FoM02 Trammel (5 page)

The power was incredible, but the rage burned so deep in Noah that Lindsay couldn’t begin to see the bottom. Noah’s magic was dangerous, and Lindsay could see why someone would send him to Cyrus for safety, but the magic wasn’t Noah’s problem. Noah had complete control over the magic. What he wasn’t in control of was
himself
.

The anger inside him held all the heat the illusory fire lacked. It was hot and white and ready to rip him wide open with the slightest provocation. Lindsay could feel it pressing at Noah’s seams and aching to tear Noah apart. The magic, Lindsay could handle, but he had no idea what to do with all that self-hatred eating Noah from the inside out, except to let it burn itself out with the fire that was filling the pool and creeping up the walls.

Noah looked at him, through the fire and the distance, and his eyes were like blue stars lit with fire from within. For a moment, Lindsay could see into them and he saw what was behind them. It was too much information, too many images at once for him to put them in order or assign them significance, and then Noah closed his eyes again. He pushed his hands out to ward something off and Lindsay heard as much as felt the word, “No.”

The rush of power that followed was like a nuclear warhead hitting ground zero where Noah stood.

Utter devastation rolled outward, devouring and furious fire. Instead of losing strength, Noah simply became stronger, like the fire. He could see through the fire, see what the fire saw, feel what the fire felt.

Everywhere the fire was, he was, raging from that endless wellspring of pain and fury that was somehow contained under his skin.

Finally, he found something of a limit. The fire became too immense and broke off into non-sentient, mundane infernos. If they hadn’t been illusions, the destruction would have continued unabated.

Noah began to withdraw. Lindsay could feel him pulling back the power, extinguishing those seedling fires, reining all of it in until only the room they stood in roared like a furnace. Then that was gone, between one breath and the next. The fire was out. Almost out.

Everywhere that Lindsay could see, the ruined space had become a garden. A garden of molten gold climbing roses, with rustling leaves and delicate tendrils that clung to the remains of the walls and ceiling and floor. From the shadows, sparks fell like tiny stars, a light rain of fire, and each star burst against the ground before it faded away. When a tentative breeze sighed through the building, the entire garden breathed with it, and roses—in every color of fire—began to bloom.

All that rage and power and still Noah had this inside him. He was scarred and burned and broken, incredibly fragile, but beautiful, too. Lindsay wanted to call him back, to draw him in and soothe away the burns until this took the place of the anger running wild under Noah’s skin.

“They’re almost a weed.” Noah walked toward Lindsay, his steps slow and lazy. He looked more at peace than Lindsay had seen before. “They grow everywhere. But they have magic of their own. If you have the sight, you can see it at the right hour, though you might think it was a trick of the light.” He opened up his ruined hand and a rose unfolded there. The petals spread, growing into delicate wings, and it flew away. All the fires faded into nothing as it soared into the dark. “Have I done well?”

The fire might not have been real, but making it had left Noah sleek with sweat. Rivulets tracked down his bare chest, skirting his wounds and skating along his scars to soak the waist of his pants. It wasn’t just his magic that was beautiful. But Lindsay couldn’t touch him. He was too fragile.

Lindsay held out his hand. “Time to come back now, Noah.”

“You should put the barre on me.” Noah took Lindsay’s hand tentatively; his fingers sliding against Lindsay’s palm made him shudder convulsively and he swallowed hard, as though he were nauseated. Fire sputtered along the sweat lines on his chest. “There are times...” He closed his eyes. “I forget. And then I remember again. All the time.”

“I can’t.” Lindsay wouldn’t apologize for it. The thought of it made him want to scrape his own scars raw. He had to give Noah something, though, some way to hold the fire at bay. “But I can do this. I can keep you from touching the magic, if that’s what you need. For the night, at least. You need to sleep.”

Noah nodded and Lindsay couldn’t tell if there was real agreement there or just acquiescence. “Thank you.” Noah’s shoulders slumped, and Lindsay could feel his shame clearly—like a mirror, it was so familiar.

“I’ll keep you safe.” That assurance had been one of the most important things Dane had given Lindsay, in the beginning. For Noah, the danger came not from people hunting him but from his own magic and, maybe, Cyrus had been right to give him to Lindsay. None of the others—none but Cyrus himself—

could keep him safe from that.

