11. Allan

Chapter eleven

Allan

W e spent the entire morning pouring over books, theories, and properties. My mind had turned to slush sometime before noon, and the amount of information Daddy Patrick kept throwing at me quickly became overwhelming.

Not to mention he spent the entire time in his bathrobe, and it didn't always stay neatly tied up, nor did its short length cover everything up. To say the view was distracting was an understatement.

We drank a lot of coffee, and every time Patrick got up to refill our mugs, that bathrobe opened up a little more.

For a guy his age, I still couldn't believe how in shape he was and how good salt and pepper hair looked.

The man-crush taking root within me made the entire morning a torture session. I had no desire to learn any of the things thrust in front of me, other than the fact that when I answered one of Patrick's questions correctly he rewarded me with smiles and enthusiasm.

His smile created little dimples on each side of his mouth, just above his beard. It was the cutest thing ever. And he always showed just a little bit of teeth. Pure white, totally straight, but it was his eyes… They sparkled when I did something right.

I wanted to make them sparkle all the time.

If Patrick hadn't been so focused on making sure I had memorized the magic theory he presented, I would have made a move. All kinds of moves.

I swear.

His pecs would occasionally flex, and the trimmed but thick hair that covered his torso made me want to grab the sides of his bathrobe, rip them open, and pet him everywhere.

But, no. Instead, I was reciting the various herbs that were associated with the water element for the fourteenth time.

"Patrick, is this really necessary?" I ran my fingers through my hair, grabbed tufts of it, and pulled. Not hard, but enough to feel the sting of the tug.

"You have to know this stuff—it's the basics."

"My brain is mush. Like a giant puddle of soup sloshing around in my head, and if it gets anywhere near my ears, it's going to leak out."

"That's not a thing."

"It will be. Dude, I need a break."

Patrick glanced up at the clock on the microwave, and his eyebrows darted up his forehead when he saw it was nearly one o'clock.

"I'm sorry. I get passionate about magic, and as you can see, I lose all sense of time. I think maybe you're right, a break would be good, as would lunch."

"Oh, thank god."

"Gods."

"What?" I asked, more out of annoyance than an actual interest.

"There's more than one."

"More than one what?" I shook my head and scowled at him.

"You said, ‘oh my god.' There's more than one, therefore the saying is ‘oh my gods'." Patrick stood still in the middle of the kitchen, his bathrobe almost completely open, providing me with a decent peek at most of his muscled chest and his long, toned and thick thighs.

I stared at him with squinted eyes.

If I could tie him up and gag him to make him stop talking, that would be good.

And it would be fun.

Stop .

Patrick noticed me looking at him, grabbed together his robe, and tightened it, shutting off my view.

"I think I'll go throw some clothes on." Patrick stated as he cemented the decision by slugging back the rest of his coffee. He turned to look at me. "Make us a couple of sandwiches, and then after we eat, we'll go out into the backyard and see if we can't tap into your abilities."

He disappeared down the hall.

"This is insane." I put my head in my hands again and clawed my scalp.

"No, it's not!" Patrick yelled from his bedroom. "Sandwiches."

I got up from the table, away from the assortment of books that lay open and the scribbles of notes I had taken.

I shook my head again.

How did I end up here?

"You can do this; just concentrate." Patrick said, for the gabillionth time.

"But I don't know what I'm supposed to be concentrating on!" I whined.

Patrick had dug out a kiddie pool, filled it with water, then made me stand in the center of the giant plastic tub in nothing but my skivvies, and even getting to wear that had been a fight.

"Just take them off."

"I don't think so."

"Are you ashamed of your body? You shouldn't be. You've got a great physique. You should want to flaunt it a little, especially at your age, and besides, magic is best done naked."

"Not happening." This guy had no boundaries.

"Ugh," Patrick clenched his fists at his side.

"I call bullshit. How often are you out in public, have to use magic, and strip down in front of everyone?"

"We don't cast magic in front of people."

"Why not? Didn't you just tell me to flaunt it if I've got it?"

"Not the same thing! Look, the general population can't know that magic actually exists. Keeping the fantasy alive that it might be out there is as far as anyone in the magical community is comfortable with. If people knew, we'd be hunted down, abused for our talents, and dissected by science in a lab somewhere to figure out why one person has magic, but thousands do not."

"So then, I'm keeping my underwear on," I glared at him. He couldn't very well argue against me.

"Fine," he growled. He pitched a rock at me.

"Ow. What the fuck?" I yelled at him.

Argus, who had been sunning himself on the deck, pulled his head up, twisted it sideways, then flopped back down. Kaos croaked from way above our heads, obviously spying on us from some treetop.

He bent over and picked another rock out from a bucket and pitched it at me again.

I tried to dodge but he still managed to hit me. It stung.

"Dude, what the hell?"

And another.

"Fuck off!"

And another.

