Текст книги "Trammel "

Автор книги: Anah Crow

Соавторы: Dianne Fox
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“You can’t punish them for Vivian’s mistake,” Dane said flatly. He let go of Lindsay to step in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. “And if you have a problem with what’s mine, take it up with me. But done is done. The girl should have known not to touch what wasn’t hers.”

“And I should punish Quinn’s son by leaving him in the hands of this one?” Cyrus nodded at Lindsay.

“The best should be done for the weakest, whenever possible. Neither of you seem to be able to grasp that.”

“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be angry at me for allowing Noah to defend himself.”

Lindsay felt sick inside that he’d left Noah alone to deal with whatever had happened to him. He held up both hands to forestall any response. “He’s mine. And I won’t leave him again.”

He didn’t wait for Cyrus or Dane to answer. He’d had enough. He needed to find Noah and to make sure he was all right.

Noah’s room was empty, but the shower in the hall bath was running. It wasn’t Kristan; the healer was still bustling about in her room. Lindsay knocked once and opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked.

“Noah?”

The air was thick with steam, making it hard to see, but Lindsay could tell that the charred clothes on the floor were Noah’s and, as he ventured in and closed the door behind him, so were the empty flask and sodden pack of cigarettes on the bathmat. The sliding door to the shower was slightly ajar and the spray was trickling down the wall to make an ever-widening puddle on the tile.

“Noah, it’s Lindsay,” he warned before he pushed the glass door open and stepped inside to find Noah huddled on the floor of the tub, face turned down into his knees as the water poured over him. Lindsay pulled the door closed and knelt beside him, putting a hand to the unburnt side of Noah’s head.

The water hit his bare skin, and Lindsay flinched and drew in a sharp breath. The water was turned all the way to hot. It didn’t seem to affect Noah, but Lindsay’s cool hand flared bright pink. He used his other hand to flick the water down to a more moderate temperature—not too cold—and shifted to let the spray cool him down again.

“I’m sorry I left you alone.”

Noah’s breathing was the ragged, uneven inhale and exhale of someone who’d cried until there was nothing left. Almost nothing left. He shifted to press his face into the crook of his arm, trying to stifle a sob.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say. He lifted his face but hid it in his hands, still. “I don’t...I don’t know how it happened. I would never...” His voice grew tight and he pulled his hands away. “I would never disrespect my wife.”

Goddamn Kristan. Noah looked ravaged. Tormented.

“It’s my fault.” Lindsay touched Noah’s cheek to make him meet his eyes. “I should have warned you about Kristan’s magic. She can be hard to resist, if you’re susceptible to it. And it’s my fault you hurt her. I gave you your magic back.”

It had been the wrong decision, but it had been Lindsay’s decision to make. He could see now that he should’ve put himself behind Noah’s eyes to see what was happening, first. In the moment, he’d been unable to think of anything but Noah, alone and scared and defenseless—exactly the way Lindsay had been for so long—and he’d reacted.

So many of the things Dane had said and done made more sense now.

Noah pulled away and scrubbed one hand over his face, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean... No, I did.

I meant to hurt her. I wanted her to stop. Then I wanted her to stop screaming. She wouldn’t stop. And I did it to her.” His voice broke and all he could do was shake his head like he could make it go away if he denied it enough.

“I’m sorry. I won’t leave you alone like that again.”

Lindsay had known how fragile Noah was, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Kristan would be a concern. He never would have touched Kristan or Ylli without Vivian’s permission. But Kristan... He had trespassed where she had once been with Dane, so of course she would help herself to what was his. He had

inadvertently set Noah up for this all that time ago, when he had been as new to Cyrus’s house as Noah was now.

He knelt up and offered Noah his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you dried off, and we’ll go upstairs. You need to get some rest.”

“I should be sorry.” Noah took Lindsay’s hand, but it was obvious his mind was far afield. “I should...for what I did to her. I should be worried. But I don’t feel anything.”

Noah was in shock. The faraway look in his eyes and everything about his behavior confirmed that for Lindsay.

He flicked off the water and stood, drawing Noah up with him. “Come on. Time to get dried off.

Kristan will be fine. There’s a healer with her now. I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t know why I wanted this.” Noah followed, clinging to Lindsay’s hand. “I didn’t. I didn’t want it anymore. I can feel it in me now. All the time. I used to feel her.”

Her. “Your wife?”

Lindsay regretted the question as soon as he’d asked it. He didn’t want to dredge up more painful memories, after what Noah had already gone through today. “I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

He grabbed a towel from the shelf and patted gently to dry the burnt skin on Noah’s neck. It was only then that he realized Noah was naked, but he set aside the awareness of Noah’s body to focus on more important things.

