Laars turned towards the door, just knowing that he was going to see Saul there and he wasn't disappointed. Holy shit. He’d gone all out to look absolutely stunning. His jaw dropped as Saul started to walk towards him. Holy hell… Well, it looked like he’d planned his outfit for months in advance.
It was perfect. He was dressed as a black cat. His skin-tight body suit, sporting a sleek, black tail that seemed to waver behind Saul like a real cat’s tail would and the air seemed to crackle around him
with some sort of magical force. Hell, it was lighting up the space he was walking through with an eerie green haze… His cat ears looked real, as did his whiskers and the prosthetic facial make-up
was unbelievably realistic. There was no mistaking the eyes however, even if they did look more like the shape of his own – that would probably be down to the amazing make-up job. Laars would
recognise Saul’s eyes straight away even if there were a million cats in front of him.
Their eyes met and Saul’s face lit up into the most delighted smile that Laars had ever seen. Oh, God. He
wanted nothing more than to kiss those luscious lips. Maybe he would later, once they’d both had a couple of drinks to loosen them up… A dark corner, Saul’s favourite cocktail or two and then he’d make his move…
He walked over, his legs feeling ever-so-slightly wobbly at the turn his thoughts had taken. The effect that Saul had on him was sometimes a little alarming. “Hi.” He said huskily, “You look awesome.”
Saul beamed at him, “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice going up in delight, “I made it all myself.”
Laars’ eyes roved over his friend’s body. He’d made it himself? Wow.
Laars sat himself down on the sofa and his gaze scanned Nigel Blackthorn’s office in seconds. His heart skipped a beat as he recognised his beautiful boyfriend from a photo on the sideboard of a family shot taken a few years earlier when Saul was just a boy. The photo gave the impression of a happy home life. No doubt Nigel liked to make
his colleagues believe him to be a family man... Laars knew different, because Saul had told him plenty about his young life, all about his difficulties with practicing magic and an increasingly angry father when he wasn’t making the grades, that made his life a living hell.
He wasn’t looking forward to meeting the man – but it seemed that Nigel wasn’t all that keen to come face-to-face with him either. A cup of tea appeared on the
coffee table in front of him.
“Drink.” The disembodied voice of what he assumed was Nigel Blackthorn spoke.
Laars shook his head, “No, thank you.” He ground out, “I’m not thirsty.”
“It wasn’t a request, it was an order.” The voice echoed.
Laars smiled, “Oh, dear – am I not complying with your commands well enough? That must be down to my red hair and green eyes – we demons never can do as we’re told.”
He had no idea where the comment came from. He’d never even thought about demons before and he chuckled at the absurdity of it all, “although, I notice that you too have the green eyes, don’t you, Mr Blackthorn. Maybe you’re the
demon, huh?”
Silence ensued and then the voice repeated the order in precise, clipped words, “Drink the tea.”
“NO!” Laars roared, beginning to lose his cool and the worry about his beautiful boyfriend beginning to get the better of his temper. “I DON’T WANT TO DRINK THE TEA!”
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