FoM02 Trammel (6 page)

There was nothing lazy or gentle about the way he fucked, long, hard thrusts that shuddered through Lindsay’s body, filling him up again and again. Every push sent sparks of heat and need through Lindsay, until he was writhing and coming all over his belly.

Dane rumbled in his ear, sounding sated, except that he hadn’t come yet. He rolled them over so that he was on his back with Lindsay cuddled against his chest.

Lindsay rose up enough that he could kiss Dane on the mouth. “What do you want?”

“You. Want to look at you.” Dane pushed Lindsay’s hair back with both hands, tucking it behind his ears. “Want to watch you make me come.”

That made Lindsay smile. Knowing he could give what Dane needed was one of the highlights of Lindsay’s life. He kissed Dane once more, then sat up and started to move. Dane’s low purrs turned into

shameless gasps and moans. He grabbed Lindsay’s hips, but didn’t use his grip to move him, just held on as he rocked under Lindsay and shuddered every time Lindsay took him in.

Making Dane come was almost as good as coming himself. Lindsay clenched around him and bent to bite under Dane’s chin. Dane let his head fall back, baring his throat, and his hands fell to his sides. When he came, Dane was all his, crying out his name shamelessly. Lindsay rode him until he stilled and kissed him on the mouth.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Lindsay murmured.

“Me too.” Dane was a little breathless, but he smiled and rolled them over again so that he could look down at Lindsay. “Hate to leave you to manage all that sexual tension on your own,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Lindsay opened his mouth to deny it, but he knew it was useless. Dane could smell it on him. “It’s...

It’s nothing. I couldn’t do anything about it even if I wanted to. He’s fragile.”

“And you weren’t?” Dane’s voice was uncharacteristically tender. He leaned down and kissed Lindsay. “Nothing is going to change you being mine, though, little bunny. No one. Whatever you do or don’t do.”

That eased a tension in Lindsay he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sighed and tucked his head down onto Dane’s shoulder. “Thank you. But I don’t think it will matter. He’s...”

Some of what Lindsay had seen in the gymnasium came back to him, that onslaught of imagery he hadn’t been able to decipher. The flashes were more comprehensible now that they weren’t all on top of each other. A fire, a truck exploding, a woman burned and dying.

“I think Noah stayed with her. Whoever she is. He wanted to die and he hates his magic because that’s what saved him.”

That’s what saved him
. The words coming out of Lindsay’s mouth sparked a crushing surge of memory, and if he hadn’t been able to cling to a shred of awareness that the memories weren’t his, he would have been sick with horror. Only his discipline kept him in touch with himself. He could feel Noah burning, and the more horrific pain of knowing that the woman in his arms was dead. The fire was welcome. Death was better than this.

Lindsay sucked in cool air the way Noah had drawn in a searing breath and surrendered. That last breath should have killed Noah, but instead, the fire of his magic woke, with nothing left to hold it back, and assimilated the inferno around him that still fed on a nearby sea of fuel. As Noah fell into the merciful dark of unconsciousness, his fire fell down with him, and was extinguished.

“Lindsay.” Dane’s gentle voice brought Lindsay back to reality. His eyes were still open, the room was lit. The memory had been so strong that he had been seeing through Noah’s eyes.

“He’s damaged.” Lindsay finished the sentence he had let fall short before. It didn’t stop him from being drawn to Noah in the least. Knowing Noah’s pain made him want to be closer to Noah, to give something—anything—to ease it a little.

Dane shifted to lie on his side, sheltering Lindsay against him and kissing his hair. “People heal. If that happens, and you want him and he wants you... If it’s good for you, it’s good for me. Doesn’t change anything between us. Makes me happy, knowing you’re happy.”

It wouldn’t be a concern any time soon, if the way Noah’s mind had felt today was any indication. But Dane’s understanding and reassurance soothed the last of Lindsay’s discomfort at being attracted in the first place. He snuggled up against Dane and closed his eyes, basking in how lucky he was to have Dane here, whole and well.

“I’m happy now.”

“So’m I. I’m a limited man. Nice to have something that’s no one’s business but mine.” Dane sighed into his hair.

