?" Totally unafraid, he grinned tauntingly.

"Blasted demon whoreson. Then take this damned chicken to the fucking dining table. Confrontational enough for you?" Smashing the tray of chicken on his face would be fun for me but it would make the time I'd spent preparing it a waste, and the unconventional bastard might just lick it off his face anyway.

"You are one crazy witch." A low, appreciative laugh came from him. Instead of harping again on the issue of our nonexistent relationship, he received the plate with a gentle half-smile. "You know what, I could actually get used to this."

So could I but I wasn't actually going to tell him that.

The issue of where he was going to sleep hung at the back of my mind. Sure, I had bedrooms to spare in the house but room and board wasn't the problem at hand. Rather than trying to avoid him, the problem was actually keeping me from walking over to his bed, like one of those stupid television virgins who insist on walking blindly to their doom. My own unwavering lust notwithstanding, I also had his unnatural animal lusts to contend with. The fact that his dirty little mind was replaying various little sex montages was oddly disturbing to say the least, and more than a little arousing. Perverted demon boy had obviously attributed an unparelled flexibility to my hapless spine in his sex soaked dreams since I seemed to submit to various back-breaking moves without complaint.

His large, powerful hands gripped the edge of my hips, forcing me down on the dark oak expanse of the table. The heat and the force of his erection drew theateningly across the tight cleft of my naked buttocks and I let out a soft, throaty moan - of pleasure or of distress I couldn't tell for sure. As I inevitably struggled for dominance, he let out a rough, almost guttural laugh before he leaned down on me again, his lips biting down hard on the edge of my ear before travelling downward along the edge of my jaw.

The vivid images planted in my head left me almost breathless, with a heavy ache in my groin, and this time, I turned to him, a touch of barely concealed irritation in my voice. "Not on the dining table, Clayton!"

Surprised at my sudden change of mind, he paused with the tray he was holding. Confusion reigned in his features. "Huh. What? You want to eat somewhere else?"

Realizing that I was referring to something else entirely, I backpedaled hastily. That's the problem with mind-reading, sometimes it's a little hard trying to dissociate the dangerously erotic porn movie going on in his imaginative head with what he was actually saying. How he could have such lusty debauchery playing in his mind while he went on calmly around in his work was an amazement to me. "It's nothing. The table's fine, I just meant.."

"Ah." His dark head swung back to me and he smiled almost roguishly. "Reading minds again? What can I say? You're pretty inspirational, babe, and the dining table looks like it could hold up under our weight."

"Just dinner. No table sex."

"No problem." Clayton acquiesced easily. "The bed would do fine for me."

"Pervert. And stop thinking in those terms."

The roguish grin on his handsome face widened. "I can't help it. You make me hard."

There seemed to be no decent reply for that since his words drew several uncomfortably arousing images and I maintained my silence instead. His deep, teasing laughter followed me all the way back to the kitchen as I made my hasty retreat. Content to remain on his own, Clayton didn't return to bug me and left me alone in the kitchen for some time, dreaming up devious ways of poisoning him. There was no way in hell I'd stoop myself to his level by playing his inane games but it was endless fun imagining him groaning and writhing in pain on the floor from purgatives.

When I finally returned to the dining room with the final dish, I realized that Clayton had obviously kept himself quite busy rummaging through the cupboards. There was an ancient buffet hutch by the dining table where my mother used to keep what we called her fancy dining stuff and it was obvious that Clayton had managed to find her treasure trove. Fortunately, the monumental disaster that was Hurricane Allen had swept by the living room and the study, demolishing almost everything in its wake but somehow managed to swerve past the dining room. Belgian lace tablecloth lined the massive oak table, lovely Delft porcelain ware lay neatly arranged for a cosy twosome at one end and he'd placed an iron wrought candelabra complete with long, tapering candles in the centre. I certainly couldn't accuse Clayton of not knowing how to set a scene. Obviously Demon Lawyers 'R' Us had classes dealing with table dining etiquette.

It was obvious that he was still looking for something else however and finally perplexed, he turned to me. "Where the hell do you keep your matches?"

"Never had any. Watch and learn." I smiled. A small, simple incantation had the candles around the room flaring up to lend a warm glow to the dining room. If it looked just a bit romantic, I kept that to myself hoping that Clayton wouldn't notice too.

