“No,” he managed to say. “I don’t.” He watched his hand turn palm up, unfolding for hers to slide across it. Her skin was cool, like fine linen. When he pulled his gaze away so he wouldn’t have to watch, he looked into her eyes. They were the color of amethysts.

“Maybe you want to not talk,” she said softly. He could hear the proposition in her words. All of her was a living, breathing proposition.

No. No. Noah sucked in air to try to force it out as a word, but instead he leaned in and met her mouth with his. Her lips were lush and damp with anticipation. While his mind panicked and fought, grasping at anything to try to push her away, his body moved closer. He could feel the softness of her breast under his wounded hand. His mind howled with rage while his traitorous instincts pushed him on, toward things he’d never imagined wanting.

Kristan slid her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him with a low moan, shifting to pin him down with her slight weight, her bare white thigh sliding between his to give him something to buck against as his body betrayed him. She was wearing nothing under her silky robe, and his hands were all over her tender skin. All he had to do was strip his fly open, roll her over and have her right there on the step.

God, he was aching for her, wanted her trapped under him, wanted inside her. He was driven and desperate, like an animal. It had been too long since anyone had touched him like this, since he’d had anyone the way he wanted her. Noah was worse than drunk, he was drugged, and no matter how he clawed at the inside of his own mind, he couldn’t find the fire to burn himself clean.

Something in him stretched thin and snapped.

The fire exploding from his skin blew Noah backward hard enough that his shoulders dug hollows in the soft earth where he landed. He heard Kristan scream, a tarnished mockery of what he heard in his dreams, and he had to make it stop. Fire drove out of his raised hand like a battering ram, and he felt more than saw her standing on the steps just before the fire took her full in the chest and drove her through the back door.

Noah could smell burning hair and skin. Rolling to his knees, he vomited scotch and fire, splashing the grass and leaving it smoldering. She wouldn’t stop screaming and he lurched to his feet, ripping fire out of nowhere with both hands to hurl it at her and ram it down her throat to make it stop. As his fire roared toward the house, with all his will behind it, he felt something terrible.

Suddenly, everything was still. The oxygen was torn out of the air, out of him, and his fire died. He stood there, frozen, while the vacuum sucked the life out of everything. The world went black.

The front door was standing open when they finally got back to the house. Cyrus stood inside, his face as dark and fierce as a brewing storm.

“Do none of you have any intention of doing what’s needed of you?” Lindsay wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Cyrus this angry. Before either of them could answer, there were footsteps on the stairs, descending.

“I need a few things from the car.” The man who slipped past Cyrus was small and narrow, with dark skin and sharp features. “But I think she’ll fare better than the back porch has.” He gave Dane and Lindsay a nod as they stepped aside to let him pass.

“In there.” Cyrus pointed to the living room. “Go.” His glare was enough to silence Dane for the moment.

Lindsay followed Dane inside, heart pounding still. Where was Noah? Was he all right? Lindsay wanted to find him, make sure he was safe. Who was “she” that the man was talking about? He must’ve been a healer, why wasn’t he helping Noah?

Too many questions, and Cyrus was definitely not in the mood to answer any of them. Lindsay would have to wait.

“If the two of you wish to pretend to be human, you can go live among them,” Cyrus snapped. “I cannot be picking up the slack left by your inability to behave as one of our kind.” He poked a thin finger in Lindsay’s direction. “I expect ignorance from you, but I did not expect you to leave your student alone. Nor did I think you would leave him defenseless against the other magics in this house.”

“What happened?” Lindsay had felt someone else’s magic on Noah, but he couldn’t tell whose it had been. She, the healer had said. Kristan or Vivian? “What the hell was she doing to him?”

“All that matters is that I was forced to keep this place from going up in flames. The attention that would bring upon us would be catastrophic.” Cyrus’s eyes were alight with fury. “And if I could not have stopped him? I would have been forced to terminate the oldest son of an unbroken mage line. The consequences would be unfathomable. I cannot leave such a responsibility in careless hands.”

“You made the choice, Cyrus,” Dane said quietly, wrapping his arms around Lindsay. “Both times.

You didn’t ask my opinion in either case. Don’t like it, then stop making decisions without asking.”

“I am doing as I see fit, as is my right,” Cyrus hissed. “What I have done, I will undo if I must. Quinn sent me his son, I will take responsibility for him myself.”

It only took a moment for Lindsay to realize what Cyrus was saying. “No. You can’t take him away from me.” He knew that much. Dane had said Cyrus couldn’t take him from Dane, and that meant he couldn’t take Noah from Lindsay. “He’s mine, and the only reason he had his magic was to protect himself when she hurt him.”

“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.