FoM02 Trammel (12 page)

Chapter Five

The drive home was silent. Even Kristan knew when to keep her mouth shut. When they stopped in the driveway, Noah disappeared into the house before Lindsay could say anything.

Lindsay didn’t find Noah upstairs, nor Dane. What he found instead was a locked door. Noah wouldn’t lock Lindsay out of his own room, so it must have been Dane. He’d think about that once he found Noah. Lindsay checked the back porch, but still no Noah. Finally, he found Noah in his old room, the room he hadn’t slept in since the incident with Kristan. Lindsay hadn’t been ready to let him go; he could relax at night when he knew Noah was sleeping.

The room wasn’t big, only enough space for a bed and a dresser. Noah had, at some point, shoved the bed over by the window and he sat there now on the window ledge, smoking a cigarette. A half-empty bottle swung gently as he tipped it back and forth, watching the amber liquid wash up the sides. After a moment of thoughtful contemplation, he took a drink.

Lindsay didn’t bother asking Noah if he was all right. Of course he wasn’t. Noah hadn’t been all right since he’d come here. At best, today hadn’t helped.

Lindsay settled on the bed and watched him drink, but watching wasn’t going to fix anything.

“Come here.”

Noah put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the sill, then took another drink. “Are you okay?” It wasn’t obedience, but it wasn’t outright rejection, either.

“I’ll live.” Lindsay pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. If Noah wasn’t going to come to him, he might as well be comfortable. He let Noah guide the conversation for now, hoping it would help him relax. “It’s easier now that I can keep them out of my head.”

“How many...” Noah started, then shook his head. “I tried to keep it in one place. I just...they were going to kill him, or something. Worse. I don’t even know who they are.”

“Hounds. They belong to Dr. Moore.” Lindsay swallowed down a surge of bile that threatened to fill his mouth. “They’re...not human. Not quite mages either. Dane says their blood tastes poisoned, that Moore probably made them what they are in one of her...” He had to take a slow breath to keep his voice from catching. “In one of her experiments.”

Lindsay couldn’t let himself get distracted by Moore, though. Not right now. Noah was still vibrating enough that the alcohol sloshed in the bottle, and Lindsay held out his hand.

“Come here,” he said again.

“They’re gone now.” Noah left the bottle on the sill and came down this time. “I don’t know... I’d feel better if it had felt terrible. It didn’t.” He looked grim and distraught at once.

“I understand.” Lindsay slid over to sit with his back to the wall and coaxed Noah to sit beside him.

“It isn’t easy, but you did the only thing you could do. And thank you for it. They might have killed him, or they might have taken him back to whatever Moore is calling a lab these days, and let Jonas do it instead.”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him if I could help it.” Noah slid his arm around Lindsay and hugged him a little. “Or you. I promise. I owe you both. And I’ve had my lifetime full of being helpless already.” He gave Lindsay another squeeze.

Lindsay sighed and leaned into the embrace, reaching across to lay his hand on Noah’s chest. He knew what Noah was remembering, but didn’t know how to say so without sounding like he’d betrayed Noah’s trust somehow. “I’m sorry you were thrown into all this,” he said instead. “This isn’t what you signed on for.”

“You make it sound like it was my choice.” Noah snorted derisively. “I admit, I wasn’t going to deal, being stuck at home, no matter how much anyone tried. And I’m not stupid enough to assume Cyrus didn’t have a use for me if he took me into his house. There’s only so much I’m good for. He’s not running a steakhouse.”

There was a pause, then Noah gagged and shuddered. “Okay, no more cooking jokes.” He reached up and back to grab the bottle he’d left on the sill. Lindsay didn’t object when he took a long drink.

“His reasons don’t dictate that I can’t feel bad you’ve gotten dragged into my mess.” Irrationally, Moore felt like
his
problem. Knowing Moore had that girl made Lindsay feel sick inside. He was torn between wanting to run as fast and far as he could and wanting to demand Cyrus help him find her.

“And if I say you can’t?” Noah took another drink and put the bottle back. “I could have skipped out.

I knew I’d be getting in the shit. Can’t think of anywhere else I’d go, though.” He shrugged and snuggled Lindsay against him, wrapping both arms around him protectively and pressing his cheek against Lindsay’s hair. “Can’t argue it’s been therapeutic.”

