The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

by Cat Sebastian

His voice was, Percy reflected inanely, the verbal equivalent of the stubble on his jaw—rough, careless, inconveniently attractive.

“Spoken like a man about to ignore some good advice,” Scarlett said ruefully.

Kit’s heart twisted with some unspeakable, unwanted fondness. Percy was somehow still young or naive enough to think that there was any difference between being strong and acting strong.

And again, Kit found himself wanting to be there when Percy figured it out, when he learned what he was worth.

Kit stared at him. “You’ve gone daft.” “I love you.” “Like I said.”

He had been like that from the start; in the world as Kit saw it, getting supper and committing felonies and attempting to dismantle ancestral power were all equally probable events. That struck Percy as about right.

He imagined shared meals, shared time, coffee cups migrating from one building to the other.