Текст книги "Tatterdemalion "

Автор книги: Anah Crow

Соавторы: Dianne Fox
сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“You need to look after yourself,” Dane said. “Make sure anyone who sees you sees someone else, or

no one at all. How is up to you.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened as he nodded. “I’ll try.” He stood up and tried to get a sense of how many

people there were. But that would change, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t target everyone individually, because

some people would leave the park and some new people would arrive. Eventually, he and Dane would

leave the park too.

Could he send it out like a wave? Maybe. Should he change his features? Or try to look like someone

specific? No, maybe he should just add a sense that he was forgettable, that he looked like no one in

particular. He took a deep breath and pushed his magic out in a circle around himself, wider and wider.

The further he pushed, the harder it got. His head hurt so much, like someone was squeezing his skull

around his brain. Lindsay swallowed hard, trying to hold on. Underneath the pain, there were voices,

images crowding his mind, but then they faded away.

It wasn’t just the voices that were fading. Lindsay gave a whimper as his vision tunneled, blackness

seeping in from the edges.

Everything was perfect right up until Lindsay collapsed with a whimper, slumping as Dane reached

for him. It was so hard to tell the difference between Lindsay’s usual unrelenting distress and something

Dane needed to worry about. Dane caught Lindsay against him and first checked to make sure he was still

breathing.

Poor little bunny. Dane could tell that the little mage felt safe with him, trusted him, for some reason

Dane couldn’t fathom, and Dane had walked him right into this particular disaster. Feeling guilty was

damned inconvenient. He sighed and pulled Lindsay into his lap, resting Lindsay’s head against his

shoulder as though Lindsay had fallen asleep, and snuffled in his hair. Lindsay seemed healthy enough and

his pulse under Dane’s fingers was strong, but the smells of fear and despair were heavy in his hair and on his skin.

www.samhainpublishing.com

37

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Home. Dane picked Lindsay up easily, gathering the gangly body up in both arms, and made for the

nearest street. A cab stopped for him quite promptly and the cabbie hopped out as Dane was trying to open

the door with Lindsay in his arms. Under his navy turban, the man’s dark face was drawn with concern.

“You need the hospital?” he asked as he opened the door. “He sick?”

“No.” Dane stepped in without letting Lindsay go. “But thanks. He’s got epilepsy. Seizures. He’ll be

fine after a rest.”

The cabbie frowned as he processed this, then he nodded. “Yes, yes. Right. He’s sick in the car, it’s

fifty dollars extra.” He scurried around to the driver’s side and hopped in. “No hard feelings. Just hard to clean.”

“Not a problem.” Dane settled Lindsay’s head against his shoulder. “He won’t be, though.” Lindsay

looked like he was sleeping, except for the twist of pain on his face.

The driver swung out into traffic. “Where to, then?”

“West 129th at Amsterdam.” Dane looked up briefly. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” He settled in the

seat, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to Cyrus if Lindsay didn’t wake up.

Getting back to the house was easy enough. Dane took the back stairs up and brought Lindsay to bed.

He laid Lindsay down and took off his boots and coat. “Come on, little bunny,” he said, stroking Lindsay’s

face.

He really didn’t want to have to tell Cyrus about this. He tucked Lindsay in and took a moment

longer, stalling and hoping Lindsay would wake. He wet a washcloth in the bathroom and sat on the bed.

“Lindsay,” he murmured, sponging Lindsay’s forehead and cheeks. “Wake up for me. This is enough.

Don’t make me call the healer.” Now, he was worried. He patted Lindsay’s cheek firmly this time, even as

he resigned himself to needing the healer.

Unlike when he was sleeping, Lindsay woke slowly, dragging himself out of unconsciousness. “No

doctors,” he rasped.

“There you are.” Dane was shocked at how relieved he was. “You sound like you need one.” He kept

petting Lindsay, trying to soothe him. “Or a drink.”

“Head hurts,” Lindsay whispered, barely breathing the words out. He closed his eyes again.

