Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 7

Evander rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Ginny was one of a handful of people who knew of his sexual preferences.

Though no longer a punishable crime since the turn of the century, homosexuality was still frowned upon in England and the wider British Empire, particularly by nobles who relied on marriage to maintain their lineage and social standing. Attitudes were more relaxed among the middle class and the magicless, where there was a much greater acceptance of diversity in relationships. The act however still carried a deep level of social stigma among those of a religious ilk, this despite the fact that the practice was known to be rife among the clergy.

Evander first became aware of his interest in men when he was fifteen years old. He was at the Ravenwood estate at the time, on break from the elite, magic boarding school he attended in London. He’d found his gaze following the new stable boy, a strapping young man called William who was three years his senior and freshly arrived from Ireland. A hard working and guileless soul, it hadn’t taken William long to become a well-liked figure on the estate and one the maids often sighed over.

Judging from the way he’d sneaked glances at Evander whenever their paths crossed, the attraction Evander had felt had been mutual.

After procuring several foreign books on the art of sex between men from an obscure shop in London, Evander finally convinced William to teach him the pleasures of the act a year later. Initially reluctant to cross the line that defined their relationship as master and servant, William eventually succumbed to temptation.

Their first attempt at sex was a fumbling affair in one of the barns late one night. Evander had felt more pain than pleasure as William pierced him clumsily with his cock, his grunts and groans echoing in Evander’s ear where he’d bent him over a bale of hay, his hand busy on Evander’s trembling manhood.

The nights that followed and the afternoons in the hunting lodge where Evander had the stable boy accompany him when he went horseback riding brought more delightful experiences, William proving as keen a student as Evander.

Soon, they’d mastered every sinful act a man could perform with another man, thrilled time and time again by the devastating pleasure it brought them.

Evander would forever remember that first enchanting summer when he lost his virginity. The long hours spent exploring his own body and his burgeoning sexuality with a willing partner. The heady feeling of being pinned to a bed by a man, his legs spread wide and his heels propped on his lover’s shoulders as the latter pounded him ruthlessly into the mattress. Performing fellatio and having it performed on him. Being bent over a table or a chair or lifted up against a wall and fucked within an inch of his life. Straddling his lover’s body so he could bounce on the thick cock impaling him to his heart’s content.

The smell of sweat and sex had made Evander’s senses swim as they’d rutted wildly, seeking and taking gratification from one another with a frenzied, almost insatiable hunger, the sounds they uttered animal-like in their intensity.

Their affair lasted three summers and ended when William returned to Ireland. Though they never exchanged words of a romantic nature, Evander still recalled his first lover with fondness. From what he later learned, William went on to marry a woman from his village and was now the proud father of three children.

It wasn’t until Evander attended the Royal Institute for the Arcane that he met a man with whom he entered into a serious relationship. One that lasted until the year before he was forced to take on the mantle of Duke of Ravenwood due to his father’s premature death and became a Special Arcane Investigator.

His sexual encounters since had been few and far between and mostly confined to an exclusive club in Bloomsbury where guests’ identities were masked by illusions and they could indulge their wildest fantasies in sumptuous private rooms equipped with all sorts of wicked restraints and enchanted toys.

Evander ended up procuring one such device for those nights when his needs could not be satisfied with just his hand.

“A penny for your dirty thoughts?”

Ginny’s teasing words brought him back to the present. His ears grew warm at her sly look.

“You know, you really shouldn’t make fun of?—”

Evander froze, his scalp prickling. He’d just caught a whiff of an unsettling magic from the direction of the gardens. His head snapped around, his pulse speeding up.

“Evander?” Ginny asked warily.

He stared into the shadows, trying to pin-point where it had come from. But the scent was already fading on a breeze that carried the fragrance of roses.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny moved closer to him, tension radiating off her as she followed his gaze.

“I—” Evander stopped, not sure if he’d imagined the whole thing. “I thought I sensed something.”

Ginny frowned. She knew better than anyone not to question his instincts.

They were distracted by an “Aha!”

Lord Ashbrooke had appeared on the terrace. “There you are, Ravenwood. Care for a port in the smoking room?” His eyes gleamed with a light that said they had much to converse about.

“Of course, my Lord,” Evander murmured.

He took one last look at the gardens and escorted Ginny into the ballroom.

It was midnight when they thanked the Ashbrookes and prepared to leave. Though the party was still in full swing, they both had commitments in the morning that could not be put off.

By then, Evander had all but forgotten about the incident in the gardens, his mind concerned with the grave matters he’d learned from his host.

Just as he’d suspected, the House of Lords was getting ready to petition the government for the Arcane Division to become a separate entity from the Metropolitan Police. Evander was aware the motion had been gaining grounds in the halls of power, at the behest of a group of elitists who wanted the Arcane Division to become the exclusive remit of the aristocracy.

A department of magic run by nobles for nobles.

It was a dangerous idea and one he feared would make relations even more strained between thralls and those gifted with magic. Worse, it could lead to another war between the two factions. A war the nobles no doubt wanted.

Evander firmly believed the Arcane Division belonged in the Met and that the department needed all types of magic users and even thralls in its workforce. It was the only way to deliver true justice at every level of society, rather than enforce powers that would prove disadvantageous to many. To his relief, it seemed Lord Ashbrooke agreed with his views.

He and Ginny were almost out the front doors when someone called out to him breathlessly.

“Duke Ravenwood!”

Surprise jolted Evander when he turned.

Miss Miller was rushing towards them, her face pale and her eyes strangely glassy. He stiffened when she walked right up to him and grasped his arm, her hold surprisingly strong for someone so slender.

“What the—?!” Ginny mumbled.

Magic warmed Evander’s flesh even through his clothes. He shivered, awed by its purity and power. Ginny drew a sharp breath beside him.

White sparks danced like stars in the depths of Miss Miller’s pupils.

“ Be careful , mage ,” she warned Evander, her voice low and grave. “ You are in danger. You must put your faith in the purple flower. It is the only way you will survive all that is to come! ”

A figure loomed behind Miss Miller in the next instant.

“ Ophelia Miller! ” Lady Wentworth hissed. “Please comport yourself!” The older woman was huffing and puffing, having evidently dashed after her young charge.

Her chaperone’s voice snapped Miss Miller out of her daze. She blinked, awareness returning to her face on a rush of colour.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, your Grace!” She snatched her hand away, mortified. “I don’t know what came over me.” She avoided Evander and Ginny’s eyes, curtsied stiffly, and headed back towards the ballroom.

Lady Wentworth groaned and gathered her skirts before following at a fast shuffle.