Page 6 of Forged

Nick nodded, but kept his eyes glued to his work. Maybe that was why he’d never been particularly interested in going out with girls along with the rest of his art school classmates. He enjoyed everyone’s company as they laughed and swapped stories at pubs or clubs, but when it came to pairing off for the night or even taking someone home, he’d always been disappointed. And disappointing.

“Granted,” Bax went on, holding up one hand, “a lot of the hype about pagans having ritual sex on pentagram altars and orgies to celebrate whatever holiday people think it is that requires orgies is greatly exaggerated.”

“You’ve never had an orgy?” Nick asked, peeking up.

“I didn’t say that,” Bax answered with a sly wink.

Nick heated even more. He was certain Bax was just teasing him again.

At least, hethoughtBax was just teasing him.

Fuck. What if Bax wasn’t just teasing? What if he actuallyhadparticipated in an orgy before? Had he been the one having sex with multiple women—no, wait, Bax was gay—with multiple men? Had he been the top or the bottom?

Nick doused those thoughts as soon as Bax laughed.

“That got your imagination going,” Bax said, grinning widely.

“I didn’t think I had that much of an imagination,” Nick said what plenty of other people would have said to him after a comment like that.

Bax sat a bit straighter, his eyes widening. “Of course you have an imagination,” he said, then nodded to the unicorn body. “You’re an amazing artist.”

“Hardly,” Nick said, finishing with the piece of mane in front of him, then setting the blowtorch aside so he could refine it. “I’m a great, hulking oaf who likes to bang things is all.”

“Just my type, then,” Bax said, his expressive mouth pulling into a wicked smirk.

A shiver of embarrassment shot through Nick, nearly buckling his knees. At least, he thought it was embarrassment. There was something about Baxter that radiated sexuality so strongly that it affected even him.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, keeping his face half turned away so Bax wouldn’t see how flustered he was.

“I know, I know,” Bax continued to laugh, holding up his hands as if in a sign of peace. “I shouldn’t joke about these things.”

“I don’t always get jokes,” Nick admitted.

“Practice makes perfect,” Bax said. He looked so happy and at ease sitting there, saying inappropriate things without a care. “And for the record, it doesn’t matter what you look like or how you present yourself, you create things of amazing beauty. You’re an artist. And you’re apparently a fabulous forgery teacher as well.”

“Forging,” Nick corrected him. “Forgery is making fake things.”

“And nothing you’ve made is fake,” Bax finished his thought easily. He paused for a moment, studying Nick with an uncomfortably intense gaze before going on to say, “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not an artist. I know artists. I’m one of the few Hawthornes who isn’t an artist, but I know them when I see them. You’ve got talent.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, managing a smile. “I love metalwork, but I haven’t been able to do as much as I’d like lately.”

“Why’s that?” Bax asked.

Nick shrugged as he prepared to work with the third piece of mane. “Because I love my children more. If I had to choose, and sometimes it feels like I have to, I’d choose to be the best father I can be.”

“That’s admirable and sweet,” Bax said, tilting his head a little to one side as he smiled at Nick. “I don’t see myself having kids ever, but I absolutely appreciate the desire to be a good father.”

“Don’t pagans have kids?” Nick asked, then immediately felt it was a stupid question.

“A lot of them do,” Bax said. “A few in my old coven had kids.”

“Your old coven?” Nick asked.

He was asking about the term “coven”, but Bax took the question a different way. “I had to leave when I broke up with Damien,” he explained, looking sad. “Damien was the high priest, and after we split, it was just too uncomfortable to stay.”

Nick gave Bax more than a cursory glance. He really did look sad about losing his group of people. Nick had no idea what it meant or if it was an ordinary thing or a significant thing for someone who practiced that faith, but he immediately wished he could do something about it.

“How do you find a new coven?” he asked.

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