Blay had no idea what Saxton had just handed him.

Well, yeah, it was a cigar, and yes, it was expensive, but the name hadn't stuck in his head.

"I think you're going to like it," the male said, shifting back in a leather armchair and lighting up his own stogie. "They're smooth. Dark, but smooth."

Blay flicked up a flame off his Montblanc lighter and leaned forward for the inhale. As he took the smoke in, he could feel Saxton focusing on him.

Again.

He still couldn't get used to the attention, so he let his eyes wander around the place: vaulted dark green ceiling, glossy black walls, oxblood- color leather chairs and booths. Lot of human men with ashtrays at their elbows.

In short: no distractions that could come close to Saxton's eyes or voice or cologne or--

"So tell me," the male said, exhaling a perfect blue cloud that momentarily eclipsed his features, "did you put on the pinstripe before or after I called?"

"Before."

"I knew you had style."

"Did you?"

"Yes." Saxton stared across the short mahogany table that separated them. "Or I wouldn't have asked you to dinner."

The meal they'd had at Sal's had been... lovely, actually. They'd eaten in the kitchen at a private table and iAm had made them a special menu of antipasto and pasta, with cafe con leche and tiramisu for dessert. The wine had been white for the first course, and red for the second.

The topics of conversation had been neutral, but interesting--and ultimately not the point. The thread of will-they-or-won't-they was the real driver of every word and glance and shift of body.

So... this was a date, Blay thought. A subtextual negotiation slipcovered in talk of books read and music enjoyed.

No wonder Qhuinn just went for straight sex. The guy wouldn't have had the patience for this kind of subtlety. Plus he didn't like to read, and the music he pumped into his ears was metalcore that only the deranged or the deaf could stand.

A waiter dressed in black came up. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

Saxton rolled his cigar between his forefinger and thumb. "Two ports. Croft Vintage 1945, please."

"Excellent choice."

Saxton's eyes returned to Blay's. "I know."

Blay looked to the window they were seated in front of and wondered if he was ever going to stop blushing around the guy. "It's raining."

"Is it."

God, that voice. Saxton's words were as smooth and delicious as the cigar.

Blay switched his legs around, crossing them at the knee.

As he searched his brain for something to kill the silence, it looked as if no-shit-Sherlock comments about the weather were as close to inspired as he was going to get. The thing was, the end of the date was starting to loom, and whereas he'd learned that he and Saxton both mourned the loss of Dominick Dunne and were fans of Miles Davis, he didn't know what he was going to do when it came to parting ways.

Would it be a case of Call and we'll do this again? Or the infinitely more complicated, messy, and pleasurable, Yes, as a matter of fact, I will come over and look at your etchings.

To which his conscience compelled him to add: Even though I've never done this with a guy before, and in spite of the fact that anyone but Qhuinn is going to be a poor man's substitute for the real thing.

"When was the last time you were out on a date, Blaylock?"

"I..." Blay took a long draw on the cigar. "It's been a long time."

"Whatever have you been doing with yourself? All work, no play?"

"Something like that." Okay, unrequited love wasn't exactly in either of those categories, although the no-play was certainly covered.

Saxton smiled a little. "I was glad you called me. And a bit surprised."

"Why?">

"My cousin has a certain... territorial response to you."

Blay turned his cigar around and stared at the glowing tip. "I think you vastly overread his interest."

"And I think you're politely telling me to mind my own business, aren't you."

"There's no business to mind there." Blay smiled up at the waiter as the guy put two port glasses down on the round table and backed away. "Trust me."

"You know, Qhuinn's an interesting character." Saxton reached out with an elegant hand and picked up his port. "He's one of my favorite cousins, actually. His nonconformity is admirable and he's survived things that would crush a lesser male. Don't know that being in love with him would be easy, however."

Blay didn't go near that one. "So do you come here often?"

Saxton laughed, his pale eyes glinting. "Not for discussion, huh." He looked around with a frown. "Actually, I haven't been out much lately. Too much work."

"You said you're a solicitor in the Old Law. Must be interesting."

"I specialize in trusts and estates so the fact that business is booming is something to mourn. The Fade has become too full of the innocent as of last summer--"

At the booth next door, a bunch of big guts with gold watches and silk suits laughed like the blowhard drunks they were--to the point that the loudest of them slammed back in his seat and knocked into Saxton.