He handed Noah a second towel and kept himself busy drying Noah’s back and wrapping him up in one of the huge, soft robes hanging from hooks near the door. Vivian had likely bought them; she came and went like spring rainstorms, leaving puddles of domesticity as she passed through. Dane and Cyrus would live in a shed if Cyrus didn’t need to stay warm in his old age.

“You don’t have to do this.” Noah fastened the tie at his waist with an angry jerk. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry for doing this to you. None of it is your fault. You shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

That drew a bubble of laughter from Lindsay, quiet and quickly swallowed down. “Trust me, this is nothing compared to what Dane had to do for me. Come on upstairs and I’ll tell you a bedtime story about a broken mage and the army sent halfway around the world to hunt him.”

“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.

“It was my fault.” Noah’s words sounded like they came out reflexively.

“It always is.” Dane remembered that feeling now, as well.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dane could smell Noah’s temper fraying. All that fear and rage coming apart at the seams. He laid bacon in the pan and watched it sizzle, picking his words carefully so as not to provoke a similar response from Noah.

“No matter what really happened, it will feel like your fault. Doesn’t mean its true. Might be, sometimes, but my experience is that humans always feel that way. Makes it hard to know when it’s true.”

He looked over his shoulder and his animal sight could make Noah out as though he were lit from within, the way he was so full of magic and heat. Noah had his elbows on the table, head in his hands. The bacon cooked through halfway before he spoke again.

“I don’t want to think it’s not. In case I’m wrong,” he said at last.

“Noble sentiment.” Stupid, but noble. The two usually went together. Dane turned his attention back to his cooking.

“That’s a euphemism for stupid,” Noah muttered.

At least they were on the same page in that regard. “Well, I was trying to lean more on the positive side of the concept,” Dane said. “Giving you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome. And you think too much. Do less of it.”

“What?”

“Think less.” Dane shoved the bacon to the side of the pan and went back to the fridge for beer.

“Drinking less wouldn’t hurt, either, but do what you have to do.” Without a twinge of hypocrisy, he opened the beer and took a drink.

“How the hell am I supposed to think less?” Noah reached for the bottle on the table in front of him and sloshed more scotch into his mug. “Especially without drinking more.”

“Let other people do it for you.” Dane drained most of the beer at once and decided to grab a second before going back to the stove. Thinking ahead was a benefit and a curse of having a human mind again.

“You’re not with Lindsay for his betterment, that’s certain. Let him do it. You’d get more sleep.”

“Is that an official recommendation?” Noah snorted softly at that idea.

“If you want to stand on ceremony, yes.” Dane cracked half a dozen eggs into the pan and gave them a rough stir before he turned around. “If you want to stand on ceremony, I can tell him to give you seven impossible tasks to do for the next forty-nine years and one more. You trust him enough to let him keep your magic from you. Stop being ridiculous about asking for more. I bet you haven’t really slept since it happened.”

“No.”

“Well, cut it out.” Dane finished his first beer and left the bottle on the back of the sink so he could pull out two plates.

“I forget.” Noah sounded like he was younger than Lindsay. “And then it’s night.”

“So?” Belatedly, Dane thought of potatoes. Damn. Tomorrow. Vegetables weren’t his strong suit. He shoved the eggs around the pan and decided they were cooked.

“I’m not about to tread on your territory.”

Dane nearly dropped the pan. “What?” He managed to keep hold of it and started maneuvering portions out onto each plate. “I haven’t even been here.”

“You may not have been here, but...” Noah took another drink. “You are the threshold of your house.”

It was a phrase that sounded better in the original fae tongue, but Dane knew what Noah was trying to say. Lindsay shared a room with Dane, and Noah would be trespassing if he sought Lindsay out at night.

The Quinns had damnably good manners—and more sense than to go tromping into a feral den. Dane had forgotten what it was like to deal with people who knew the old ways, who knew what he was.

“That house includes you, so you’re welcome. Whether either of us likes it or not.” Dane grabbed knives and forks from the drawer and brought Noah’s plate to him first. “Eat.” He set the plate in front of Noah.

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” Noah said wearily.

Dane took a firm grip on his temper, collected his plate and his beer, and came back to the table. He put everything down carefully and took a seat across from Noah.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry right now.” Dane picked up his fork and pointed at Noah’s plate. “I’ve provided for you, so you can stop wondering whether or not you can come knocking on my door. Eat it, or I’ll bring back the first thing I find in the yard and you can have it raw.” The old ways were good for something once in a while.

Noah stared at him, heat flickering in his eyes.