Trying to hide the effect would teach me to underestimate Clayton. As he took his place at the table, there was a secret smile on his face. "The perfect ambience."

"Gotta make a guest feel at home," I ad-libbed quickly, taking my seat beside him. Scooting my chair to the other end of the table seemed like a safer alternative but Clayton would certainly have a choice comment ready for that cowardly act and I remained unhappily glued to my seat.

"Ah, the 2005 Martha Stewart Witch Guide."

I picked up my fork and waved it at him. "No jokes, you promised."

"A truce then." He laughed and then decided to start on his meal by tucking into a piece of lasagna. Nothing like distracting the man by waving food in front of him. Biting into his first piece, Clayton leaned back and let loose a rapturous sigh. "Damn but you're an amazing cook. Sweetheart, I'd marry you for that lasagna alone."

The flattering compliment on the food was welcome enough but not in the sly way he'd said it. Amazing how he actually managed to turn compliments on my cooking back to his single-minded, relentless mission to win me back. Trying to keep my tone as light and breezy as possible, I just shook my head in reply. "You're way too easy then."

There was no flippancy in his voice however when he paused to look me straight in the eye. A gleam came into his beautiful eyes as he gave me a half-crooked smile. "What can I say? I'm always easy when it comes to you, John."

Letting him know that such sudden sentimentality - no doubt mellowed by the food in his growling stomach - was turning my knees to water in seconds and indirectly wearing down my resolve wouldn't be a prudent move on my part. And yet when I gazed into those dark green depths, I felt like casting all my antiquated notions into the wind and fall into his strong, two-timing arms.

"You wanted to know more about me, didn't you? We never did talk about what you saw."

Clayton said it so matter-of-factly while he bit into a chunk of chicken that it took me a moment before I realized what he'd just told me. There was certainly no forgetting what had happened that night but despite my avid curiosity, I didn't want to bring it up before he was ready to tell me anything. Gorgeous amateur sorceror transforming into a hairy, sharp-fanged werewolf right in front of my eyes wasn't something I'd expected of him and the image of the skin and muscle literally tearing apart before my eyes had been etched into my memory for weeks after.

"I know what it was, Clayton, although I can't exactly claim to understand what happened."

Almost cautiously, he slowly laid down his spoon and watched me. A shadow of a smile crossed his handsome face as he started to speak. "Well, actually I believe you're the second person alive who's seen it." There was distinct flash of his green eyes, an almost imperceptible golden tint that I'd seen that night weeks ago.

"I venture to guess my father's the other one."

"Yes." He nodded.

"Was that a veiled threat?"

He looked almost hurt for a moment. "John."

"Okay, I have to admit that was a cheap shot. I take it back."

Pleased that he'd managed to get the better of me, he spooned up some soup and smiled beatifically at me. "You know what the bastards who call themselves my parents called me when I was a kid? They called me El Diable. The little fucking Devil."

"What?" I stared at him. There were times when provoked by one of my admittedly hair-brained ideas, Aunt Hester would start preaching about the Bible and the fate of the wicked, unrepentant sinners but even then she would never have categorized me as the Devil himself. And certainly not when I was a child. "Your parents called you that? Surely they didn't mean it."

"Much as I would love to pander to your all-American Norman Rockwell notion of family, they actually meant it." Clayton chuckled but there was a low, hollow ring to the sound.

The way he said it left me in no doubt of the truth of the matter and yet despite the cold, dispassionate tone he used, I realized that there was some hurt still left. The ugly wound might have been scabbed over but my bringing up the topic must have scraped the wound fresh again. "Clayton, you don't have to tell me anymore."

As I tried to pick up my fork again, he reached over and held my hand, clutching it tight enough to cause some discomfort. Sometimes he obviously still didn't know his own preternatural strength. "John, you wanted to know about me? If that's what it takes, I'm telling you everything."

"Look, Clayton, I don't have to know everything and..."