“I’ll get you something. I may need to get you the healer—not a doctor. I promise.” He got up slowly,

so as not to rock the bed.

“Why does it hurt?” Lindsay asked, not opening his eyes.

“I don’t know why it hurts. Just don’t move.” Dane knew his fear came through in his voice, but he

didn’t care. “I’ll get you someone. I’ll be right back.”

Cyrus was going to kill him. Dane took the stairs two at a time up to Cyrus’s rooms. He’d never failed

like this before. Things that could hurt him never frightened him. Since he was a child, he’d avoided being responsible for anything small and fragile enough to die because he’d made a mistake. He’d never been

38

www.samhainpublishing.com

Tatterdemalion

given another person to care for like this, either. Taking responsibility for Lindsay had been against both his will and his better judgment.

The door was already opening as he reached the hall and Cyrus peered out, his expression dire.

“What has gone wrong?”

Dane slid to a halt. “Something’s wrong with his magic. He collapsed and, when he woke up, he was

in pain. It was fine at first.”

“I’ll call Mona.” Cyrus scowled at Dane. “What did you do to him? She will want to know.”

“Nothing.” Dane felt a fraction of his age, and huge and awkward and ridiculous. “I asked him to do

small things. It worked the first two times, but he collapsed when I asked him to do something more. He

was unconscious for the ride home and now he’s awake and in pain.”

“Go watch him.” Cyrus glared at Dane. “Perhaps you won’t have to look after him, after all.” The

door slammed and Dane was left in the hallway, shut out.

He wanted to punch something. Punching things was what he was good at, beating things, fighting,

but not caring for things. He wanted to snarl at Cyrus to put him back where he belonged. He kept his

hands clenched at his sides as he stalked downstairs.

He was calm, though, when he came back into Lindsay’s room. “You okay?” he murmured, closing

the door behind him. The anger had faded to a background crackle behind the worry for his… His. Dane

was sorrier than ever for it now, for Lindsay’s sake.

Lindsay opened his eyes and relaxed visibly when he saw Dane. “I’m all right,” he said, but he was

still whispering and his eyes slipped shut.

“I’ll get that cloth cold for you again.” Dane hardly knew what to do. “Cyrus is calling Mona. She’s

not a doctor. She’s a grumpy old lady who lives over a pizza parlor.” He picked up the cloth. “I’m sorry if I did this to you.” He petted Lindsay’s hair back from his face, as though that would do anything.

Lindsay’s brow wrinkled. “You didn’t hurt me.” The firmness that came through in his faint voice

made Dane feel worse, in a way.

“Okay. Stay right there.” Dane took the cloth and went to freshen it up.

He filled up the whole bathroom, it seemed, all huge shoulders and clumsy feet. He wasn’t made to be

indoors. The face in the mirror wasn’t even human. His hands, when he didn’t pay attention to them, like

now, were curled and heavy and tipped with black claws. He forced the claws to shift into something that

looked like human nails so he wouldn’t tear the cloth up while wringing it out.

Back in the bedroom, Lindsay lay in the bed looking as fragile as he had the first night. Dane came

over and laid the cold cloth on his forehead. “Mona will be here when she can be. Sorry it’s not sooner.”

Lindsay tilted his head, seeking out the touch, shivering. “Cold,” he whispered.

www.samhainpublishing.com

39

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

He smelled distressed, still. It was the same sick smell that had clung to his skin after the Institute. His skin was icy to Dane’s touch, in spite of the blankets piled up on him. The fire was hot in the hearth, so that wasn’t the problem. The air in the room was stifling.

Dane gave up and lay on the side of the bed, curling himself around Lindsay. It was all he knew how

to do at this point, to keep his frail charge warm. He sighed against Lindsay’s hair, wrapping one arm over Lindsay’s body. “She’ll be here soon,” he promised, even though he didn’t know it for certain. Cyrus

wouldn’t let them down.

Lindsay curled closer, pressing up against Dane as he always did. “Thank you.”