Which didn't go over well, proving that Saxton was a gentleman, but not a pussy: "I beg your pardon, but would you mind toning it down?"

The sloppy human cranked around, his belly fat bulging over his belt until it looked like he was going to pull a Meaning of Life and thin-mint it all over the place. "Yeah. I mind." His watery eyes narrowed. "Your types don't belong here anyway."

And he wasn't talking about the fact that they were vampires.

As Blay took a drink of his port, the high-priced liquor tasted like vinegar... although the bitter sting in his mouth wasn't because the stuff had gone bad.

A moment later, the guy banged back so hard, Saxton nearly spilled his drink. "Damn it to hell," the male muttered going for his napkin.

The fidiot human leaned into their space again, and you had to wonder if that belt wasn't going to snap free and take someone's eye out. "We interrupting you two pretty boys sucking on those hard things?"

Saxton smiled tightly. "You are definitely interrupting."

"Oh, sorrrrry." The man made an abrupt show of lifting his pinkie up from his stogie. "Didn't mean to offend you."

"Let's go," Blay said as he leaned in and snuffed out his cigar.

"I can get us another table."

"You running along, boys?" Mr. Mouth drawled. "You going to a party where there's all kindsa cigars? Maybe we'll follow you just to make sure you get there okay."

Blay kept his eyes locked on Saxton. "It's getting late anyway."

"Which means it's only the middle of our day."

Blay stood up and reached into his pocket, but Saxton put his hand out and stopped him from getting his wallet. "No, allow me."

Another round of commentary from the Super Bowl-and-stripper set soured the air even further and left Blay grinding his molars. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Saxton to pay the waiter and then they were making their way to the door.

Outside, the night's chilly air was a balm to the senses and Blay took a deep breath.

"That place isn't always like that," Saxton murmured. "Otherwise, I would never have taken you there."

"It's all right." As Blay started walking, he felt Saxton fall in beside him.

When they got to the head of an alley, they paused to let a car hang a louie on Commerce.

"So how are you feeling about all this?"

Blay faced the other male and decided life was too short to pretend he didn't know precisely what the "this" was. "To be honest, I feel strange."

"And not about those charmers back there."

"I lied. I've never been on a date before." This got him a cocked brow and he had to laugh. "Yup, I'm a real player."

Saxton's suave air slipped and behind his eyes, true warmth glowed. "Well, I'm glad I was your first."

Blay met the guy's stare. "How did you know I was gay?"

"I didn't. I merely hoped."

Blay laughed again. "Well, there you go." After a pause, he put out his palm. "Thank you for tonight."

As Saxton slipped his hand in, a frisson of pure heat flared between them. "You do realize that dates don't normally end this way. Assuming both parties are interested."

Blay found that he was unable to let go of the male's palm. "Oh... really?"

Saxton nodded. "A kiss is more customary."

Blay focused on the male's lips and abruptly wondered what they tasted like.

"Come here," Saxton murmured, pulling on their connection, drawing him into the shelter of the alley.

Blay followed into the darkness, swept up under an erotic spell he had no interest in breaking. When they were in the lee of the buildings, he felt the male's chest come up against his own and then their hips fused.

So he knew precisely how much Saxton was aroused.

And Saxton knew he was the same.

"Tell me something," Saxton whispered. "Have you ever kissed a male before?"

Blay didn't want to think of Qhuinn right now and he shook his head to clear the image. When that didn't work, and the guy's blue and green eyes lingered, he did the one thing guaranteed to get him to stop thinking of his pyrocant.

He closed the distance between Saxton's mouth and his own.

Qhuinn knew he should have gone right home. After he got summarily dismissed from Tohr's house, no doubt so that John and Xhex could do a little horizontal conversating, he should have gone back to the mansion and cozied up to some Herradura and minded his own goddamned business.

But nooooo. He'd taken form across the street from the only cigar bar in Caldwell and watched--in the rain like a loser--as Blay and Saxton took up res at a table right in the front window. He'd gotten a whole lot of bird's- eye as his cousin had looked at his best friend with an elegant lust, and then some knuckleheads gave them a hard time and they left their cigars barely smoked and their ports mostly unfinished.

Not wanting to get caught in the shadow game, Qhuinn had dematerialized into the alley beside the place... which quickly turned into a wrong place/wrong time kind of gig.