"Just listen," Clayton begged, watching me intently. As he started reciting the story, he released my hand. "Hell, Clayton isn't even really my name. At least I don't think so. I can't remember anything from my childhood, anything less than 7 years is a blur to me. I remember vague faces and colours but I don't remember who they are. I don't know who my real parents are, don't even know where the hell I came from. The Garcias found me. Why they took me in I'll never know but I once read a note from my real father. More a threat than anything else and obviously they bowed down to his wishes. They fed and clothed me but that didn't mean they loved me. I wasn't an angel, I'd admit it but they didn't help much. The slightest wrong had Raul's large fists flying at me and the alcohol binges made the fists come faster and harder. Maria, his wife wasn't much better, fearful of me and cursing my name to heaven. Made crosses at me each time she saw me, said I was tainted by the devil whatever that meant. It took some time before I got smart enough to keep him from using me as a punching bag and I left."

He told his story matter-of-factly as if he'd read it in a book some years ago. A horribly twisted fairy tale that he barely recalled. Passionless and clinical, and yet I could see the bleakness in the suddenly dimmed green eyes as he spoke. The earlier spark of fire had faded out of his eyes as he told me some of his experiences. There were times when I suspected that he watered down the story a little for my benefit, especially after seeing the growing horror in my face. No, his past still haunted him but he obviously didn't let it overrule his thoughts and actions.

As he came to the end of the story, Clayton released my hand, letting it go and I flexed my fingers to test the joints. It didn't surprise me now that Allen's head had snapped just as easily under those powerful hands. "Sorry for that. It actually took me a while before I got out from them. Who knows, I must have felt some sort of gratitude for the bastards but I just couldn't stand being knocked about anymore one day so I left. Just took the little that I had and ran. Barely in my teens still, a scrawny lil kid even then and didn't even know where the hell I was going. Changed the name my parents had give me, tried to be someone else. Thank God your father found me."

A rich, successful Cabal CEO based in New York just walking by the streets of Miami to find a wandering street kid by luck? Such a providential move certainly warranted suspicion. Knowing my father's foresight and calculated strategies, he'd probably been keeping an eye on the promising Clayton for several months before making his move. Keeping that thought to myself however, I only shook my head with sympathy. "Clayton, I can't imagine what you went through then."

"That's all in the past now." He smiled easier now, a more genuine smile now that he had unburdened himself. "Look, I don't want your pity. I just want you to know where I'm coming from. Perhaps you never wanted to hear this from me before but.."

Even without scanning his thoughts, I sensed he was moments away from declaring himself and I reached up my hand to stop him. "Don't, Clayton."

Quick as a snake, he reached out for my hand and brought it down to the table again, holding it tight in his hand. Although he relaxed his hold a little in deference to my weark, inferior self, it was turning out to be a habit. "Stopping me from saying it doesn't make it any less true. I'm telling you all this because I'm in love with you."

"You've known me barely two months or so," I said calmly even though my treacherous heart had given a quick leap at the meaningful words. Since he was the more volatile of the both of us - and there were already early signs of his temper appearing on the scene, it was left to me to keep a rational mind. Sure, kissing him would certainly soothe the wild beast and contain the problem but I didn't plan to start such a disturbing trend in our twisted relationship. Unless I had no choice of course. It seemed to be ironic that I'd spent years looking for that special someone and now that I had found a spectacularly gorgeous stud who loved me, I could only resort to kissing him as a last resort. As he showed no signs of blowing up yet, there didn't seem to be any need to do so.

"And half the time, I was trying to escape from vengeful werewolves in search of a main course and oily mafioso bothers who want me to join the dark side." Speaking of such incidences as if it was commonplace would be ludicrous just six months back and I realized how far my life had changed. Back then, I didn't have sexy sorcerers who turned into raging wild beasts once a week over for dinner no matter how luscious they might look in tight jeans. "And you were the perfect combination of both."

"Ouch." Lifting his hand in a quick salute to my jab, Clayton smiled ruefully. The vivid green was back in his eyes, gleaming and so green a shade to seem almost inhuman, as he'd shed his vulnerable, confiding side as easily as he'd left his humanity behind when he'd changed. "No, I'm not denying that less than two months is hardly time enough to make a lifetime commitment but well, I don't know how it is but I knew you were the one the moment I saw you walk out of the door."