“Don’t talk.” Dane stroked Lindsay’s cheek, tucking his head down so his own cheek pressed against

the top of Lindsay’s head. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Lindsay ignored Dane’s instructions, this time. “Did you know?”

There wasn’t any suspicion in the little voice, in spite of the question, but Dane couldn’t help being a

bit offended. “No. Hush.” All Dane wanted was for the little mage to stop smelling like he was so ill, to stop shivering.

“Not your fault,” Lindsay said, sounding almost imperious. He relaxed by degrees, his shivers

slowing.

Dane put his fingers over Lindsay’s mouth to hush him up. He needed to be quiet, and to rest. Lindsay

sucked in a breath, his eyes opening wide, but there wasn’t any pain in the noise. Dane moved his hand

enough to cup Lindsay’s cheek, but he left his thumb on Lindsay’s lips to keep him from talking. Lindsay

closed his eyes again, tilting his head into Dane’s hand. Dane’s guilt wasn’t Lindsay’s problem. What was

Lindsay’s problem was that Lindsay was ridiculously stubborn at the worst times. For someone so small,

such a thing could do far more harm than good.

“Good,” Dane murmured. That was better. Dane sighed and relaxed against Lindsay, waiting for the

healer to come. He wanted to do more, but didn’t remember how, if he’d ever known.

Finally, Lindsay drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t an easy sleep—he was still shivering and his face was

pinched with pain—but it was sleep and not the unnatural unconsciousness that had dragged him under in the park.

“Here.” The door swung open, startling Dane. He’d been too busy listening to Lindsay’s breath and

heartbeat to push his senses outward. “Same one.” The voice was Cyrus and the strange three-legged gait

was Mona with her cane. The realization came too late to stop Dane from growling as he lifted his head and

pulled Lindsay closer to protect him.

The movement and the growl woke Lindsay. He whimpered, pained and fearful, though not as

frightened as he might have been if Dane hadn’t been curled over him, protecting Lindsay with his own

40

www.samhainpublishing.com

Tatterdemalion

body. Like on the subway, Dane was a huge, warm wall between Lindsay and the rest of the world, keeping

him safe.

“Go on,” Cyrus snapped. He waved Dane off and Dane let go slowly, rolling to his feet. Lindsay was

rigid with uncertainty, but under it was a spike of anger at the way Cyrus spoke to Dane, like he was

speaking to a dog. None of this was Dane’s fault. Dane was good to him.

“Let me see what’s broken.” Mona was an elderly Italian woman dressed in a shapeless black dress

and thick boots. Her silvery hair was swept back from her face in a tight bun. “You were fine when I left

you.” She leaned her cane on the bedside table and bent over Lindsay.

Lindsay felt cold all over again, left alone on the bed. He blinked slowly at Mona, trying to focus

through the ache in his head, trying to remember when she had seen him last. He didn’t recognize her—at

least, he didn’t think so.

She put one hand on his forehead and the other hand on his chest, tilting her head like she was

listening. “Not much wrong with the body,” she said after a while. “Something else is wrong.” She

frowned. “A great shock to the body, but not from the body.” Her hand on Lindsay’s face was soft and

warm. “Whatever it is, you must avoid it. I cannot heal this well. Sleep, eat, stay warm. The worst is past.”

“What does that mean?” Lindsay asked. Why couldn’t she fix it? What was wrong with him?

“It means something I can’t tell you.” Mona pushed Lindsay’s hair back to touch the scars at his neck

and then picked up his hands, ignoring the way he flinched at her touches. “It could be this. You had a great magic on you. I felt it when I healed you, drawing mine.” She looked over at Cyrus. “I know someone who

would know the answer.”

Cyrus didn’t look too pleased. “So do I. We will see to it. Thank you.”

When Mona finally released Lindsay’s wrists, he tucked them under himself so she couldn’t get to

them anymore. He scrunched his shoulders up, hiding the scars on his collarbone, and watched Cyrus and

Mona, trying to figure out what was going on.

