Page 15 of Elixir of Strife
I laughed hoarsely, steadied myself with one hand agains his hip. By some bizarre miracle, we’d both missed hitting anything else in the kitchen. Impressive Fantastic aim all around.
He rubbed at his face, satisfied, embarrassed, stifling his laughter. “Max. Oh, God. Did I just come on your — oh, no.”
I bit my lower lip, wiping my hand off on his stomach, savoring the rock-hardness of his perfect abs. “Oh, so now you’re afraid of a little protein? You’re going to be really pissed when I tell you my secret ingredient for overnight oats.”
Leon laughed fully from his throat, aghast and innocent. “Max!”
I waggled my eyebrows. “Makes it extra creamy.”
“You’re disgusting,” he said, making a face.
“But you love it,” I said, pressing our torsos and cocks together, leaning in for a kiss. All his pretense melted away as he kissed me back, smiling against my mouth.
“I do,” he said, without words, with every sweep of his tongue, every glide of his perfect lips. I genuinely thought I wanted a cocktail. Should have realized I actually wanted a serving of something sweet and pretty and warm.
And I wanted seconds, too.
7
LEON
My caramel macchiato went down smooth and sweet, as perfect as every time Mr. Johnny Slivers prepared one for me. Didn’t matter if it was coffee or cocktails. Johnny just nailed it.
Speaking of nails, Max had once told me that that was Johnny’s actual supernatural talent, an inherent ability to conjure tiny lengths of metal. Needles, in his case, which explained the tattoos and the finely tailored clothing. Personally I was convinced that Johnny’s real gift was the mixing of supernaturally delicious beverages.
“Ease up on that, Witch Boy,” Johnny said, pulling up a chair at our regular table at Unholy Grounds. “The morning’s barely over and you’re already on your second one.”
I slammed my paper cup of coffee on the table dramatically, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough, barkeep.”
Johnny chuckled. “Very cute. No skin off my back, it’s Max who has to worry about dealing with you all buzzed on caffeine and sugar. Where is he, anyway?”
I nodded at the sidewalk, where Max was speaking to the Succulence people on his phone. He strutted up and down the pavement looking all important and cool in his leather jacket and aviator sunglasses. I’d seen the man wear practically the same thing every day since I’d met him. How did he keep it so tight and sexy every time?
Johnny grimaced. “You boys have every right to be pissed. I hope your clients aren’t leading you wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time a client fucked up in a way that would put their finders in danger.”
A stack of books smashed onto the table, dropped there by a slightly winded Roscoe Stone. “There. It was rough as hell, but I dug up everything I could find about the Aqueous Elixir. It’s not much, but it should help.”
“Wow,” I breathed, leaning closer. “Where do you even get these, Ross? That’s amazing.”
“Small collection I keep at home,” he said proudly, nudging his glasses up his nose, this adorable nerd.
I ran my fingers along the spines of the books, some written in glyphs and languages I’d never seen before. He swatted my hand away. I drew it back like I was burned, looking up at him reproachfully.
“Sorry,” he explained, pointing out two of the books. “That one bites. And that one can suck you into the pages, depending on its mood.”
The legs of my chair scraped against the floor as I backed all the way up.
“You see what I have to put up with?” Johnny clucked his tongue. “I’m relaxing at home, pick the wrong book to read, and I could get trapped in some alternate dimension full of tentacles and razor blades.”
Ross took his seat at the table, but not before planting a kiss on Johnny’s cheek. “Sweetie, you know you have nothing to worry about. You don’t read.” He turned to me, smirking. “I’m not sure he even can.”
Johnny scowled. “You see what I have to put up with?”
“Okay,” Max said, pulling off his sunglasses as he strode toward us. “The good news is, Dan D. Lyon isn’t trying to screw us. Not that he knows of. Last he heard, that was the correct warehouse, and the Aqueous Elixir was supposed to be in it. The bad news? All of the above. It’s probably still in there.”
I thumped a hand on the table. “How do we know that? Isn’t that stuff supposed to be volatile? We would have known if the bottle broke and let out the elixir.”
“See, that’s the problem.” Ross pulled out one of his books, opening it to a page with a very realistic drawing of an elaborate glass phial. “The turbulent nature of the essence means that the bottle itself must be extremely sturdy. Whatever caused all those detonations at the warehouse? It must not have affected the elixir.”