Lindsay laughed. “Therapeutic, hm?” Noah wasn’t the same man who’d first been given to Lindsay, so maybe he was right. Maybe all of this was good for him, somehow.

“It’s good to belong somewhere,” Noah said quietly. He started combing his long, hot fingers through Lindsay’s damp, matted hair, untangling it with practiced gentleness. The storm had wreaked a good bit of havoc on it, but Noah’s fingers never snagged or pulled.

“You don’t smell like smoke. Guess I have to thank the weather witch for that,” he murmured. “You should be tired. You worked hard. What you did... Even if I wasn’t yours, I wouldn’t let someone take you.”

It was worth the exhaustion. But he wished he’d been able to help that girl too.

“You’re the one who put out all those fires,” he pointed out.

“You’re too new to all this to understand the whole of it.” Noah hummed softly as he worked through Lindsay’s hair. The task seemed to comfort him because Lindsay could feel his tension fading. “It’s a bit charming. The one Moore has must be as gifted as you are, in her own way. But it wouldn’t matter if she were mundane. Some things can’t happen to anyone.”

“I hope we can help her before Moore...” Lindsay shook his head and sighed. Moore had done terrible things to him, and he didn’t want to think about any of it happening to someone else. “I should’ve killed her when I had the chance.”

“Don’t think like that,” Noah said, shifting so Lindsay could see his frown. “Your damn government lets her run out of control.
Someone
should have killed her long before you came along. And today, you are the only one
not
to blame for what went wrong. You did everything right.”

“That’s not unlocking the door between me and Dane right now.” Lindsay was willing to let the issue of Moore go, but being shut out made him feel like
something
must be his fault.

Noah’s expression twisted. “That can hardly be your fault, either,” he said slowly, like he was plucking each word out of a minefield. “If Dane falters, you might close the door on me someday. In the past, Cyrus would never have failed, Lin. Today, he did.”

Lindsay’s frustration disappeared as Noah shone a light on what he’d missed. Cyrus had failed... That was how Moore’s people had gotten away with the mage Cyrus had been so determined to save.

What Noah was suggesting finally sank in. The idea of losing Dane was terrible and left him with a yawning emptiness in his chest that he had to take slow, deep breaths to try to fill. He couldn’t imagine how Dane felt—Dane had belonged to Cyrus for a long time. And Cyrus, the thought of being without him left Lindsay feeling exposed. Cyrus kept them safe.

“I’m sorry, Lindsay.” Noah stroked his hair and tried to comfort him. “No one is going to talk about it, at least not to us. It’s not our place. It’s for the three of them to deal with. Someday, it’ll be our place, if we live that long. Right now, it’s our place to do what Dane needs. Including getting by without him.”

Lindsay slid himself closer to Noah, soaking up the comfort he was offering. He didn’t want to think about any of it. There had been such a brief moment in which the world was right, and now he felt as though everything could fall apart in the space of a breath. He didn’t want to get by without Dane. Ever. He couldn’t put words around the way Dane made him feel, but he knew he didn’t want to live without it.

“Try to rest, so you’ll be awake later.” Noah shifted to curl up with Lindsay. Noah was right, Lindsay was exhausted. He turned toward Noah and tucked his face down against Noah’s chest, blocking out the light. Blocking out the world.

Noah was incredibly warm, and it was so good to be with him like this. Lindsay was chilled through

with exhaustion, but it wasn’t only the warmth. It was the sense that they were both where they were

supposed to be. Even if Dane couldn’t be there to comfort him, it was easy for Lindsay to drift off to sleep because he had Noah.

Lindsay had no idea how long he’d slept, but the room was dimmer when Noah’s movements woke him. He rubbed at his gritty eyes with the heel of his hand and rasped, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Noah paused and gave him a gentle pet. “Just... I keep smelling smoke. Not the cigarette kind. Need to shower. Go back to sleep, but if you get up, don’t forget to eat. Dane will eat me if you go hungry.” He grabbed a towel from the back of the door and padded out into the hall.

Lindsay dozed off again, but the sound of the shower from down the hall kept dragging him back up out of sleep. He lay there a moment, soaking up the warmth left by Noah’s body. Sleeping with Noah had felt wonderful, but his conscience nagged at him about something, forcing him to pay attention until things became more clear.