He didn’t like this, any of it. He was sick and hurt and he didn’t know why, and they didn’t seem to

know either, and it all had something to do with his damn magic. He’d known it was nothing but trouble.

“What you did to cause this, don’t do it again.” Mona shook a finger at Lindsay, and he flinched. He

wouldn’t be doing it again, Mona didn’t have to worry about that. He had no intention of using his magic if it was going to make him sick like this.

Mona took back her cane, leaning heavily on it as she left Lindsay’s bedside.

Cyrus shook his head slowly. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said to Dane. Lindsay wondered if Dane

was going to leave too. “I have to speak to Vivian first.” He offered Mona his arm and helped her out the

door.

www.samhainpublishing.com

41

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Dane stood there, his expression inscrutable as always. Maybe another animal could have gauged his

mood. He didn’t move until Cyrus was out of the room. He tilted his head thoughtfully as his attention

shifted to Lindsay.

“What happens now?” Lindsay asked quietly. If Dane wasn’t leaving, maybe he could tell Lindsay

what was going on.

“They tell us.” Dane came to the bed and ran a hand over Lindsay’s hair. “It’s not your fault. Relax.”

Lindsay shook his head, his cheek rubbing against the pillow. “She said it was. And he’s angry.”

“He’s always like that when the world doesn’t conform to his plans. It’s not you.” Dane watched

Lindsay for a moment and lay back down where he had been. “Go to sleep, little bunny. Cyrus is angry at

bigger things than you or me.”

Lindsay knew he was being presumptuous, but that didn’t stop him from curling himself right up next

to Dane, where it was warmest. He closed his eyes. “He’s not going to make me leave?”

“No.” Dane tugged Lindsay against his chest with a grumble. “Too amusing to watch me try to take

care of you.”

Lindsay sighed softly. His headache was receding, leaving him tired but in less pain. Dane was warm

and big. Safe. Familiar. Lindsay liked being so close to him, liked the warmth and the security and the

contact. Dane was attractive too, and that certainly didn’t hurt matters. Lindsay fell asleep almost happy, in spite of his pain and his failure.

Dane was half-dozing—no sense wasting rest time—when the door to Lindsay’s room opened. He

could smell Vivian before he saw her, and he caught the scent of Earl Grey tea even stronger than her

perfume. He swallowed his growl at the intrusion and resisted the urge to curl himself around the little body pressed up against his.

“How is he?” Vivian tiptoed into the room. Dane could hear cups singing ever so softly against their

saucers.

Dane didn’t answer, but nuzzled in Lindsay’s hair and breathed in. Lindsay was better, but not well,

and he was limp and heavy with sleep. Usually, he slept lightly, like he was afraid of never waking up

again, startling at every little sound. Dane moved carefully to unwrap himself from Lindsay. He never

stirred, and that made Dane feel ill.

Once he was on his feet and across the room, Dane murmured, “Shit, that’s how. Breathing, but I

don’t know what the fuck happened to him. I should have thought more about what I asked him to do.”

“Not your fault,” Vivian said softly. She knew as well as he did what a light sleeper Lindsay was—

Dane was forever growling at her for clicking around in her heels on the floor above while Lindsay was

resting. “You know you have to get him ready as soon as possible. Tea?”

“No.” Dane crouched to build the fire up again. Lindsay’s skin was still clammy.

42

www.samhainpublishing.com

Tatterdemalion

“I’ll have some, then.” She poured herself a cup and Dane heard her footfalls moving across the room

to the bed.

Vivian was one of the few people in the world who didn’t cringe or even change scent in the face of

Dane’s presence, much less his ill temper. Cyrus was another.

He let his thoughts sink back under the surface of the present that was full of enough sensory

information to keep his mind out of trouble. He didn’t bother with the tools for building up the fire. He

used his bare hands and watched the blisters fade as fast as they swelled when he got too close to the

flames.

