Page 2 of The Aether

“Why not go, Dethridge? It might be fun.”

Damian snorted. “If you believe that, your idea of fun vastly differs from mine.”

He peered into Alastair’s mind, only to be mentally smacked away. Laughing, he nodded his head.

“Well done, Al. Not many can keep me out.”

“You were the one who showed me the surefire way to repel you.” The considering expression in Alastair’s narrowed sapphire eyes wasn’t surprising. The man didn’t miss a trick. “Clearly, you did it for a reason.”

“I needed a challenge.”

“Life must be awfully boring for you if reading my tedious thoughts is challenging.”

“Yours are more interesting than most.”

Alastair nodded and raised the bet. “Still, a certain young lady will be in attendance,” he stated casually as Damian called and raised the stakes higher.

“I’m too old for her, and we both know it.”

“You’re too old for anyone.” Alastair barked a laugh. “But look at you. You’re a woman’s wet dream, my friend.”

“That doesn’t matter in the least.”

Irritation prickled, and Damian quickly shut down the emotion, knowing if it got out of hand, others—namely Alastair—would feel the sting. He’d won the genetics lottery and abhorred the fact that he was, for lack of a better description, drop-dead gorgeous. Seduction had been his mother’s game after the Darkness consumed her. As an Enchantress, she’d leveraged her looks and sexuality to steal magic from the unsuspecting. Long ago, Damian had sworn he’d never resort to luring others with his natural-born gifts.

“What really has you out of sorts, Damian?”

He looked up to see Alastair’s concerned gaze focused on him. With a toss of his cards, he folded the game and shrugged. “I don’t know, Al. Maybe it’s because no one should exist as long as I have. See what I’ve seen. Have the power to restore or remove magic from another at will. The power to annihilate a soul for all eternity.”

“It sounds pretty good to me.”

Tugging up his slacks, Alastair crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat, scotch in hand.

Damian half expected to see a naughty saying on his crew socks like Nathanial was so fond of wearing. Alastair, however, would never dilute his impeccable fashion sense with novelty items.

“That’s because you are a fraction of my age,” Damian replied dryly. “Give it another hundred and twenty-plus years, then we’ll circle back to this discussion.”

“I feel as if my life is one long sentence as it is,” Alastair said in a suddenly somber voice.

“No change in Rorie’s condition, then?”

“None.”

Aurora Fennell-Thorne, the love of Alastair’s life, had been in stasis for several years with no hope of waking.

“I can attempt to bring her back, Al. Say the word.”

“And turn you into an enemy of the Authority for breaking their protocol?” Alastair’s mouth tightened as he shook his head. “No, Damian. I’ll find another way. She still has time.”

“Al—”

“It’ll be a death sentence for you. They’ll send the Death Dealers.”

“So what? Let them. Even if theydidmanage to defeat me, which we know is doubtful, I have nothing to live for but this pile of rocks and that blasted garden containing my mother’s tomb.”

A wicked grin transformed his friend from morose to mischievous. “And perhaps Vivian Stephens?”

Pausing in the middle of lifting his tumbler, Damian narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger in his direction. “Get that thought out of your head, or I’ll pluck it out for good.”

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