“As you will.” Noah exhaled slowly. “Was there anything more?” He looked at Lindsay from under his lashes. His eyes were an almost unearthly shade of blue.

“Nothing.” Lindsay let his hand go to reach for the shirt hanging from the wall. “I think we should stop and buy you a lighter on the way home, though.”

“And here I just threw all mine out.” Noah shrugged into his shirt, tugging it down as it resisted sliding over his damp skin.

“You can’t go around lighting cigarettes with your fingertip in front of humans, anyway,” Lindsay pointed out. He passed over Noah’s jacket next, and headed for the door.

“I know what humans are like.” Noah pulled the jacket on as he followed. “I used to be one. I just...wasn’t expecting to end up back here. Out in the world. Without my magic.”

“Well, I’m sure you couldn’t have anticipated this. Not every mage gets their very own illusionist to cut them off from their magic.” Lindsay pushed through the double doors and out into the corridor. Maybe teasing would make this easier for Noah. Maybe.

“I wondered if this was part of some fancy new charity program. Home for Wayward Fire Starters.

Donate now, because every year, Fire Starters all over the world are left homeless.” Noah sighed and shook his head. “When I was twelve, I could hardly wait for this.”

Noah had grown up knowing what magic was. Lindsay wondered what that would have been like.

“When I was twelve, I had no idea any of
this
existed.”

“Cyrus thinks he’s clever, I see.” Noah pulled out the flask and took a drink, a long one. Lindsay watched Noah as they stepped out into the night.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Better to know now. Lindsay couldn’t change that he hadn’t been born to the magical world.

“No. Maybe for some. Not me. I left and lived in the world. He’s avoiding having you learn only Dane’s terrible manners. Terrible by our standards. Fine for his kind.” Noah snorted and took another drink, draining the flask. “There’s a store up here.” He gestured ahead. “I guess I’ll pick up that lighter while I’m in there.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

Lindsay stopped at the corner and watched the people passing him by. None of them knew about the magical world either. They all lived on the surface, where magic was something found in fairy tales and fantasies. He’d lived there too, once. Not anymore. The depths of the magical world were home, now. He could hardly imagine leaving the way Noah said he had. But Noah’s magic was new, he’d grown up believing he was human in a magical world. Wrong, exactly the way Lindsay had always been.

When Noah came out, he had a lit cigarette in his mouth, a brown paper bag under one arm, and a six-pack of beers dangling from his good hand. He looked, in the garish lights of the store and the shadows from the streets, disposable. Human.

“Don’t want to keep you out past your bedtime,” he said, blowing smoke as he squinted up at the moon.

“Despite all appearances, I am actually an adult,” Lindsay shot back. He pushed away from the wall and led Noah toward home. The sidewalks were less crowded now; everyone who’d been shopping earlier had returned to the bars and casinos.

“I wasn’t assuming you’d be sleeping.” Noah’s grin was as wicked as it was unexpected, and his eyes flashed with hot amusement. “I can’t see Dane denying himself too much longer, Cyrus’s orders or not.”

That caught Lindsay off-guard, and he was torn between laughter and wanting to see more of that wickedness. He gave in to the laughter.

“We’ll see.”

Noah was right, though Lindsay didn’t say it—Dane wouldn’t stay away. That sense of certainty was a new luxury.

Once he’d dropped Noah off at the back porch to commence the evening’s drunk, Lindsay went upstairs to the room he shared with Dane. His body was still humming with his reaction to Noah’s magic—

to
Noah
, if he were being totally honest with himself—and he needed to shake that off, to find his balance again.

Much to Lindsay’s surprise, the light was on in their room. In the moment that he was still taking in the fact that Dane was back, the door swung open and light squeezed out in the narrow spaces left between his body and the doorframe.

“Making me wait?” The rumble was softened by a grin.

“Not anymore.” Lindsay stepped up to offer Dane a kiss.

It had only been a few days, but he’d missed that smile. Maybe that was— No, no excuses. Being attracted to Noah had nothing to do with Dane being gone and everything to do with Noah himself. It didn’t matter, though. Lindsay wasn’t going to touch him.

Dane made a happy noise and pulled him in with an arm around his waist, taking him off his feet enough to get him into the room. The door thumped shut while Dane was making sure Lindsay was thoroughly kissed.