When he straightened and turned around, Vivian was sitting in the large chair by Lindsay’s bed,

watching him. “He’ll be fine, you know.”

“I know.” Dane couldn’t make things better by sitting and staring, and he couldn’t go out, so he

passed the bed to stand at the window. Outside, the dark was gathering and snow was dusting the ground.

He wanted out, out of the stifling heat and the guilt, to roam his city and forget how bad he was at all of this.

“I understand you got the new girl settled in,” Vivian said, offering up the thread of conversation.

Dane wasn’t going anywhere, so he took it. She had that lilt in her voice that said she knew what he’d been up to already, but they could pretend otherwise. Cyrus was never happy with anyone being too social. Dane

was damn hard-pressed to feel guilty about it. Cyrus hadn’t said a thing about Dane keeping his hands off

Kristan.

“Figured you wouldn’t put her through all her paces. Just trying to be thorough. She going to be trouble?” The cold was shimmering off the glass, reaching out to touch Dane’s skin.

“She’s crude and crass, but pragmatic. And she understands when she’s got to be working and when

she can screw around. Literally or otherwise.” Vivian sounded satisfied. “Watch yourself around her. She’s

got that pheromone thing going on. She’s mean too. Got a cruel streak a mile wide, but it’s a good thing. I kind of like her, actually.”

“You’re a mean woman yourself,” Dane pointed out. “You’re just glad to have someone around who

makes you look sweet.” He grinned at the face she made.

“Screw you, Dane,” she said without heat.

“Are you volunteering? Because I could use something to kill the time.” Dane leered at her over his

shoulder. It was their game; it hadn’t had much meaning in years. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t have taken her

up on it if she’d ever meant it, nor that she would have refused him if he’d been serious.

Vivian rolled her eyes at him, though affectionately. “Not me. I’m supposed to be watching the boy so

you can stretch your legs. Or something. Kristan might take you up on it, the way she was complaining

about not getting to go out trawling the bars.”

www.samhainpublishing.com

43

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

“Cyrus sent you?” Dane turned around, feeling hopeful at the idea that he wasn’t being punished for

failing to take care of the boy.

“You can’t sit in here and sulk all night.” That wasn’t an answer. “There’s beer in the fridge. Steak.”

Vivian sipped her tea and smiled. “I promise not to tell if you don’t cook it.”

It was Dane’s turn to roll his eyes. “And if I’m not hungry?”

“Then you’ll enjoy my company for the evening.” She looked awfully sweet and harmless for

someone so irritating. “You won’t throw me out, because it would wake your little charge.” As if to make

her point, Lindsay shifted restlessly, his expression twisting into a discontented pout. “I’ll take good care of him, Dane.”

Dane wanted to go over and pull the blankets up that Lindsay had disarranged and to smooth back the

hair that was clinging to his cheek, just to tidy him up. He hated things being out of order. Doing it would only amuse Vivian more. There had been a time, long ago, when things had been more equal between

them. “See that you do,” he murmured.

Screw pride. Dane took the few steps to the bed. Pointedly ignoring Vivian, he stroked Lindsay’s hair

back and straightened the blankets. The unhappy expression faded from Lindsay’s face as Dane sorted

things out, and Lindsay sighed heavily, relaxing into a deeper sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t leave.

“Dane,” Vivian said firmly. If he didn’t leave, she might have something to say to Cyrus about it, and

he might give Lindsay to someone else, Vivian or Kristan, to care for. Dane’s task didn’t involve

attachment—attachment could hinder Lindsay’s development and Dane’s objectivity. As much as Dane

didn’t want the task, the idea of giving it up was anathema. He wasn’t going to think on that, either.

“Going.” He left without looking back, without saying goodbye.

Downstairs, he went to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers. The streets were calling, but he

needed to stay here to watch over the house. There were bare footfalls on the stairs and he turned to see a redhead coming down. Kristan. She was dressed in an over-sized T-shirt and nothing else that he could see,

and she smelled like pure bliss.

Dane knew he had to be careful around her. Viv was right. The girl had crafty written all over her.