“Definitely yours.” Everything had changed for Lindsay since Dane had come into his life. He only hoped he could make that kind of difference for Noah too. “I don’t want to screw up what’s mine. I can feel him churning in the back of my mind. I can’t fuck this up, Dane.”

“I felt like that with you,” Dane said. His fingertips tracing the line of Lindsay’s spine were soothing.

“You’re not necessarily the one in charge, though. Let your magic work. Sometimes, that’s all you need to do. Listen to it. I listened to mine.” He growled softly and nipped at Lindsay’s ear. “It showed me the way to you. You were mine from that moment, when I fought Jonas for you and dug you out of that old dumpster. Before Cyrus gave you to me, you were mine. Being pissed at him just kept me from knowing it for a while.”

Warmth blossomed in Lindsay’s chest, hearing that. “I’ll listen.”

“Anything you need, though, ask.” Dane kissed his temple. “Anything. I’m at your service.” They were naked and marked with the stains of sex and sweat, but there was something formal lurking in Dane’s words, and he held Lindsay a little tighter.

“Thank you.”

Lindsay was beginning to understand, without knowing how, what that tone meant. He could sense it under his skin. He’d heard it when Noah spoke to Cyrus. He’d felt it when he spoke to the barre and it fell into his hand.

Something was shifting, like Cyrus had picked up a weight and moved it from one pan of a scale to the other. Whatever it was, it was already done. Lindsay closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to Dane’s shoulder. The pressure this deep in the world of magic made it hard to breathe sometimes.

They had a date planned for a few days from now. It would be a welcome escape to the surface of things. Time to breathe.

Chapter Three

Whomever Cyrus was waiting for, Lindsay wanted to thank her. The few months since Cyrus moved them to Atlantic City had been a revelation—
this
was how life was supposed to be. Safe, and comfortable.

For the first time in his life, he felt like everyone else. The irony that he’d only gotten to this point by failing to be “cured” of his magic didn’t escape him.

Their first date had come out of the blue. Lindsay was sitting across the table from Dane at a lovely French restaurant, trying to decide between the scallops and the salmon, before he grasped that this wasn’t part of his training. Dane didn’t laugh at him—well, not much. Lindsay had been too smitten with the entire notion to be even a bit offended.

Tonight, they were off to a classic burlesque revue. He’d been reassured that real burlesque wasn’t all strippers and feathers. Lindsay was sure Dane would get a great deal out of feathers and fishnets and flashing breasts, but he wouldn’t be getting anything out of Lindsay later if Lindsay had to sit through
that
.

Dane hadn’t disappointed him yet. Not once. Lindsay looked up as they were led to their seats and found luminous feral eyes on him. Always. The smile Dane gave him felt like a kiss. Lindsay had no idea how to be this happy. He was making it up as he went along, guided by Dane’s good example.

The lights in the hall dimmed, and they were completely anonymous in the crowd, just another couple waiting to see the show. No one looked twice at them. Locals never came to these shows and tourists were more self-absorbed than most people. Even without an illusion to hide them—Lindsay couldn’t bear to use one and Dane never asked him to—they were as safe as they ever were.

In the dark, Dane slid his arm around Lindsay and pulled his chair close. Safe and together. Lindsay let his head rest on Dane’s shoulder as the stage lights came up.

The opening act was a comedian with bushy hair and a penchant for jokes that hinged on a knowledge of popular culture Lindsay didn’t have. He turned his attention to watching other people’s reactions to the humor instead, and found himself fascinated by the way some of them were only pretending to be amused.

The tightness at the corners of their mouths and the shift of their eyes told him it wasn’t real. They laughed along with everyone else, but it was as much an illusion as Lindsay’s magic.

Before the comedian had quite cleared the stage, a fog started creeping into Lindsay’s mind. He pushed it back to keep from losing himself to his magic. He hadn’t had trouble holding Noah’s mind before, but nightmarish flashes slipped in now, threatening to overwhelm him.

When he reached for Noah to check on him, fear and rage and the taste of someone else’s magic on Noah’s mind filled Lindsay up until he could hardly breathe.

“Something’s
wrong
.” They couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Lindsay’s heart was racing, and not just from Noah’s distress. He’d left Noah alone and something—someone—was hurting him. “We have to go. It’s Noah.”