“You seem healthy,” he said, nipping at Lindsay’s lower lip. He groped Lindsay’s ass with both hands, pulling back and looking at him with a mock frown. “You can tell me everything I missed while I’m making sure.”

“Me, I hope.” Lindsay stood on his toes to lick under Dane’s chin. Dropping back to his feet, he admitted, “I took Noah out to see him work his magic.”

“Mm, I thought as much.” Dane nuzzled Lindsay’s nose with his own. “How’d that go? Is he behaving for you?”

“Better than I did for you, I think.” Lindsay caught Dane’s hand and drew him toward the bed. “He knows how all this is supposed to work. I didn’t. I still don’t.”

“You know what you need to know.” Dane snuck his fingers into Lindsay’s pocket and snagged the barre. “You mind keeping this thing farther away from your important bits?” He threw it toward his desk without looking and it landed in a half-open drawer. “Like all of you?”

“I’d have thrown it in the dumpster, but...” Lindsay had personal experience with that kind of thing falling into the wrong hands, and he didn’t want to be the cause of it happening again.

“Might come in handy for someone.” Dane nudged Lindsay into bed and followed him, crawling up over him to nuzzle in his hair and nibble his neck. “Can think of at least one. You gonna be able to keep your boy from roasting us all in our sleep?”

“As long as I’ve got my magic, he can’t touch his.” Lindsay liked that solution a hell of a lot better than the barre. That damn thing could be melted down to its component parts, and he still wouldn’t want anything to do with it. He wasn’t going to say that out loud, though. He didn’t need to admit how much the thing had bothered him. “Besides, I don’t think his magic is the problem.”

“Got that, did you?” Dane tugged at Lindsay’s pants and grumped in his ear. “You’re not acting like a man who wants to wear these clothes again.”

“Stop kissing me long enough that I can think and I’ll take them off.” Jeans and an oxford, but Lindsay would rather not have to replace them.

“Damn.” Dane flopped over on the bed with a long-suffering groan. “You know, you could make everyone else
think
you have clothes.” He actually gave Lindsay a hopeful look.

Lindsay laughed, shedding his clothes and tossing them toward the chair in the corner. Unlike Dane, he had to look to aim, but he managed to keep almost everything off the floor. “If I did that, we’d never make it out of the bedroom.”

“That would be a bad thing?” Dane’s jeans followed Lindsay’s clothes and landed on the back of the chair. He caught Lindsay around the waist again and pulled him back, curling up around him and purring

shamelessly. “Never hurts to get out and fuck in an alley or on a pool table once in a while, I guess.” His cock slid against the curve of Lindsay’s ass as he got Lindsay tucked up against him. “Could do a little saving the world out there too, to keep Cyrus from whining.”

It wasn’t easy to focus on Dane’s words when Lindsay could feel Dane’s naked body pressed against him. “Or you could fuck me right now.” It felt like he’d been turned on for hours already.

“It’s an emergency, is it?” Dane teased. He moved, propping himself up on one elbow so Lindsay was cradled in the crook of his arm and Dane could lean down to give him kisses. “Good thing I’m home to rescue you.” He slid his free hand down to cup Lindsay’s cock and balls, purring with pleasure as he petted.

Lindsay shifted onto his back and parted his legs, getting his fingers tangled in Dane’s long hair and pulling him close for more kisses.

“Yes,” Lindsay muttered against Dane’s lips. “A crisis of epic proportions.”

Dane’s soft laughter was muffled by their kisses and he obediently reached for the lube. As light as his mood had been, it didn’t take more than moments for it to turn possessive. He pinned Lindsay to the bed with his weight, pushing Lindsay’s legs farther apart as he slid between them.

Pulling away from kissing Lindsay to bite at his throat instead, Dane slid two slick fingers into him.

Lindsay arched with it, moaning and demanding Dane move faster, give him more. He needed this like breathing.

“Could watch that all day,” Dane whispered, but he pushed in all at once.

The rush of being filled up left Lindsay gasping for breath. He dragged Dane back down to kiss him again, licking and nipping at his lips until Dane opened up for him. This was exactly what he’d been craving.

Purring, Dane submitted to the demands of Lindsay’s kisses as he wrapped Lindsay up in his arms and held him close. He’d always known what Lindsay needed—he had been infuriating about making him say it—and that hadn’t changed.