“Keep your temper or you’ll wake Lindsay,” Dane warned. The threat of waking Lindsay was enough to settle Noah down, and that pleased Dane a great deal.

Noah picked up a piece of bacon and ate it with a definite air of defiance, which was a little amusing and a little endearing. “If I puke this back up, it’s still done,” he muttered.

“That’s fine with me.” Dane opened his beer and took a drink. Lindsay had been possessed of the same stubbornness in the face of the inevitable. Dane had a soft spot for that. “Aim for the floor.” As long as Noah ate what Dane provided for him, he’d be part of Dane’s family. The old ways didn’t say it had to stay down.

“As you will.”

Dane wasn’t surprised when that slice of bacon went down and was followed by another, and Noah picked up his fork to eat his eggs, cleaning his plate almost before Dane did. A man couldn’t run all that magic without wearing down his body. The alcohol was probably the only thing keeping Noah from being a skeleton. As it was, Dane could still see why Lindsay found him appealing.

When Noah cleared the table, Dane let him do it, watching without comment as Noah put the scotch bottle away before putting their plates in the sink. Good. It was nice to be right about things once in a while.

Noah was exactly what Dane had expected from one of the Quinns, except that he’d forgotten how traditional the old families could be. The Quinns went back long before Dane’s memory. It must have been

hell growing up dead-headed in that family. Made sense that Noah was expecting to be on the outside looking in.

Dane couldn’t imagine what it was like for someone from a traditional enclave to go through leaving the only world he knew and then suffer the loss of the one person who had wanted him the way he was.

There was a limit to how much losing and leaving a soul could take. A soul like Noah’s, with so much power to wield, could be a danger if broken. Dane had seen it before, and the aftermath.

Noah needed to discover that there was more than one person in the world who would be willing to have him as he was. Lindsay was deeply loyal and desperate to connect. Noah would repay every good thing Lindsay gave him and more. Under all their power, they were painfully human and barely grown ones at that.

Dane would be around for them, and they were smart enough to figure that out. If they didn’t know it yet, they’d catch on in the next fifty years or so. Maybe having a little family would be enough to keep both of them stable. Looking after what had the potential to be a small Armageddon—especially if the two of them went off the rails at the same time—was certainly going to keep Dane on the straight and narrow.

“You ready to go sleep?” he asked, once Noah had rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

“Sure.” That was reluctant.

“I mean sleep.” Dane finished his second beer and brought the bottle over to put it with the first. “You have to learn to let him give you what you need.”

All he got in response was a subtle shift in tension, and Noah looking away from him, out the window and into the dark. Dane frowned as he re-evaluated the situation, breathing in to test the air. This close, he could see the rigid line of Noah’s throat and the clench of his jaw, the narrowing of his luminous eyes. All that distress and the smell of guilt and betrayal added up to something Dane understood.

“Don’t blame yourself for wanting what keeps you safe,” Dane said, feeling the uncomfortable twinges of empathy in his chest again.

Reaching out, he petted the nape of Noah’s neck the way he’d first stroked Lindsay’s hair to calm him, the way he’d soothe an anxious animal, though petting Lindsay was all softness like petting a rabbit and Noah was all sinew and heat. Still, Noah’s head sank down and his neck curved under Dane’s palm, grudging acquiescence instead of begging for more. It had been a long time since Dane had seen a dragon, but he remembered them well.

“What’s between the two of you is between you,” he said, because it needed saying. “And not for me to decide or deny. It is what it is. If what’s mine is content, I’ve nothing to mend.”

“I don’t...” Noah began, but Dane gave him a little shake by the neck before letting him go.

“Hush. I’ve said what I mean.” Dragons were recalcitrant things. Dane nudged this one toward the hall. “Bed, now.”

Halfway up the stairs, Noah said, “I can sleep in my own bed, you know.”

“You’ll sleep on the couch.” There was a decent-sized one in Dane and Lindsay’s room. “I won’t have Lindsay worrying over you for nothing. He’ll tell you when to go back to your own bed. Don’t mention it again.” Dane wasn’t going through this every night until Noah was back in the habit of sleeping.

“Fine.” Noah stopped at the bedroom door, hands in the pockets of the robe, shoulders up around his ears with irritation. Dane wanted to laugh at him, but knew better than to make things worse.

“Go on.” Dane opened the door and waited, watching as Noah slunk over to the couch. The opening of the door woke Lindsay, as he’d thought it would. “Your boy can’t sleep,” Dane said by way of explanation.

“Oh.” Lindsay yawned and wriggled out of bed, gathering up a blanket and a pillow as he went.