Dane didn’t ask any questions, much to Lindsay’s relief. “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine until we get there,” he said quietly. “Breathe.” He led Lindsay between tables to the aisle. “Now you know how I felt in Mexico.”

In Mexico, Lindsay had gotten himself in trouble by leaving Dane when they were being hunted.

Noah was nothing but obedient and as vulnerable as a human now that Lindsay held his magic. There was no reason for anyone to hurt him except that he was Lindsay’s.

Lindsay couldn’t keep Noah from defending himself any longer. He could feel Noah scrabbling frantically for magic that wasn’t there, trapped in the illusion Lindsay had woven to keep him safe.

Clutching at Dane’s arm, Lindsay released the illusion that held Noah’s magic at bay. “He’s not okay. I have to be there
now
.”

Night was coming down on the salt marsh behind the duplex where Cyrus had made his home. The house was set at the far end of a curving cul-de-sac, and the cheap fence put up by the builders had long-since rotted, listed, and eventually crumpled into the tall grass and sodden earth. Noah had heard Vivian mention the sad state of it to Cyrus once. Noah couldn’t hear the answer that followed, but the ancient mage’s tone had been tetchy and querulous enough that Noah could guess that no one would be mending the fence any time soon.

He didn’t want it up—he liked looking out into the gray-green distance and letting his thoughts get lost. Lindsay was gone, but his magic remained. Noah could tell, when he failed to light one cigarette after another and each time had to resort to the only plastic souvenir lighter he’d been able to find buried among his dirty jeans. He had to do laundry. And he had to stop losing his lighters. As soon as his magic was his again, they’d be raining from every pocket and fold of his belongings for days, he just knew it.

Missing his power wasn’t much of a loss. It felt like he’d returned to normalcy, wrapped in the cocoon of Lindsay’s illusion. He could have struggled against it, but he didn’t want to lose his newfound comfort. Every time his mind rose up as if to question the reality he saw, he made it soft, like he had learned to do when Rose was first mastering her magic. His sister would have been furious with him for letting someone walk around in his head, but it was everything Noah needed right now. Only a lack of familiarity kept him from knocking at Lindsay’s door at night and begging him to keep the rest of reality away for a little while. Just long enough for sleep to come.

In the meantime, Noah turned to the bottle. One bottle after another. They were all his friends. He opened another and filled his flask first before taking a drink. Before, he’d been drinking 151-proof grain alcohol. Now, it was scotch, and not the cheap stuff. Noah told himself that was progress and gave himself a drink as a reward. It brought him the numbness he was craving, though his sleep was still terrible and waking brought the fresh hell of a hangover every day. The dry heaves and screaming headache kept his mind off his troubles, though.

If Noah had known Lindsay better, he might have brought himself to ask for help. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Dane had gone out on Cyrus’s business but his presence lingered. The last thing Noah wanted was to provoke the big creature, and if he came uninvited to Dane’s den, whether Dane was in the house or not, Dane would know it.

Now that Dane was back, Noah had no intention of asking for more of Lindsay than he’d already been given. Ferals had their own ways and Dane was infamously territorial. Touchingly, Abram had been almost as concerned that the terrible manners of the mundane world would lead Noah to a sticky end at Dane’s claws as he had been concerned that Noah would embarrass the family in front of Cyrus and Vivian.

It was comforting, in its way—its backward way, like not being able to use his magic—that Lindsay was bound to the feral. Noah hadn’t known how being given to someone like Lindsay would affect him, whether he’d be troubled and conflicted by Lindsay’s beauty and fragility. There was nothing fragile about Lindsay’s magic, and with Dane in the picture, Lindsay’s appearance and magnetism became irrelevant.

Cyrus wasn’t as capricious as he seemed.

In spite of how haphazard life here could be, Noah was starting to relax. Maybe starting to heal. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the steps. As much as he didn’t want to heal, as if Elle could never truly be gone as long as Noah carried the wound of her absence, it was hard to like the man he was when he was steeped in grief and mad with self-loathing. He was going to die or live, Rose had said sagely. Life meant healing. It didn’t allow a wound to gape. Noah could have his scars, but not the wounds.

“They left you home alone?” Noah hadn’t paid attention to the back door opening, but he couldn’t ignore the sultry voice.

“Hardly alone,” he pointed out. “Unless I’m hearing voices now?”