Page 6 of Entranced By the Basilisks

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JASPER

I enterthe room that Ari reserved for our meeting at the Love Bathhouse. I should have negotiated us meeting somewhere else, anywhere else. The bathhouse is a place that paranormals meet up for sex. The business is a sound one, gathering the magic produced from sexual acts for reselling. We’ve come here many times over the years.

Ari likes the luxury.

The Love family does not skimp in that category. The steam coming off the heated pool strikes a craving to soak in the spelled waters and let my mind finally stop turning, but the portion of the room padded with piles of pillows inspires an inescapable heat in my lower belly. All the private rooms differ in theme and decor. The tiles in this one are blue gray with interspersed shiny silver veins arranged in curly wave designs.

I idly wonder if Ari requested this room to match his eyes. I discard the thought. Evenheisn’t that vain… right?

I reassess that thought when he approaches me, resplendent in a silk robe that glints gold. He holds his arms out wide.

“Jasper!” Ari’s voice is deep, with a music to it that coaxes.

The resistance at my core starts to soften. He’s one of the few people that call me by my first name. The intimacy isn’t lost on me and the heat in my belly spreads, my body priming itself for how these visits usually go.

“Ari,” I say, trying to keep my tone from sounding breathless.

“I’m glad you came.” Ari’s smile is a touch smug. He deserves his smugness and confidence no matter how grating it is. He isn’t rejected very often… especially by me.

He is beautiful. His strong nose and thick brows regally recount his Persian ancestry, his light-brown skin and contrasting gray eyes are more than merely alluring, and whatever he wears is always the highest quality of fabrics tailored to his exact specifications.

If it were only his appearance, he and the complicated mess of emotions he inspires would be easier to ignore.

But it’s the grace with which he moves and his confidence that make my mouth water.

That doesn’t even cover the impact of his gaze. Eye contact with Ari Zeyad is arresting, hypnotizing, powerful.

Though we are the same kind of creature, Ari can control how people react to his gaze. It requires a thin amount of magic to comfort those around him. Magic I’m not capable of holding. It’s easier for his business if the people he’s working with aren’t on edge and flinching.

He doesn’t shield his gaze now, though. It doesn’t have the same effect on me. The dominance that gleams in his eyes and the sear of his attention has my cock hardening at an embarrassing speed.

What does he even want with me?

He could have anyone he wished to and yet he’s here.

Whenever I ask the question, he turns it salacious. When I persist, he completes the seduction, using his strength against me to sensually take everything I need to give him, things that I withhold on principle.

Our connection is only casual, but for some reason he’s who I spend the holidays with—not to celebrate with of course, unless that celebration is spent lust soaked and gasping. It’s him who I’ve shared the most meals with, our conversations lasting until the late hours.

Ari’s presence has curled around so many memories that it’s hard to imagine my life before him. It’s why it’s so difficult to resist him even when I should let him go.

“Come and sit with me,” Ari says. He gestures to a tray between a couple of pillows that holds a pitcher of something and an assortment of cheese, fruit, and dry meat. I blink. This is not how I foresaw this going.

“You brought a charcuterie board?”

Ari shrugs. “I figured you may need a bite to eat after a long day. You’re not the best person at stopping for lunch.”

I tense at that. Foreboding at Ari’s intentions has me preparing to make an excuse and leave. Our arrangement doesn’t involve Ari making sure I eat enough. That would trespass into different territory, dangerous territory.

“And I definitely deserve a snack after the day I’ve had,” he says loftily.

I relax for a breath before sighing and positioning myself on the padding on the other side of the tray. My posture is stiff in comparison to the way his body drapes across from me.

“So how was your day?” Ari asks.

The domesticity of the question makes me frown, but I shrug. “It was fine. The library has kept me busy. You said you had a book for the Archive.”

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