In flashes of wakefulness that had flickered between long, dark silences of deeper sleep, he’d pressed himself against Noah, as close as clothing and skin would allow. That was how he slept with Dane, the lines between sleep and the suggestion of sex blurred by their intimacy and familiarity.

Damn it. He’d felt safe and close, his body had been seeking and provoking the arousal that reassured him he was wanted, without regard for the fact that he was offering himself to the wrong person. And how could it be the wrong person, when no one but Dane had ever made him feel safe before?

Only that realization kept him from feeling more guilty than he did already. With Noah, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. Lindsay was supposed to be the one keeping Noah safe. He should have been offering Noah reassurance and comfort, not sex. Sex didn’t mean those things between them. It shouldn’t mean anything at all, except that Lindsay had gone and done that. It wasn’t the first time his sleep-addled instincts had driven him across a line he never would have crossed awake.

He hoped Noah would understand. At least Noah hadn’t seemed out of sorts. He’d just gotten up and left. Given how disastrously Noah had reacted to Kristan, Lindsay thought he’d know if Noah was distraught. Noah had been turned on, though, breath thick on Lindsay’s neck and cock hard against his ass, but thankfully, even with them both half-sleeping and Noah half-drunk, it hadn’t gone further.

Pushing his hair out of his face, Lindsay sat up. He should go. He just...he hadn’t expected Noah to respond to him. Now that Lindsay was awake, Noah’s response was almost more perturbing than Lindsay doing something thoughtless in his sleep. Dane was the only one who’d ever shown any hint of that kind of interest in him. He hadn’t thought to look for it from someone else, especially not someone he was attracted to, like Noah.

At least he could talk to Dane about it if he had to. Dane would probably laugh at him, the way he’d laughed when he’d been the recipient of Lindsay’s improper early-morning affections. The shower cut off and Lindsay made himself move. Noah needed his privacy. And maybe Dane would be ready to let Lindsay in.

He slipped out of Noah’s room before Noah came out of the bathroom, and padded up the stairs as quickly as he could manage without sounding like a herd of cattle tromping through the house. Partway up, he collided with something solid. Dane.

Writing Ezqel was as painful as if Dane had done it in his own flesh with a knife, and the pain lingered instead of fading. For once, the wretchedness of dealing with Ezqel had nothing to do with the icy truce between them. If Dane had reason to hate Moore before, he had ten times the reason now. Her madness, and the complicity of those around her, was killing Cyrus. Dane wanted this over, and was ready to do anything to make it happen.

Cyrus’s prediction that Dane would fail him one day had always felt like it would manifest in a single, terrible event. Instead, it was happening over weeks and months. In little ways, every time Dane set out to do something, he failed. Even how he felt about Lindsay was a failure, in terms of doing what Cyrus truly needed of him.

Dane wanted to regret that, and the fact that he couldn’t nagged at him. How could he regret anything about Lindsay, except that he’d never known Lindsay existed before Lindsay saved himself from Moore?

In spite of all his efforts to chastise himself for putting Lindsay first time and again, he could only regret that Cyrus hadn’t sent him after Lindsay sooner.

Vivian would take care of the letter when she returned, which Dane expected any hour now. Cyrus slept under Negasi’s care. And Lindsay... Dane unlocked the door to their room. He hoped Lindsay had been with Noah, but now that he’d done what Cyrus needed of him, he wanted Lindsay to himself.

Dane could hear the bathroom fan running and, over the noise, he was sure he could hear the near-silent patter of Lindsay’s feet on the stairs. He kept as quiet as possible himself, not wanting to wake Cyrus.

Sure enough, Lindsay was almost at the first landing, head down, watching where he stepped. Some habits were harder to break than others. Dane wanted to shake him for it sometimes. Instead, he held still and let Lindsay collide with him. Lessons could wait.

Lindsay made a deflating sound like he’d been holding his breath until he’d run into Dane. His head came up and the apologies started almost before his mouth had opened. “I’m sorry. I— Are you—?”

Dane cupped Lindsay’s face in his hands and kissed him. Words were rarely his strong point and suddenly having Lindsay there took away the handful he had at his disposal. There was no way he could be coherent about everything he felt, but Lindsay understood the language of his actions.

The kisses in return were hot and wanting. Lindsay pressed against him, arms winding around his neck like vines. Yes, Lindsay understood.