Page 7 of Heart of Glass

Xeno ignored him. “Should I go see him?” He popped out of his seat like a jack-in-the-box and started pacing again. “I should go see him. Do you think that would freak him out? I don’t think it would. I should probably take something, though, don’t you think? Yeah, I’ll stop and get his favorite coffee.”

“You don’t even need me for this conversation, do you?” Grady muted the football game he’d switched on and tilted his head back to look up at Xeno. “He’s not like you and me. This isn’t going to work out, and you know it.”

“Why not? Why do I have to tell him what I am—whatweare—to spend time with him?”

Xeno knew the rules, and he knew the risks. An ancient, immortal breed of werewolves, Lykós had the ability to walk between realms, specifically the waking world and the dream world. While their physical transformation wasn’t as impressive as their cousins’, their ability to prophesize the future through dreams could be more dangerous than any sharp claws or glistening fangs. Scarier still, they didn’t even know they were foreseeing the future until the events came to pass.

“Let me count the ways,” Grady answered, though the question had clearly been rhetorical. Well, it had been clear to Xeno anyway. “First, what’s going to happen in five years when we have to move again? Do you think he’s going to wait around for a hundred years for us to come back? Are you going to take him with us? And then what? How are you going to explain why you’re not aging?”

“I could—”

“Number two.” Grady had a full head of steam now, and he plowed right over Xeno’s attempted argument. “I might have already mentioned this, but you know the rules. Telling him what we are doesn’t just risk our safety, it puts him in danger as well.”

“I know what I’m doing.” For his entire life—all six hundred years of it—he’d sat on the sidelines and never participated. He’d paid enough for his ancestors’ crimes, and he didn’t feel too selfish for wanting just a moment of happiness for himself.

“Do you?” Grady questioned. “I hope to hell you do, because if not, you’re going to get us all killed.”

“No one is going to get hurt.” They’d been best friends for decades, and Xeno had hoped the guy would show a little more faith in him.

“You better be right.” Snatching his empty beer bottle, Grady shoved himself up from the sofa and stomped toward the kitchen. “Lachlan is a good guy, and he’s been through hell. Don’t drag him into your drama just because you have some schoolboy crush.”

“You really should think about getting laid. Maybe it would help dislodge that enormous stick crammed up your ass.”

Grady paused at the kitchen entryway and spun around with his arms folded over his chest. “You know what your problem is?”

“Yeah,” Xeno growled. “You.” Then he turned his back on his best friend and went to prepare for his second date with Lachlan.

“Xeno! What are you doing here on your day off?”

“Hey, Myah.” Xeno flashed his most charming smile. “Can I get two of those coffees Lachlan likes, a box of cinnamon buns, and a loaf of banana bread?”

“Sure.” Myah pressed her lips together, though her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Will that be for here or to-go?”

“Ha ha, really funny.”

“Hey, it’s a legitimate question.” She glanced toward her left and giggled. “Lachlan’s been here for over an hour. I think he’s waiting on something…or someone.”

Xeno jerked his head around so fast it caused a sharp pain in the side of his neck. Reaching up to rub the offending muscle, he squinted into the dark corner where Lachlan usually sat, more pleased than he could express to find the object of his desire staring back at him.

“We won’t be staying. I’ll pick up the order on the way out.” Then he rapped his knuckles against the counter, offered a quickthank you, and wound his way to the back of the room. “Hello, stranger.”

“Hello.” Lachlan spoke quietly, and he wouldn’t look up from the contemplation of his knees. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you here.”

“Is that so?” Xeno didn’t bother to sit. They wouldn’t be staying for long—he hoped. “I think you were wanting to see me here, though. Am I right?”

Resting his hands on his waist, he popped one hip out to the side and smirked. Xeno didn’t feel nearly as confident as he portrayed, but he’d learned a few things about human nature in his many years. Lost souls were always looking for someone to lead them home.

“Yes,” Lachlan confessed. “Myah said you weren’t working today, but I decided to stay anyway. I guess I didn’t feel like being alone.”

Crouching down beside Lachlan’s chair, Xeno lowered his voice and softened his tone. “I missed you, handsome.” He placed his hand on top of Lachlan’s where it rested on the squashy arm of the chair and squeezed. “It’s going to be dark soon. Let me walk you home.”

Lachlan sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed on it until the flesh turned red and puffy. “Okay. Yeah.” He finally released his lip, and his worried expression morphed into a tentative smile. “I’d like that.”

Straightening to his full height, Xeno grabbed Lachlan’s cane from behind the chair and glanced around for the man’s ratty messenger bag. “No laptop today?”

“I didn’t feel like writing.” Letting Xeno help him to his feet, Lachlan zipped his hooded jacket and took his cane. “Ready?”

His baggy jeans did nothing for his lean figure, and the maroon-colored jacket swallowed him, hanging loosely off of his narrow shoulders. Grady’s words about Lachlan’s eating habits played through Xeno’s mind, forcing him to take a more critical look at the author.

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