"It was the adrenaline and the heat of the moment..." My heart stuttered from what he'd said and I found my tongue finally giving up. How the hell do you deal with such simple sincerity. He could have prettied it up with sweet words and poetry - I'd certainly seen him in action with that treacherous silver tongue at work - but he didn't try all those practised moves on me. I started to stand but he caught my hand in his. I would have known better than to have tried breaking free. With that strength, it would be a cinch for him to snap my wrist with just a squeeze.

"You can explain it all away but it doesn't change what I feel. Belittling my feelings for you hurts. It hurts, John."

Who knew those unnaturally green eyes could hold so much grief. Legend had it that wolves mated for life and I felt my heart stop for a moment. "Clayton."

"John, why are you fighting this?"

"It hurts even more that you're using all your charm to persuade me to stay so that you'll get a leg up in the Cabal." I'd never been at my best caught in a corner. It came sputtering out before I could stop myself. Many times before, I'd come close to revealing what I'd seen and heard and yet in respect and appreciation for what he'd done for me, I'd kept it silent till now.

"What th-" It was as if I'd turned and slapped him hard as he recoiled from my accusation. "That's what you think of me? You think I'm a fucking toad-eating asshole who'd stoop to such low tactics? I can do better than fucking the boss' son." The apparent grief melted away as his green eyes flashed an early warning.

Since I'd already gotten this far, I didn't see any reason to keep what I knew a secret. "Look, I saw you in the living room talking to my father. You don't have to carry on this charade any longer than you have to, my father thinks the world of you and..."

To prove his point, he practically leapt over the table as he loomed threateningly over me. Any other witch would have cowered under that stare but the foolhardy witch that I am, I retained my position, refusing to budge an inch. "I knew that, heard you coming in from a mile away. Such a clever little eavesdropper! Perhaps you should have stayed longer to hear the rest of it. Or perhaps you'd rather read my mind and find out for yourself." The hell-raising fury he was famous for was evident now, rising in palpable waves from his body. "What's wrong with wanting you to stay with the Cabal? I wanted you close to me and that's one of the few ways I could see to keep you near. The other was tying you up and tossing you into my car but that wouldn't have gone down so well with your father. You certainly wouldn't have stayed for me, you were so damned insistent on returning to Black Falls and your damned so-called life."

"I don't want.."

Clayton didn't allow me a chance to explain myself but cut me off with a rude grunt. "I'm not finished, John. You might have heard me promising your dad to find a way. What the hell's wrong with that? Your father saved me when I was lost. I'd do anything for him and having you back in the family was one of the few things he'd wanted for so long. Was it wrong for me to get that for him?"

I stared at him. His seething anger drew a spark of my own and I started getting angry in spite of my self.

"Answer me, John. Look at me. Why should I bother lying to you? Sure I had other motives for wanting you to stay but that doesn't mean I love you any less."

Finally it was time to show my trump card and goaded by his belligerence, I decided to confront him with it. "Clayton, look, I saw the picture of the boy in your office. Don't even try to deny that he's your son."

"I won't deny that."

And he didn't need to. When I'd looked into the photo, I knew I'd seen love. The little boy's face was unmistakeable, the perfect miniature of his father who held him close. Those wicked green eyes, the rough shag of glossy black curls, the impish smile.

He remained quiet for a moment and I stood up, slowly gathering the plates in silence.

As I came back from the kitchen with the tableloth, he was still sitting there watching the table in silent, rapt contemplation. Turning to go, he caught my hand and urged me to sit. "John, you've got it all wrong. Take a seat, please."

Anger would have raised my hackles but I was certainly no proof to the entreating look on his face. "Tell me."

"I was going to explain it to you earlier but... hell, how do I say this but yes, he is my son. Let me give you the short summary on this. I was married before. It was years ago, I'd tried... hell, I know I love men now but back then, I'd hoped that all those dirty thoughts and ideas would fade away if I just got married." Clayton laughed quietly, shaking his head in remembrance. "Had all these hot guys doing all sorts of dirty things in my head. Almost went crazy thinking that the Garcias were right and I was tainted by the Devil. Your father would have helped me then but I had to get away, be by myself for a while. In that time, I met a woman. Just a slip of a girl actually, her name was Luisa. We were happy together, she loved me... gave me a son. It didn't last for long since she died from... an accident two years after we'd met."