And that's when the water in the kiddie pool stirred, whirlpooled, and then raised along the sides, spiraling around and around and around.

"There!" Patrick yelled out. "What do you feel right now?"

"Annoyance with an old man who's pitching rocks against my last nerve," I spat out at him.

"Not the best emotional trigger, but it's something. Now feel it, Allan. Go beyond the anger. Go deeper."

" I don't know what that means! " I yelled at him. I was getting so mad.

The water swirled faster, and it rose higher than the lip of the pool.

"Okay, you're frustrated, and I get that, but look at the water! It's acting in response to your emotional state. The more I push your buttons, the stronger the pulse of magic you produce. But you have to go behind the emotion. There's a sensation there, the spot where your ability thrives within you. Get past the emotion to find the spot where the magic lives."

I growled as I gritted my teeth together.

The water rose higher.

"Come on, Allan, dig! It's in there. Look for it."

"Argh!" I yelled at him.

It pissed me off that he could make me so angry in such a short period of time. Just like everyone else in my life. My parents, my friends, my teachers at school when I was younger.

You can do better, you've got more in you, and you're so talented. We want more out of you. Give us more.

Over and over, that was all I heard.

Take, take, and take some more.

I had walked away from my parents as soon as I could move out of the house legally. I had dropped out of school—mostly because of Brent—but also because it wasn't for me. All the expectations, the pushing and striving to be more.

I didn't want more.

I wanted to be left alone.

Like right now.

Mentally walking through my history, so many times I saw myself walking away. I didn't do confrontation, and more importantly, I didn't want others' criticism.

Their condescension, their disappointment, their lack of approval made me feel like less of a human being. So, I simply walked away.

If I couldn't see their faces, I didn't have to witness their derision.

If I couldn't hear their ugly words, I didn't have to confront their issues.

Everyone wanted something from me.

The water rose up past my waist, circling and spinning until it turned into an undulating serpent. One long sinuous body of water, writhing and twisting, taking on a life of its own.

The dragon-like creature of see-through liquid snaked its way out of the pool, flying through the air, then coiling up behind me.

With one swift movement, it darted over my shoulder toward Patrick.

As the projectile stream of water hit him in the face, soaking him, it also attempted to drown him by creating a mask of water around my teacher's nose and mouth, preventing him from breathing.

Patrick's eyes went wide in shock at what I had done.

Then he squinted at me.

His body visibly relaxed.

His eyes closed.

The envelope of water around his head peeled away and reformed back into the water serpent. It snaked around him, forming incredible details as it writhed. A little face with whiskers and bright-blue eyes blinked at me. Fins appeared along the length of the body, flapping in the air.

As Patrick opened his eyes, they sparkled with the same blue as his water beast.

"Once you know where your magic lives within you, once you go behind the raw emotions that control us all, you'll have mastery over your element. You can turn a deadly situation around. You can protect yourself and others. More importantly, you can fight against opponents who would see you be harmed." He raised a fist, then extended his arm as he pointed toward me.

The water dragon hurled itself in my direction. Its once cute little face now an open maw of sharp teeth.

But as it hit me in the chest, it did nothing more than douse me in ice-cold water, soaking me to the bone. Worse, it soaked my tighty-whities, putting all of me on display.

Patrick winked. "Remember this lesson." He then gave me a once-over, stopping a second too long as his gaze reached my crotch. "There, got you naked one way or another. Listen to your teacher. Remember that lesson too."

Water dripped from the tip of his nose. He hadn't got off scot-free, either, and his own clothes were damp from our magical water fight.

"That's enough for today. I'm going to start making dinner. You're going back to your books."

"Ugh, for fuck's sake."

"For all the sakes." He waggled a finger at me. "Go, now."

The rest of the evening saw me sitting at the kitchen table, reading (sort of), playing with crystals and rocks (sort of), and crushing up herbs with a mortar and pestle and refilling jars Patrick gave to me.

"More. It has to be full."

"When are you ever going to need seventeen cups of dried gooseberries ground up into dust?" My hands were cramped, and I was getting a blister from the repetitive motion of pulverizing the dried berries.

"The jar was almost empty, wasn't it?"

I stared at him as he walked back to his chair in the living room. Hate percolated up through my stomach into my throat where I conjured up nasty thoughts and cruel words.

But I didn't speak any out loud.

And any scenario I had of trying to do Patrick harm evaporated, only to be replaced by his nearly naked body.

I couldn't stay mad at him. And that frustrated the hell out of me.

Maintaining my anger around him was impossible. Daddy Patrick could summon it out of me in a heartbeat, but I found myself being more attracted to him than I could ever be angry with him.

"Fuck me." I grumbled.

Patrick sat near the fire he had conjured in the hearth. Argus lay on his pillow, and the demon pterodactyl sat on its perch, preening itself.

I glanced over, and for a split second, I thought I saw the smallest of grins.

He was enjoying this. Perhaps a little too much.