Along with luscious. They understood each other well enough. Things were looking up.

“Is one of those for me?” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and leaned there, looking him over.

Dane didn’t have to breathe to know she was interested. He could see it in the widening of her eyes and the tilt of her hips. She was fearless, unmoved by his appearance, and it was refreshing.

“Sure. Got something for me in return?” Dane grinned, letting his gaze wander over her body.

“See anything you like?” Kristan shifted to pose with one hand on her hip, tossing back her long curls.

“Oh, everything.” Dane opened a beer and took a drink. “What can I have?” He already knew the

answer to that—he’d had most of it already—but it was fun to ask. She smelled so good that it was hard to

stay leaning against the fridge looking at her.

44

www.samhainpublishing.com

Tatterdemalion

“Oh, everything.” She laughed at him. “But you bring the beer.” With that, she headed back up the

stairs.

Dane followed, purring at the sight of her bare legs and the pale curves of her ass. He could already

tell he didn’t need to worry about this one—no concerns, no consequences. He loved it when things were

simple. He needed simple right now, just for a few hours.

www.samhainpublishing.com

45

Chapter Four

When Lindsay woke, he was alone and it was morning. He wanted to be sad because Dane wasn’t

there, but his head was hurting so little that he could hardly complain. He was warm, covered in heaps of

blankets, and the fire was still burning in the hearth. When Lindsay pressed his cheek to his pillow, he

could smell Dane there, and a long, glossy black hair scrolled across the white cotton like a signature

scrawled on fine paper.

No, Lindsay had nothing to complain about except, perhaps, that he had failed yesterday. He tried to

put it out of his head, with some success. Dane had taken such tender care of him last night, it made

Lindsay feel as though his failure wasn’t the end of the world. Lindsay sat up slowly and his head throbbed.

No one took care of him like that.

There was a silver tray by his bed, with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on it. Lindsay imagined

that, among people who were generally kind and did things like that, throwing someone out for being

broken wasn’t going to be an option. He hoped. He dressed to go downstairs, ready to do something with

his day. Surely he could still do small things. He’d try, at least. If he couldn’t be useful, he would try to be social instead.

The living room in Cyrus’s house was far more comfortable than the one in Lindsay’s parents’ home.

Like the rest of the house, it was actually used for living in, rather than for display. Someone had lit a fire earlier in the morning, so the room was warm and the chair closest to the fireplace was even warmer. It was Dane’s chair, the one he’d been sitting in before they’d gone out together so Lindsay could learn to use his magic. Before Lindsay had failed at learning.

The New York Times was on the coffee table. It had been so long since Lindsay had read it. He picked it up and, after a moment’s hesitation, climbed into Dane’s big chair, feeling like Goldilocks. Dane’s chair was definitely too big, but that made it just right. It even smelled like Dane, warm and musky and safe.

Lindsay subway-folded the paper, curled up and started to read.

He was halfway through the first section when a woman he’d never seen before came down the stairs

and into the room, her heels clattering on the hardwood before the carpet silenced them. She was a

beautiful redhead, if one were drawn to voluptuous women, dressed in a lilac robe that was barely done up

over her heavy breasts. Her wild red curls were in luxurious disarray, tumbling everywhere, and there were

bruises visible on the pale curve of her neck and on the inner swell of one breast.

Tatterdemalion

She stopped when she saw him, one hand on her hip, looking like something out of an old painting,

back when women’s curves had still been considered art.

“You must be Lindsay.” Her voice seemed sweet, but there was something in her that put Lindsay on

edge.

“Yes,” Lindsay said warily. He thought he’d heard her voice before, drifting through the house on the

curious air.

Her expression shifted to something that would have been maternal if she hadn’t been standing there

nearly naked, dressed to seduce. “I’m Kristan. I heard you had a bad day yesterday. I’m glad to see you

feeling better.” She headed toward the kitchen, tugging her robe closed over her breasts almost absently.

