FoM02 Trammel (8 page)

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Noah said. “As long as I can’t set anyone else on fire.”

“I can fix that.” Lindsay let go of the door handle and turned back to Noah, offering his hand again.

The contact helped him narrow his focus and let him work more quickly. This wasn’t the time to force Noah to rely on his own control, as impressive as it was.

Noah slid his good hand into Lindsay’s and let Lindsay into his mind with a sigh that sounded like relief.

“I would hate to hurt you.”

“Unlike Kristan,” Lindsay muttered dryly as he wove the illusion through Noah’s mind, “I have self-control.” He would never be the one to touch Noah first, not that way. If he let himself feel how angry he was that she’d tried to help herself to what he denied himself, to what was
his
, he’d do more harm than good. He could feel the fury lurking.

Noah didn’t say anything, just held Lindsay’s hand tighter, as though he were afraid Lindsay would leave him. Lindsay squeezed back, hoping to reassure him, and let his magic snap into place over Noah’s.

As he led Noah out into the hall, Lindsay didn’t let go of his hand. Around the corner and up the stairs, Noah was silent the whole way.

Opening the door to the room he shared with Dane, Lindsay spared a thought for whether Dane would be upset at finding Noah there. He hoped not. He’d deal with that later. For now, he guided Noah to the bed.

“If he eats me, it’s on your head,” Noah mumbled, crawling into bed obediently. He was wobbly and drunk—on exhaustion or alcohol, Lindsay couldn’t tell. He didn’t smell drunk, though, and it made sense that his body would burn through alcohol quickly.

“He’ll have to go through me first,” Lindsay assured him, pulling a sheet up to cover Noah. Using magic wouldn’t have tired Noah out. His emotional distress must have been terrible. Lindsay wasn’t sure how to fix that kind of thing. Dane knew, but Noah was Lindsay’s problem. “I think he might want to keep me alive. I’m a little bit useful.”

Lindsay sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the sheet up around Noah’s shoulders. With all the heat radiating from Noah’s body, he probably didn’t need the sheet for warmth, but if Lindsay were Noah, he’d want to be covered up right now.

“Worry about yourself, not me.” Noah didn’t protest being tucked in, but he frowned at Lindsay. “If anyone’s going to catch cold around here, it’s you.”

Lindsay looked down to see that his clothes were soaked. He was leaving a wet patch on the bed. He must’ve left a trail of puddles through the house, but he’d been focused on Noah and he hadn’t noticed any of it.

“If winter in the Black Forest didn’t kill me, a little water isn’t going to hurt.” Of course, now that Lindsay had noticed it, he was freezing. He stood and headed for the tiny closet in the corner of the room, shedding his soggy clothes as he went.

He had to peel off the slacks, and his shoes would take days to dry, but finally he was covered in warm, dry jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He came back to the bed with a dry hand towel to soak up some of the dampness he’d left on the sheets, then tossed it toward the hamper with the rest of the wet clothes.

Noah had looked for a moment as if he were falling asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing even.

When Lindsay sat down, though, he opened his eyes again.

“That’s better. Did you...” He paused. “How is...she?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say Kristan’s name.

Lindsay cast back to what the healer had said. Better than the porch, which had likely been destroyed.

“She’ll live.” He didn’t know more than that. “I’ll check on her soon,” he added, running a hand lightly over Noah’s bare head. “You should rest.”

“I will.” Noah closed his eyes and let Lindsay pet him. His breathing slowed and he seemed to fall asleep quickly. He’d been through a lot all at once this evening.

Petting Noah for a few more minutes, Lindsay watched him sleep. He’d screwed up. What if Cyrus hadn’t been here? What if Noah really had been attacked? Lindsay was never going to let this happen again.

He stroked Noah’s head and down the back of his neck one more time before standing. He’d told Noah he would check on Kristan, and he needed to let Dane know what he’d done.

Downstairs, Lindsay didn’t see Dane, but he did find Kristan alone in her room, awake and aware.

The door was partly open and she was curled up in bed. Her hair was cropped short, like someone had taken random handfuls of it and hacked it off with a pair of shears. The moment she realized it was Lindsay in the doorway, her expression went icy.

“Noah asked me to check on you.” Lindsay was trying to feel some sympathy—he’d seen what Noah’s magic was capable of—but he knew how she’d made Noah feel, and that bled in each time he thought about how much pain she must’ve been in.

