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Baxter Hawthorne wasthe black sheep of the bohemian Hawthorne family. From an early age, when he’d been offered crayons or paint brushes or even clay by his eccentric father or his free-spirited Uncle Robert and Aunt Janice, he’d chosen to play with a calculator instead. Where most of his brothers and sisters and cousins excelled in art classes and afterschool craft clubs, Bax had scored top marks in Maths and had organized his form’s debate club. As soon as he’d graduated, he’d taken an entry-level job with a prestigious London accountancy firm, much to the disgust of his twin brother, Blaine, and the rest of the creative Hawthorne brood.

What Bax lacked in artistic endeavor, he made up for in his devout religious practices. Of course, his faith of choice wasn’t Anglicanism or Catholicism, or any of the traditional organized religions. Hewasa Hawthorne, after all, so naturally the faith that had encompassed so much of his life and his outlook on the world was Paganism.

He’d been a member of a coven since he was eighteen and had developed a love for that unique sort of spiritual community that had carried him through some rough times in the past. Hisbeloved cousin Raina’s death over a year and a half ago, for example.

Covens could be far more intense than an ordinary religious congregation that sat placidly in an old stone church every Sunday, listening to a grey-haired vicar drone on about purity and obedience. Most sorts of Paganism that Bax had flirted with tended to be far freer with humankind’s baser instincts, and sometimes those natural desires found their way into relationships between coven members.

That was how Bax had ended up dating coven-leader Damien for three years. It was part of the reason they’d had such an exciting, adventurous, and occasionally volatile relationship. And it was definitely the reason why, a few days after New Year’s, Bax found himself carrying boxes of his belongings in through the family entrance of Hawthorne House and up to one of the family flats on the first floor.

“Think of it this way,” Blaine said as he fumbled a box packed with a few of Baxter’s more breakable possessions. “You’ve ended one relationship, but now you have time and mental space to forge all sorts of new relationships with our cousins.”

“Blaine, so help me, if you break the scrying glass in that box, I will curse you into next Sunday,” Bax replied, trying to keep his face straight as his heart overflowed with affection for his slightly mad twin.

Without so much as a hint of remorse, Blaine peeked into the open-topped box he carried up the stairs. “Is that the black thing at the bottom? Under the crystal ball?”

“Obsidian,” Bax said, hefting his duffle higher on his shoulder and shuffling the box of books in his arms.

Blaine paused, staring warily at Bax. “You wouldn’t really curse me, would you? I never know if you’re joking or not when you threaten me with witchcraft.”

Bax fought to keep his expression grim and spooky instead of laughing. “Then you’d better not annoy me.”

The twins stared at each other for a moment before Blaine got the joke and laughed. He shook his head and they walked on with Blaine saying, “I can’t believe you have a crystal ball. What are you, some sort of circus fortune-teller?”

Bax smirked as they reached the door to the flat Uncle Robert had graciously loaned him for the duration of his stay in the family’s bosom. Not only was he in desperate need of someplace to call home after he and Damien had broken up, Uncle Robert had hired him to audit the books for the Hawthorne Community Arts Center, since there had been so many changes in the way the family did business in the last year.

If Baxter’s entire life had to be in turmoil, then at least he could tuck himself away with his family to lick his wound and figure out how to move on.

“Yes,” he said with a slight smirk, entering the flat and setting the box of books down on the sofa, then carrying the duffle into the bedroom. “I routinely tell fortunes while swathed in colorful scarves and burning incense at carnivals and parties.”

Blaine jerked straight as he put his box down on the coffee table, then blinked at Bax as he came out of the bedroom. “No, you don’t,” he said. “I can’t imagine you going anywhere near a carnival. You’re far too fussy and important for that.”

Bax laughed and slapped his brother on the shoulder as they headed out to get the last load of boxes from his car. He and Blaine were identical, but only on the surface. They had the same short, slender build, the same soulful, hazel eyes and soft brown hair, but Blaine’s hair was always untidy and he dressed like a rainbow had thrown up on him. Bax preferred sartorial elegance, never had a hair out of place, and walked with a straitlaced grace that would have had him called a dandy in earlier generations.

“The crystal ball was a gift from Damien last Christmas,” he explained as they headed down the stairs again for the last load, his heart sinking with the words. “It’s just for show.”

Blaine sniffed. “So was Damien.”

Bax couldn’t really argue with him. Damien was classically gorgeous and radiated power. He and Bax had met while part of the original coven Bax had belonged to, but following had never been Damien’s forte. He’d broken off from that coven, taking Bax and a few others with him, and quickly gathered a new group around his magnetic leadership.

That undisputedly dominant energy was the reason why Bax had needed to leave the coven when things fell apart between him and Damien. He hadn’t just lost a boyfriend, he’d lost an entire spiritual community and his soul’s center with it.

“Never mind,” Blaine said as they stepped out into the frosty, frigid January morning again. “There are plenty of other weird fish in the sea. I’m certain you’ll be casting spells and engaging in sexy fertility rituals with someone much better than Damien in no time.”

“Paganism isn’t like that,” Bax said, rolling his eyes at his brother, as they reached the car.

It was like that sometimes, but telling Blaine would only open a can of worms Bax definitely wasn’t ready for.

They were halfway through taking the last of Bax’s things out of the car when a dark blue SUV pulled into the family parking lot. Blaine immediately dropped everything, including the backpack filled with candles and herbs he’d almost but not quite slung over his shoulder.

“Ooh! Alfie’s here!” he exclaimed, dashing toward the SUV just as a tall, muscular man with a military haircut stepped out.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Alfie greeted Blaine, opening his arms as soon as he’d shut his car’s door.

Blaine did a flying leap into his soldier’s embrace, wrapped his arms and legs around Alfie like some sort of horny octopus, and kissed him thoroughly. The display went on for longer than it should have, which was typical Blaine.

Bax grinned, shook his head, and picked up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Blaine had just recently started dating Alfie, but it was clear the two of them were meant for each other. They were complete opposites that fit together perfectly. Alfie had just finished a long stint with the RAF and was now beginning the rest of his life. He was adamant that he wanted Blaine to be part of it, and if everything Blaine had told Bax in the last week was accurate, Alfie had a potential job offer to be a houseparent for a local orphanage.

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