He ran his thumb over Lindsay’s lower lip. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Lindsay seemed to accept that. He smiled and leaned up to steal another kiss. “I like what it always is. So.”

“Good to hear. Me too.” Dane knew it would take time—maybe years—for Lindsay to make sense of being loved. But not telling him now would only make it harder to explain later. He kissed Lindsay’s hair and snuggled down with him, pulling Lindsay back against his chest. “Stay with me a while?” He had to check on Cyrus soon, maybe Lindsay needed to check on Noah, but Dane wanted just a little longer.

Lindsay snuggled up to him with a contented sigh. “Yes, please.”

Perfect. Dane tucked his face down into the curve of Lindsay’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep, but he would rest, and that was what he needed.

Chapter Six

Noah came back to an empty room. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but when he realized that the most likely scenario was Dane emerging from hiding and coming to find Lindsay, he had his answer.

He was glad Lindsay hadn’t had to wait long.

The longer he was in Cyrus’s house, the more he learned to like both of them. They were as different as two people could get and obviously smitten with each other. Since Dane had accepted him, he’d been able to relax. It was good, and he was willing to do anything to keep it that way.

As for the unexpected outcome of napping with Lindsay, Noah was putting it down to being overcharged with his magic and too tired at the same time. They’d each forgotten who was next to them, and he couldn’t blame either of them for seeking comfort. Lindsay could be trusted with anything, even Noah’s mistakes, and Lindsay deserved whatever support Noah could give him. He belonged to Lindsay, scars and all.

Scotch and cigarettes in hand, Noah headed out back. There was enough light for him to get some work in before night fell, and he needed to be busy.

By the time the yard was filled with black shadows and gray evening, he had the stairs and rails on the porch. There wasn’t much in the way of a floor yet, but that would go in fast. He’d gone through the scotch and half a dozen beers and most of a pack of cigarettes, and he was tired. He wanted to be tired. He dragged himself into the house, taped a warning sign to the inside of the back door, and went to bed. There was no sense troubling Lindsay when he was too tired to have nightmares. He made it out of his sneakers and shirt before he crawled into bed and slept.

“Noah?” A soft voice drew him out of sleep. “You didn’t tell me you were going to bed this early.”

“Long day.” It must have been, if he’d forgotten to tell her he was going to bed. The bed shifted and he moved over to make room for her.

“Are you smoking again?” She sneezed. “Never mind. You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.” Noah knew he was dreaming, but he pushed the knowledge away. Elle snuggled into his arms and put her head on his shoulder so he could press his cheek against her soft, golden hair. He never got to have good dreams about her. It wasn’t fair. “I love you too.”

One dream would be enough. A good one. In his mind, Noah closed his eyes and held on to her. If he could have one good dream, he wouldn’t want to wake up from it.

“Noah.” Someone was shaking him. “Noah, wake up.” Elle sounded frightened. “I smell smoke.”

“Where?” He was always careful about grinding out his cigarettes, even splashing water into the ashtray before dumping it. “Are you sure?” When he opened his eyes, the room was full of fire and she was crying and tearing at his arms with her long nails.

“Get us out. Noah. Make it stop!” She choked on the smoke, and still, she was sobbing.

The flames were gnawing at the bed, the blankets were on fire. Noah found the window jammed when he went to open it. He turned to grab Elle, to pull her away from the fire, as her hair flared into flames. In the back of his head, some analytical voice asked him why he didn’t use his magic as he batted at the fire with his bare hands.

What magic? He tried to break the window but his burned hands only split and bled. Elle’s weight fell against him and she was silent now. The only sound he heard was his own voice, howling.

“Noah. Noah, wake up.”

Just like that, the fire was gone, and he was staring into the dark, sucking cool air into his unburned lungs.

Lindsay’s hand was icy on his forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you to sleep alone. Are you all right? We don’t have much time.”

All Noah could do was breathe and fight down the urge to be sick until his voice came back, at least enough of it for him to talk.

“What’s wrong?” He didn’t sound like himself. He was drenched in sweat, and his hands were shaking as he struggled to free himself from the covers.

“We know where Moore is. Vivian sent word.” Lindsay untangled him from the sheets with all the precision of someone folding an origami crane. “We’re going after that girl. Zoey.”

“Okay, good.” Noah tripped over his own shoes, barely righting himself before running into the dresser. All of him was shaking, his jaw clattered like a set of castanets. He managed to find his boots by the dresser and pulled them on. He didn’t have a shirt, but it would only be a hazard. So would his denim jacket. “I’ll be... I need to get my other coat.”

There was a long leather coat hanging in the closet, one he used to wear when they went... Noah pushed the memory of his wife out of his head and forced the jammed folding door of the closet to give up its resistance. When he turned around after pulling the coat on, Lindsay was right there behind him.

“Come here?” Lindsay said, holding one hand out. Noah shook his head. He couldn’t let Lindsay comfort him now. Still, he reached out and squeezed Lindsay’s hand, then let go so he wouldn’t cling.

“I can’t.” His voice was still raw, as though he’d been back in the fire for real. “I’m sorry...I would, but...I can’t.” He shook his head. “Do anything else.”

Lindsay nodded and touched Noah’s arm. “All right. Breathe. You’re going to be all right. I’m here if you need anything. Tell me when you’re ready.”

He couldn’t hide how wrecked he was from Lindsay. He wouldn’t have tried. It would only endanger everyone else. In the same vein, he had no right reaching for a drink.

“You’d think I could have one good dream about her.” He rifled through the top shelf of the closet to find his next carton of cigarettes. “One.” He tore at the packaging until it gave way and he could pull out a pack. “But no.”

He shoved the cigarettes in an inner pocket of his coat, but discovered he didn’t have a lighter. Not in the coat, not on the dresser, not in the top drawer, not in his jeans. He spewed curses in an unthinking stream of English, French, and languages that fell somewhere in between.

“Noah. Noah, you don’t need it.” Lindsay stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I need you here with me, Noah. Look at me.”

“I don’t...” It sank in all at once that he had his magic and that he was awake and acting like he was out of his mind. “Right. Oh damn. I’m sorry.” Noah made himself breathe. That was the worst part of the dreams. That he had it. That he didn’t have it. That his own body, his own history could fuck him over like that. Why did it wait so long to come?

“It’s all right.” Lindsay held his gaze for another moment, then stepped back. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and passed it over. “Just in case.”

“I’m an idiot.” A wave of shame washed away some of Noah’s pain, drowning it in his awareness of how much he was needed and how badly he was behaving. “I promise, I’ll have it together before we’re there.”

“I know.” Lindsay held out his hand and, when Noah took it, he led Noah out of the room and down the hall to Cyrus’s front room.