“He’s insane, you know,” she said bluntly. There was still a splash of hot pink up her chest and throat, and her hands, where they clutched the blanket, were dark red as though she were scalded.

“If I were the one who’d come that close to raping someone, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge his reaction.” Lindsay knew his opinion of Kristan was still colored by jealousy that she’d been with Dane first, but he didn’t like her magic or the way she used it, regardless. She was careless with it, using magic in the place of seduction, and now that he’d felt Noah’s response to it, the idea of that being turned on him made his skin crawl.

“It’s never worked on anyone who didn’t want it,” she shot back. “Not if I didn’t want it to. Don’t accuse me of something I didn’t do. It’s not my problem he’s fucked up.”

“His wife died not long ago,” Lindsay said. “Of course he’s fucked up.”

“He didn’t say no,” Kristan said, looking stubborn. There was a flicker of doubt on her face though.

“He’s a big boy, Lindsay. He could have said something. So could you. If you want all your toys to yourself, say so. I shouldn’t forget you’re an only child.”

“No, he couldn’t. And you shouldn’t have gone to him without asking me first, or at least Vivian.

There are rules.” Lindsay sighed. All the rules in the world wouldn’t help Noah at the moment, or Kristan.

“Leave him alone. If he comes to you, that’s fine, but until then, leave him be.”

“I don’t need anyone’s permission to talk to anyone,” Kristan said flatly. “I don’t hold to the same superstitions as some of you, and it’s not my problem if you can’t deal with it. I didn’t think you’d have gotten your claws into him this fast. But I should have known better. Maybe it’s you, not me. I won’t touch him again, don’t worry.”

The more Kristan blamed Lindsay, the more he wanted to set her on fire himself. He resisted the urge, but damn it, couldn’t she see what she’d done? Lindsay could still feel the acid burn of Noah’s fear and rage in the back of his mind as he tried to rein in his response.

“Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have talked to him. But going beyond that...” He shook his head. “Noah’s not like you. He’s broken, and he needs time to heal.”

“I’m not stupid.” Kristan winced as she rearranged the blankets, pulling them up farther. “I knew he was...upset. But I didn’t hurt him. What I do doesn’t hurt people.” She hugged the blankets to herself.

Lindsay swallowed back his anger and made himself really listen to what she was saying with her words and with her eyes. He could see her angry façade waver. Behind it, she looked fearful.

“I’m sorry. I thought he’d feel better. You don’t have to believe me, but I did. I’m not stupid, okay? I didn’t know he’d blow up the house and nearly get us both kicked out of here.”

The rules Lindsay instinctively followed were meant to prevent things like this from happening. If Kristan had talked to Lindsay first, he could’ve told her Noah wasn’t ready. Instead, they’d both gotten hurt. Lindsay closed his eyes and nodded.

“I know.” When he opened his eyes, he asked, “What did the healer say? You’re going to be all right?”

“Yeah. It’ll fade. It wasn’t that bad. I mean, bad like I would have ended up ugly. But not dead-bad.”

Kristan shrugged and picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Either he’s not all that or he wasn’t trying that hard. Cyrus seems to think he’s all that, though. I didn’t...you know...break him or something, right?”

“No.” Lindsay gave her a little smile. “I did.”

“I don’t want to know.” Kristan made a face. “As long as Cyrus isn’t going to kick me out for ruining one of his shiny things, it’s all good.”

“Don’t worry. Cyrus isn’t the one you’d have to worry about, anyway. Noah isn’t his. Noah is mine.”

And Lindsay wasn’t going to forget it again. “I should get back to him. He’ll be glad to hear you’re going to be all right.”

“Yeah, well. Same here.” Kristan leaned back, looking a little suspicious but not pushing the point.

“Will you close that damn door all the way? I don’t need anyone checking on me.”

Kristan wouldn’t hurt Noah again. That was enough for Lindsay. He backed out of the room and pulled the door shut until it latched. He had to go check on Noah.

When Vivian finally banished Dane and Cyrus to separate parts of the house and went to deal with Kristan, Dane came back to his room—his den—to find Lindsay sound asleep with Noah beside him in the bed. Noah had wriggled out of the sheet and half out of his robe, hot, scarred skin stark against the expensive white sheets Lindsay loved. Lindsay usually had the covers pulled up to his ears, but with a living hot water bottle in the bed, he wasn’t so hidden. He had his back pressed to Noah’s and was sleeping as soundly as he did when Dane was with him, soundly enough that he didn’t wake when Dane came in.

