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Excerpt: Brush with Catastrophe by Tara Lain;
MM Paranormal with Witches!
College art student
Sammy Raphael is a crappy witch. And he can’t get a boyfriend. Sammy’s had a
passion for his BFF, Ryder McMasters, for years, but Ryder is straight and
human. Talk about hopeless causes! And where other supernaturals can bring down
lightning and manifest wealth, all Sammy can do is paint. True, the “prophetic”
paintings he does at night always come true, but they never predict anything
important -- until he paints a picture of a gorgeous man who turns out to be
Ryder but so changed he’s barely recognizable. Then Sammy paints an angel --who
turns out to be a devil that threatens Sammy’s community and the man he loves.
With the black cat familiar, Aloysius, at his side Sammy steps up to save the
world--with a paint brush.
Aloysius fascinated Sammy. Knowing the beast looked like a
cat but was actually so much more played with Sammy’s mind. While he hadn’t
seen it himself, he’d heard reports of Aloysius screaming down the lightning
from Killian’s shoulder when they had defeated the head of the Witches’ Council
who was trying to control the future of witchery through deceit and
manipulation. Total feline scariness.
Killian stepped up to the lectern. Sammy glanced back at the
rows and rows of students who had filled in behind him. Dr. Barth sure was
popular.
“Good morning, and welcome to the History of Mystical
Practice. Is everyone in the right place?”
One girl sighed, “Oh yes,” and everyone laughed.
Killian smiled. “Please put your notebooks down, place your
feet flat on the floor, rest your hands in your lap, and close your eyes.”
Sammy glanced at Ryder and Chen, who both looked as
mystified as Sammy felt. Sammy closed his eyes.
Killian’s voice sounded soothing. “Take a deep breath in
through your nose and out through your nose.”
Much wushing and hissing filled the room.
“And another one. Now keep your eyes closed, but look upward
as if you could see the spot between your eyebrows. Stare at that spot. If your
mind wanders, just bring it back to that spot.”
Light. Wow. Like somebody had turned on a bulb in Sammy’s
forehead. No, more like a candle, because it felt warm. The warmth spread up
through his head until it reached the top of his skull. Then it seemed to
reverse and started to pour like oil down over his brain. Gods, it felt so
good. Silky, sweet, soothing. He let the heat fill his head, comforting every
cell. Light sparkled behind his eyes. The sparkles and the oil meshed into a
blanket of iridescence that stretched on and on and on…
“Sammy. Psst.”
What? He opened
his eyes, and Chen was staring at him. At the front of the class, Dr. Barth was
lecturing away. What happened? He smiled at Chen. “Sorry.”
Chen whispered, “No problem. I was worried when you didn’t
wake up. Did you actually go to sleep?”
Sammy shook his head. “Not exactly.” He turned his attention
back toward Dr. Barth, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryder
staring at him. Sammy went to take a note. What the hells? On his notepad, he’d
drawn a picture of himself with Aloysius, the familiar, on his shoulder. Every
detail was sketched in pencil down to the silken texture of the cat’s fur. Had
he done it while he was asleep? No, he hadn’t been asleep, just…somewhere else.
But maybe wherever he went was enough like sleeping that his prophetic painting
had kicked in. Was this going to happen? Weird.
Sammy flipped the page and took notes, trying to focus on
Killian, who was telling the class they would have the chance to practice many
techniques in their journey through the history of mysticism. Sammy wasn’t sure
what to make of the practice they’d just done. Maybe he was tired from his
midnight art frenzy.
Finally the class was over. Food seemed like a good idea.
He’d only had the egg and latte this morning, and last night he hadn’t eaten
much of his veggie burger because he’d been nervous about impressing Arnold.
What an idiot. Anyway, lunch. He was light-headed.
Sammy shoved his notepad in his backpack and stood beside
Chen. Ryder waited behind him.
“Mrwar.”
What? Sammy looked
around, then felt pressure on his shins.
“Mrwar.” Aloysius did figure eights, rubbing his silky
blackness against Sammy’s jeans.
“Hi, fella. Hey, good to see you.” That was kind of true
even though the cat made him nervous.
Aloysius jumped up on a seat. The crossed blue eyes stared
up at Sammy. “Mrwar.” And in one fluid leap, the cat soared through the air and
landed smack on Sammy’s shoulder. Just like in the drawing.
“Whoa.” Sammy staggered back two steps and felt Ryder’s
hands gripping his shoulders. The grip was strong and warm.
“Mrwar.”
Ryder laughed, but all Sammy could feel was the heat and
pressure of those hands.
Ryder laughed again. “He’s licking me. His tongue is
scratchy!” Sammy glanced back and saw the cat scraping his long tongue over
Ryder’s fingers. There was something about the power of Aloysius’s tongue that
Sammy ought to remember, but the synapses in his brain weren’t firing. The
synapses in his cock, however, ran rampant. Every one of Ryder’s long fingers
on his shoulders seemed to have a direct connection to Sammy’s balls.
Too soon, Ryder moved his hands. Would that they had
traveled to Sammy’s butt but no such luck. Ryder looked at Sammy. “You okay?”
Sammy cleared his throat. “Fine. Aloysius startled me.”
“Has he ever done that before?”
“Nope.” Sammy reached up tentatively and patted the cat’s
head. Aloysius pushed into Sammy’s hand, and he giggled. “What do you think he
wants?”
“Mr. Raphael, Mr. McMasters, Mr. Chen.” Killian stood in the
aisle, leaning into their row. He was always formal in class. It suited him.
Plus, Ryder was human, so Killian couldn’t reveal too much familiarity. Killian
smiled. “Al seems to have taken to you, Mr. Raphael.”
Alvish, now Ryder, looked up. “Al? Do you mean me, sir?”
That made Sammy’s heart do a double take. He wished Alvish
had taken a liking to him.
Killian smiled. “I call Aloysius Al, but perhaps I should
call him Al number one.”
Ryder shook his head. “No, sir. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d
like to be called Ryder. It’s my middle name.”
Killian leveled his gaze at Ryder. “A new name to go with
your metamorphosis, I gather?”
Ryder nodded. “Something like that.”
Killian reached out a hand to Aloysius. “Come on, Al. We
have places to go.”
Sammy felt the cat circle his neck like a winter scarf and
heard him begin to purr. Sammy reached up to dislodge him and got teeth, gently
but firmly, placed in the pad of his thumb. “Uh, Dr. Barth…”
Killian raised one fair eyebrow. “A new regime, I see.” He
looked at Al. “Are you sure, Al?”
The cat released his teeth from Sammy’s flesh and purred
louder.
“All right, I’m sure he has his reasons. Enjoy your guest
cat, Mr. Raphael.”
“What? But sir… I don’t know how… What in hell am I going to
do with a cat?”
Killian laughed. “Anything he wants.”
E-mail:
tara@taralain.com
Author blog: http://taralain.blogspot.com
Book blog: http://beautifulboysbooks.blogspot.com
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/taralain
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