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Warm sun came through the window and warmed Grey’s face. He ran his hand down the smooth, leather seat, his fingers coming in contact with Cort’s thigh. He imagined the man’s eyes on him as he moved his hand away. He didn’t want to—wanted to grip that thigh and feel the strong muscles. Wanted to reassure them both that they were still alive. Instead, he closed his hand into a fist and put it into his lap. Cort smelled so fucking good next to him, that faint musky cologne or aftershave teasing his senses.

He was completely attracted to a man he’d never seen, and it tripped him up. He wondered if Cort felt any attraction to him.

The tires crunched on gravel, and he knew they’d hit the rough road that led to the house. Grey looked Cort’s way, wishing he could get inside his head.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” Calder said.

Cort stayed quiet the whole time they parked and got out, then grabbed Grey’s arm and led him to the stairs to his apartment. “We have to talk.”

Grey felt like he was being led to jail as he walked up the stairs. Cort never let him go, and Grey opened the door and waited for Cort to go through. But Cort held on to him and they squeezed through the doorway together.

“I’m not gonna run,” Grey muttered.

“I wouldn’t put it past you right now. Just to get out of this conversation we’re about to have. Hell, I don’t know what I think.” Cort finally released him and his footsteps scraped the floor as he walked into the living room. “Come sit. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Grey walked to the window and opened it to let in a much-needed breeze. He moved to the couch and sat, his nerves pricking at his skin. He ran his fingers over the rough surface of the cushion, then clasped his hands in his lap. He forced himself to relax. This was his damn reality, and now it had become Cort’s. He felt like shit about it, but the man had seen everything and deserved an explanation.

Cort took a deep, loud breath. “I don’t even know where to begin. What the ever-loving fuck, Grey?”

“I take it you saw some things you can’t explain…”

“I saw Lucien’s hands on fire, how he threw those flames, and that you guys are killing men. And that’s not all I saw. I saw the sand suck a man into it!”

Oh boy, he’d seen a lot. Grey ran his hands down his pants to get rid of the sweat. “First of all, they aren’t men. They’re creatures from another dimension.”

Cort made a sort of strangled noise. “Huh?”

“I know how it sounds, but it’s true. My brothers and I are something called Weavers and we have magic to help stop the creatures—we call them pestilents—from destroying our world.”

The couch squeaked as Cort shifted and stood up. “Magic? Are you kidding me with this? How am I supposed to believe that?”

“You saw fire come out of Lucien’s hands. How would you explain it?”

Cort’s footsteps pounded the floor as he paced. “This is crazy. But I don’t know what else to think because what I saw was definitely some kind of magic. But just saying that even sounds nuts.”

Grey listened to him pace, his heart in his throat. He would be reacting the same way if he’d come into this situation like Cort had. Everything coming out of his mouth sounded fantastical—even to him—and he was used to all this. He had to get Cort to believe him. Hell, the man could just call the fucking police, or he could leave, and Grey wanted him around.

Cort’s sudden laugh held a note of hysteria. “Guess that explains the moving vines and sucking sand that swallowed the one guy whole.”

“It wasn’t a guy, I promise. We don’t kill humans, only pestilents.” He thought about the people who were enthralled by the pestilents and hoped they wouldn’t ever have to kill them. And he would have liked to have seen that sand-sucking thing. Clay’s powers were always so fun to watch.

Cort’s footsteps stopped. “So, you have what? Superpowers?”

Grey nodded. “I’m the Soul Weaver, and I have the power to draw energy from human souls. I can read auras, wipe memories, and see past lives. I can sometimes hear thoughts.”

Cort was silent for a moment before he gasped. “Wait, you can read my mind?”

Grey shook his head. “No, not yours. You’re completely blank to me. But I normally only hear strong thoughts when people are upset.” Or horny, he thought, but he kept that to himself. “I didn’t even hear you out on that beach. It’s weird, actually. But then, my powers have been mostly muted since I lost my sight. The two are tied together.”


Tags: Jocelynn Drake, Rinda Elliott The Weavers Circle Romance