Saxton's voice drifted over on the chilly breeze. "You do realize that dates don't normally end this way. Assuming both parties are interested."

"Oh... really?"

"A kiss is more customary."

Qhuinn felt his fists tighten, and for a split second, he actually thought of stepping out from behind the Dumpster he was standing behind. But to do what? Ride on up into their space and be all red-light, break-it-up-boys?

Well, yeah. Exactly.

"Come here," Saxton murmured.

Shit, the bastard sounded like a sex-phone operator, all husky and mad sexed up. And... oh, man, Blay was going with it, following the guy into the darkness.

There were times when a vampire's incredible sense of hearing was a real ball-gnasher. And of course... it didn't help if you put your head around the corner of the trash heap you were next to so you could have a clear visual shot.

As the two of them came up against each other, Qhuinn's mouth dropped open. But not because he was shocked and not because he wanted in on the action.

He simply couldn't breathe. It was as if his ribs had frozen along with his heart.

No... no, goddamn it, no...

"Tell me something," Saxton whispered. "Have you ever kissed a male before?"

Yes, he has, Qhuinn wanted to scream--

Blay shook his head. He actually shook his head.

Qhuinn squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to calm down enough to dematerialize. As he took form in front of the Brotherhood's mansion, he was shaking like a motherfucker... and briefly considered bending over and fertilizing the bushes with the dinner he'd eaten before leaving with Xhex and John.

A couple of inhales later, he decided it was more appealing to go with plan A and get good and shitfaced. With that in mind, he walked into the vestibule, got let in by Fritz, and headed for the kitchen.

Hell, maybe he'd take it a little further than just a buzz. God knew Saxton wasn't going to want to stop at a kiss or two in a cold, damp alley, and Blay had looked like he was prepared to finally get what he'd needed all along.

So there was plenty of time to hammer the hooch until he blacked the fuck out.

Jesus... Christ, Qhuinn thought as he rubbed his chest and heard his cousin's voice over and over again: Tell me something. Have you ever kissed a male before?

The image of Blay shaking his head was like a scar on Qhuinn's brain, and didn't that just carry him right out the far side of the kitchen to the storage room where the cases of alcohol were kept.

Such a cliche. Getting sauced because you didn't want to deal.

But he might as well do one thing in his life according to tradition.

Heading back through the kitchen, he realized there was at least one saving grace. When the pair of them did the deed, it had to be back at Saxton's house, because no casual visitors were allowed in the king's home, ever.

As he came out into the foyer, he stopped dead.

Blay was just ducking in through the vestibule.

"Back so soon," Qhuinn said gruffly. "Don't tell me my cousin is that fast."

Blay didn't even pause. Just kept on going up the stairs. "Your cousin is a gentleman."

Qhuinn fell in behind his best friend, getting right on the guy's heels. "You think? In my experience, he just looks like one."

That got Blay to turn around. "You always liked him before. He was your favorite. I can remember you talking about him like he was a god."

"I grew out of that."

"Well, I like him. A lot."

Qhuinn wanted to growl, but killed the impulse by cracking open the Herradura he'd snagged off the shelf and taking a swallow. "Good for you. I'm just thrilled for you both."

"Really. Then why aren't you even using a glass."

Qhuinn marched around his buddy and didn't stop as Blay said, "Where're John and Xhex?"

"Out. In the world. On their own."

"I thought you were supposed to stay with them?"

"I was momentarily dismissed." Qhuinn paused at the top of the stairs and tapped the tear that had been tattooed under his eye. "She's an assassin, for God's sake. She can take care of him just fine. Besides, they were hanging at Tohr's old place."

When he got to his room, Qhuinn kicked the door shut and stripped his clothes off. After swigging from the bottle, he closed his eyes and sent out a summons.

Layla would be good company right about now.

Right up his alley.

After all, she had been trained for sex, and all she wanted to do was use him as an erotic gymnasium. He didn't have to worry about hurting her or her getting attached to him. She was a professional, so to speak.

Or she would be when he was done with her.

As for Blay? He had no idea why the guy had come back instead of heading off into Saxton's bed, but one thing was clear. The pair of them were attracted to each other and Saxton wasn't the kind to wait when it came to somebody he wanted.

Qhuinn and his cousin were related, after all.

And that wasn't going to save the sonofabitch in the slightest if he broke Blay's heart.

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