When Lindsay fucked him just right, it rippled through him and he clenched tight around Lindsay’s cock. It was incredibly intense and, each time, Lindsay struggled not to let the sensation overwhelm him.

He managed to balance on one arm and wrapped his other hand around Noah’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

Touching Noah like that turned up the volume and the intensity. Noah grabbed handfuls of the sheets, arching under Lindsay and crying out his name. He begged for more, harder, please, and then he was coming, every muscle taut with it as come splashed up his chest.

The clench of Noah’s body around him shattered the last of Lindsay’s control. His hips jerked and he drove into Noah faster, harder, coming and coming apart with every thrust. Collapsing over Noah, barely catching himself on his elbows, he gasped for breath and grasped at the shreds of coherent thought his orgasm had left behind.

He’d never expected that. Any of it.

Lindsay rubbed his cheek against Noah’s, then mouthed at the corner of his lips, coaxing him into a kiss. Noah wrapped an arm around him and slid a hand up into his hair while they kissed. The soft noises he made sounded both inadvertent and completely blissful. Lindsay savored each one.

He rocked against Noah once, twice more, every movement sending sparks of heat racing through him before he pulled away to stretch out against Noah’s side.

Noah rolled over to face him, pressing close and petting down Lindsay’s back as they kissed. He paused, but it was only to pull the covers up over them, tucking Lindsay in with him.

“That was so good,” he murmured, as though there might be any doubt left in Lindsay’s mind about that fact. He sighed shakily and kissed Lindsay once more, a soft kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not something you need to thank me for. But you’re welcome. Very.” Lindsay kissed him back. The stubble of Noah’s hair tickled over his palm when he let his hand slip down to the back of Noah’s neck. He rubbed there, working away the tension he could feel building up. “You should rest.”

“You too.” Noah’s eyes were already closed and his tension ebbed as Lindsay chased it away. “If you ever want...” He paused, stroking Lindsay’s hip while he searched for words. “If you ever want this again.

Whenever you decide. It would be good.” His eyes fluttered open. “Understand?”

Lindsay was sure he was missing some of the nuances of what Noah was trying to say, as usual; there would be some kind of formal boundaries on what one did with one’s apprentices but of course no one had stopped to explain them to him. He did understand that Noah would be open to having sex with him again—that Noah wanted him—and he knew what it meant for Noah to let him in as a lover. He’d seen the wreckage of the back porch after Noah had blown Kristan through the door and set fire to the house rather than yield to temptation.

“I understand.” Even in the midst of all his loss and the destruction of the life he’d come to trust, Lindsay felt like something had gone right, something vital in spite of how small it seemed next to Moore’s machinations. Gently, Lindsay squeezed the back of Noah’s neck the way Dane sometimes did to him and added, “Now rest. Before I put you to sleep myself.”

They were a mess of oil and drying come, and Lindsay’s scattered and rumpled clothes, but Lindsay didn’t want to deal with any of it. He wanted to know that Noah was healthy and safe, and he wanted to rest.

Noah didn’t protest. He snuggled down in the blankets and was asleep in seconds. Lindsay watched him sleep and wondered how often Dane did the same when he was the one who slept.

Dane.

Being with Noah didn’t feel like a betrayal, but it filled Lindsay with a longing for his first lover, and he thought about what Dane had said before they went to find Zoey. Dane loved him. Lindsay hadn’t had a chance to unravel the mystery of what that meant; he hadn’t had a chance to stop and think about how he felt about Dane. Not until now.

He found Noah’s scarred left hand and brought it up to his lips. Noah’s love for his wife had given Lindsay his first glimpse what real love looked like for other people, had given him something against

which to measure his feelings for Dane. I don’t want to be the reason you feel the way I do. Noah knew, saw it before Lindsay knew what to call it, and that made everything vivid and real.

They would find Dane, get him back from Moore, and Lindsay would tell him what he deserved to hear. Lindsay didn’t let himself feel anything but certain he’d succeed. He had to. He wasn’t going to lose Dane again. Not now. Not when he finally understood.

Eventually, soothed by Noah’s slow, unlabored breathing and the memory of Dane’s declaration, Lindsay drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Ten

They were offloaded in the dark, under a cloudy sky that made it impossible for Dane to see the stars.

He was, as far as he could tell, nowhere. His instincts were crippled, and he had nothing to go on but a runway and a cluster of gray buildings that could have been anywhere on earth. The wind blew and Dane turned his face into it, but he heard nothing. Maybe he couldn’t hear without his magic.

He and Jonas—in their cages—were loaded onto flatbed carts and accompanied into one of the buildings by a dozen soldiers and two white-coated technicians. When Dane squinted, he could see the nametag of the one who came close to inspect him. The man’s round face twisted with distaste. Dane knew he looked bad, but there was no need to be rude about it.

“Sorry I haven’t shaved,” he said, and was rewarded by the guy nearly pissing himself in terror and falling over his own feet to get back from the cage. “I asked, but these new airlines don’t even serve meals, much less provide razors.”

“Shut up.” One of the soldiers hit the cage with a baton and made the bars ring. Dane wanted nothing more than to reach through the bars and rip the man’s throat out, just to watch the others’ faces. He knew better, though. He was suffering enough already. If he made things worse for himself... Well, they could let him out of the cage right now and he still wouldn’t make it out of there alive.

Dane settled for flashing the technician a grin and hunkering down in the middle of the cage. Too close to the bars and it would be easy for someone to entertain themselves by prodding him with a charged baton. Behind him, he could hear them discussing Jonas. He felt half-deaf without his magical senses, but he could make out the conversation.

Damn right Jonas was “non-functional”. As things stood, Dane was going to have to leave him behind in order to escape and that was troubling him.

Another reason to hate Moore—worrying about the animal he’d spent the last century looking forward to killing. But he wasn’t letting Moore have a single piece of mageflesh, and that included Jonas.

The guards and technicians installed them in a lab, literally installed them by sliding their cages into place against a wall, side by side and some feet off the ground. It was dim, only a few small lights on where the technicians were working, but Dane could feel that the room was vast, the way sound faded into it and was gone. He was sure there were living things in the room other than the staff. When he tuned out the snuffle and whine of Jonas’s breathing, there were faint organic sounds.

“We need to put them out.” The words were spoken low, but Dane’s head whipped around so fast he wanted to whimper in protest. “Blow darts or...”

“I’ll get the stick.” That was a female technician, one who seemed to be in charge. She looked like a cheerleader, but Dane could make out the ugly curl of her smile when she turned toward him. Moore was crazy for ugly, inside or out.