That was a rare thing and Dane couldn’t help smiling, his ill temper fading in the face of Lindsay’s obvious contentment.

Noah, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as soundly asleep. Dane could read it in the lines of his body and the catch in his breathing. Maybe he’d fall back asleep if Dane ignored him.

Dane left his clothes over the back of the chair as usual and—quietly—dug around in a drawer for the pajamas he never wore but Vivian always bought in spite of his complaints. If they’d all been more familiar with each other, Dane wouldn’t have bothered. He slipped in on his side of the bed and was gratified when Lindsay migrated into his arms almost before his head was on the pillow.

Burying his nose in Lindsay’s silky hair and breathing in his young, warm scent was soothing.

Someday, this would be over, he reminded himself. He always reminded himself. That day was not today, and that was more than enough. Dane closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Tried. Noah’s breathing never lapsed into the rhythms of sleep. As much as Dane didn’t want it to be his problem, it was, since the man was in his bed. He could feel the subtle tension of Noah fighting sleep, even with Lindsay’s limp, contented body between them.

It wasn’t often that Dane snuck away when Lindsay slept, but he knew how. After carefully shifting Lindsay’s affectionate strangulation to a hapless pillow, he rolled out of bed without lifting the covers enough to let in the cool night air. Lindsay never dreamed, and he slept like a leaf floating on water. Dane had to be careful. He hoped Noah would be.

He padded around to where Noah lay and stood waiting. It didn’t take but a few moments for Noah to lift his head. Not sleeping at all. Dane went to open the door and waited until Noah stepped out into the hall, then closed it behind them.

“He sleeps like shit,” Dane muttered by way of explanation for the cautious routine. “Apparently it runs in the family.” He headed downstairs to the kitchen. If he had to be awake, he was going to fill the time with beer and with whatever else he could find in the fridge.

“I can go to my own room,” Noah said, once they were away from the door.

“Not what I’m after.” Dane stifled his irrational irritation at the offer. If Lindsay wanted Noah in their bed, that was between him and Lindsay. He sure as hell wasn’t going to take it up with Noah.

Noah kept his mouth shut the rest of the way to the kitchen. Dane didn’t need the lights on and neither, apparently, did Noah, at least not to find a stash of bottles up behind the coffee mugs. Dane didn’t

want to smell scotch all night, but he wasn’t the one with his head in a knot. If alcohol had worked better on him, he’d have turned to it more times than he could count.

They were out of steak, but there were eggs in the fridge, and bacon. Dane didn’t like either of them raw—he’d have to cook. He dropped the package and the carton on the counter, and went to get a pan.

“I can do that.” Noah sounded like shit.

“Thought Lindsay turned your magic off for you.”

“I can use a stove.”

Damn. Not even a snort of amusement. “I’ll do the cooking. You’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Fun?” The mouth of a scotch bottle chimed off the rim of a mug as Noah’s hands shook.

“Well, I’m sure Lindsay was amused. He can’t stand Kristan. Partly my fault, I’m sure.” Dane started laying bacon in the pan. “Don’t suppose I’m cooking for two.”

“Not unless there’s something about your shapeshifting you’re not sharing with the rest of us.” A chair scraped, creaked, and Noah sighed.

“Hardly. You know, the healer would have stayed for you if you’d said something.” Dane could smell the tang of Noah’s wounds under the scent of his unnatural heat.

“I’ve had enough healers. Some things... You know the saying.”

“I’ve heard it before.” Wounds that came from the inside out didn’t heal. Lindsay still had the scars from his personal hell. “Wasn’t sure how much time had passed.”

“Too much.” Noah’s voice was thick with longing.

That was a sure sign it hadn’t been long enough, as far as Dane was concerned. Not long enough to trust Noah to hold himself together on any given day. In a crisis, maybe, but if Dane knew anything—and he knew more than he let on—Noah was likely to level Atlantic City in an attempt to defend their little family. Dane didn’t mind, but the human population didn’t need much provocation to round them all up in camps right now.

“I’m sorry.” It was polite to say, and Dane was surprised to find he meant it. The animal in him grieved and moved on, without much sense of time or regret. Now that he was fully himself, now that he had Lindsay, his small sense of empathy had crept back in.