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?”