An accident? There was something more that he wasn't saying about his wife but I figured that he would tell me in time so I kept quiet. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"John. Before you came into my life, I'd already sworn that I'd try to keep you by your father's side, by force if you will but once I saw you, everything changed." He looked straight at me, almost daring me to look away. "They say wolves mate for life, John. I really tried my best to love Luisa, she was lovely and sweet and yet, I couldn't return her love in kind. I thought it was a flaw in me, a fucking deficiency planted by my upbringing. But when I saw you, I knew then why I couldn't love Luisa. I was waiting for you, my mate and she wasn't the one. I swear I wanted to tell you all this before but then you left in such a hurry."

Once he'd explained it all, it all made perfect sense and tied up all the loose ends about Clayton that I'd wondered about.A red flush of shame burned my cheeks as I wondered what had made me leap to those terrible conclusions in the beginning. There was still the werewolf mystery that bugged me but since it was still obviously a source of pain for him, I decided not to dredge it up yet. The combination of werewolf genes and sorcerous powers were unique, and he was certainly the first such supernatural I'd seen. Some secrets however were best left buried. "I'd made my own conclusions about you by then, Clayton, not all of them good. And I found myself still liking you despite all the evidence in front of me."

"Irresistible, eh." He couldn't hide the grin of satisfaction on his face.

"Conceited jerk." I chuckled. "It wasn't exactly running away. I just wanted some space, wanted to get some distance between us to think."

"I honestly wanted to tell you about Sam, my son, but I found that I couldn't. To just dump you with all the information about my life when we'd just met seemed a little too much. And you've got to admit that we didn't exactly have the time to hash things out."

I replied almost flippantly. "Well, a crazed werewolf was after me. Not exactly the time for tea and chit-chat."

"And we know how you witches love the herbal tea."

"Hey, don't knock it."

"And now? Where do we stand?" Clayton said softly.

It was a loaded question indeed. After what he'd just revealed, the insane, insensible urge to leap impulsively into his strong arms was there, stronger than ever, but so was the cautious witch side of myself that remained irrationally wary of him. "We'll see how it goes. Let's just say your chances are very good." Deciding to give my conscience a rest for the day, I took his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. Evidently, it was more than enough and he flashed a warm, grateful smile in return. "What if I still wanted to stay here in Black Falls?"

That was even better than he'd expected and he grinned with satisfaction. "Well, take a look here." Getting out of the chair to rummage in his bags in the living room, he searched for a minute or two as I watched him. Damn, he was one extremely fine looking man, all hard muscle and testosterone, masculine curves and planes that was showcased perfectly by the simple jeans and shirt that he wore.

Thoroughly aware of the greedy looks he was getting, Clayton glanced over with a devilish smile and winked his green eye at me. "Hot stuff!" As I maintained my dignified silence, he let out a low chuckle and continued his search. Returning to me with an envelope in hand, he handed it to me, urging me to open it.

"This can't be another join the Mafia newsletter?" When he shook his dark head, his eyes dancing with wicked mischief, I finally relented and opened the envelope. It was the deed to the land behind my homestead. Slowly placing the documents down on the table, I lifted up my gaze to meet his. "You bought all this land?"

His explanation was simple enough and he shrugged as he gave me an answer. "Sweetheart, a wolf needs a place to run. Can't very well run in circles around your small house. That would make me look like a damned fool."

Clayton James shifting to Black Falls was akin to Carrie Bradshaw moving to the deepest interiors of Utah to take up knitting. Almost incredulous, I stared at him wondering whether it was one of his hoaxes. "You're moving to Black Falls? You're not serious?"

"You're not the only stubborn bastard here. It took me damn near three days to acquire the land deeds but yeah, if that's what you want. Staying out here would be good for me. Beats the hell out of driving out of the city to change. Doesn't mean I like it - and I'll still try to talk you into staying in New York."

"Clayton James ruralizing? Repairing fences and sheds? Driving a pickup truck to the neighbourhood store and the weekly crafts fairs?" It was difficult to imagine. Slick city kid spending a simple life in Black Falls?

He winced. "Please. Don't remind me."

I laughed, gave in to my earlier impulse and kissed him.