Deep runs the world of magic—and desire.

Lindsay Carrington is a prisoner of his life—first in the mundane world, then in the military testing

facility where his parents sent him to have his magic dissected, studied and “fixed”. When he finally

escapes, freedom comes at great cost. The man who rescues him from near death in a dark alley is far from

a savior. He’s a feral mage nearly as broken as Lindsay himself.

Dane knows better than to argue with the wind that summoned him to Lindsay’s rescue, but playing

nursemaid isn’t the role he envisioned for himself in the battle to end the human campaign to control his

people. In spite of his resistance, he is bound to the delicate, skittish mage who unwittingly harbors one of the greatest magical powers ever known.

Lindsay desperately hides his growing desire, sure that Dane could never reciprocate. Yet Dane lays

his life on the line to protect him, restoring the one thing Lindsay thought was gone forever: hope.

But true freedom to live—and to love—will elude Lindsay until he can regain his magic and win

Dane’s complete devotion. And survive long enough to do both.

Warning: Contains graphic language, violence and explicit erotic content.

eBooks are not transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

Tatterdemalion

Copyright © 2010 by Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

ISBN: 978-1-60928-037-6

Edited by Anne Scott

Cover by Natalie Winters

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2010

www.samhainpublishing.com

Tatterdemalion

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Dedication

If this were a book that either of us had written alone, we each would have dedicated our book to the

other. With both of our names on the cover, we dedicate this book to the family and friends who have made

our work better through their support and kindness. We would particularly like to express our appreciation

of the four-footed, furry family members whose determined interference never fails to keep our priorities in proper order: petting now, writing later.

Chapter One

The steel table at the center of the operating room would hold a body with the arms and legs spread

wide. Lindsay knew it was waiting for him and pressed his bare feet to the floor to slow the inevitable.

Technicians dragged him into the ring of fluorescent orange shapes painted on the concrete. Runes—they

spoke, but not any language Lindsay knew. He only knew to be afraid of them, and of what waited for him

inside the circle.

He screamed when the technicians tried to strap him to the table. He fought, fragile elbows and knees

thrown like weapons. He screamed when they stripped him naked to apply the electrodes. His decaying

teeth snapped on the air, ground against each other and splintered dentin. He knew what was coming. A

broad-shouldered man in a crisp vanilla jumper jammed a black rubber gag in his mouth when he opened

up to scream again.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” The man’s hand covered his mouth and nose, cutting off his air. “You know

they don’t get good results when you make all that noise.” The man straightened and patted his cheek,

letting him breathe again. The air was cold, like steel and concrete, and it stank like rubber, choking him.

With no other way to resist, Lindsay lay there and shook so hard with the cold that he couldn’t struggle

against his restraints anymore.

“Never learns, that one,” the other tech noted, shaking his head. He was at the far side of the room,

waking up the big computers lurking there, turning on the cameras.

The beetles on the ceiling came to life, flashing bright and turning their single eyes on Lindsay,

moving so close that he could look up into one. His terrified and distorted face looked back at him as he

stared up into the lens that was taking his picture out to where a hundred eyes and more would see him.

Father, can you see me? Of course he could. His father could see him. His mother could see him.

Somewhere, beyond the lens and the wires, they were watching, waiting for him to be cured. That was why

they’d brought him here. He clung to his certainty that when he was better, they’d come and take him

home. The lonely life he’d once longed to leave seemed like a paradise now, and he wanted to go home.

Lindsay reached for his magic, but it was hidden behind the drugs, like he’d never been magic at all. He

was trapped here, in this body and in this place.

“Lindsay.” It was a woman speaking. Her voice was soft and pretty and rich, like his mother’s. She

sounded gentle, but she could be so cruel. “This won’t take long.” She always said that. But what was time

Tatterdemalion

when he was in agony? “I need you to concentrate.” One of the technicians slid a needle into his vein and

pushed something into him. It burned cold and made his heart stagger.

Concentrate. He was shaking too hard to focus. His heartbeat sounded like thunder in his head. The usual drugs wore thin and the new serum ripped through him, laying him open. The real test hadn’t started

and he was already in pain.

“Can you hear me, Lindsay? We’re going to start now.” The computers hummed. The beat of his

heart pinged and echoed off the bare concrete walls. Lindsay stared into the blackness beyond the rings of

lights like halos all around him, trying to will himself out of his body. A door opened and the woman

entered, her heels clicking sharply on the floor.

“You’ve been doing very well lately,” she said. He couldn’t see her—the lights around him were too

bright. “Let’s try this one more time.” She put a velvet cloth on his chest. It was so warm and soft. He didn’t know when he’d felt that last. The curtains at home, maybe, where he used to hide from the adults

stalking the halls like specters. There was something heavy hidden in the cloth and she unwrapped it,

spreading the velvet over him. So warm.

She fit something icy and heavy around his throat. He tried to gasp, but the gag made it hard to inhale.

She closed the stone collar with a click and put the locking pin through with a tiny, silvery noise. There was a collar for his throat, a cuff for each wrist.

“You look like royalty,” she said affectionately, when she was done. She took the warm velvet away

from him and she put an icy hand on his forehead. “Only very special mages got to wear this, you know.”

When she leaned in, he could see her eyes, clear and glassy as common marbles. “Celare,” she whispered.

And then she was gone, clicking away from him. “Start the experiment.”