“Did anyone make coffee?”

Lindsay wasn’t sure how he felt about other people knowing he’d failed yesterday. He caught her

question belatedly and shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t get that far.” He returned his attention to the paper so he wouldn’t have to deal with the twisting in his chest while she was in the room. He couldn’t help glancing over at the top of it to make sure she was really leaving.

Kristan stopped in the doorway and tossed back her hair. The move made her robe slide aside to

reveal most of one curvy leg. “You’re not waiting for Dane, are you?” Her face was a study in concern.

“I’d hate to think he was being rude enough to leave you sitting here on my account. He can be such a

beast.” Her voice was light, softening her words.

Lindsay stared at her. Dane was sleeping with Kristan? He shifted in the chair, suddenly

uncomfortable. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not waiting for him.”

After the way Dane had curled up in bed with him, warm and solid and safe, Lindsay’s mind had

offered up dozens of fantasies. Fantasies that had Dane rolling Lindsay onto his back and stripping him

down, opening him up and pushing into him. Fantasies that had Lindsay slipping down the bed to lick and

suck at Dane’s cock. He knew from the musky way Dane smelled that Dane would taste good—so

deliciously, perfectly good—sliding over his tongue.

In the face of Kristan’s conquest, Lindsay pushed his fantasies aside, shoved them into the back of his

mind. It wasn’t as though he’d really expected to act on any of them after all. Right?

“Good.” She gave him a warm smile. The way she leaned against the doorframe could have been

taken out of an old movie. “I’d feel terrible if I got in the way. It’s sweet how he looks after you. He

grumbles about it, but you know how he is. Did you want some coffee while I’m getting mine?”

“No, thank you.” It was instinct to be polite, even now, when he was feeling crushed and uncertain.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“All right. I’m sure Dane will be down soon. Men.” Kristan rolled her eyes at Lindsay as she pushed

away from the doorframe. “You look like a nice boy. I bet you wouldn’t keep falling asleep on a girl. Time

and again.” She made a discontented noise as she disappeared into the kitchen.

www.samhainpublishing.com

47

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Time and again. More than just this morning, maybe. Lindsay had thought Dane…he…well,

obviously he’d been wrong. What did he know? He ducked his head, hair falling around his face as he

forced himself to focus on the newspaper. Dane could kick him out of the damn chair if he didn’t want

Lindsay to be there.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Cyrus turned away from the window as Dane shambled in. His

face was a mask of disapproval and his eyes flashed with anger.

“What?” Dane knew he was a mess, having just rolled out of Kristan’s bed, but that was rarely an

issue for Cyrus. He didn’t seem to give much of a damn about anything Dane did, so long as Dane did what

needed doing. Dane had long since outgrown the days when he’d wanted Cyrus to care one way or the

other. Lately, they only had a real difference of opinion when Dane insisted on trying to take care of him.

The wind sweeping in the window swirled around him, tugging his hair in all directions. “Yes, yes, I

know…” Cyrus waved a hand on the way over to the desk. Dane knew full well that wasn’t directed at him

and, given what glimpses he could catch from the corners of his eyes, he didn’t want to know what was

speaking. Some magics, he avoided like the plague.

“Jonas has come to the city,” Cyrus snapped. “And you’re off bedding one of my…”

Jonas was here—the idea sent a thrill of adrenaline spiking along Dane’s spine. “Didn’t see any harm

in it.” Dane picked up the computer he usually used on the way over to his chair. He glanced at Cyrus from

behind his tangled hair, gauging how angry the old mage was. “She’s a big girl. Keeps her from going out

after it.”

“And you.” There was anger and derision in Cyrus’s voice.

“You want me here to look after the boy,” Dane pointed out reasonably. Cyrus got amusingly snippy

when Dane’s sex life intersected with his awareness. He settled in his chair, eyes on the computer screen.

“There’s got to be something in it for me, if I’m going to babysit.” He didn’t intend to admit to Cyrus, now or ever, that he liked his time with Lindsay.