concern.

“Long day,” Lindsay admitted, trying to stop shivering.

“You look like shit,” Dane said solemnly. Lindsay felt like shit too, so that worked out. “I swear he

enjoys making people miserable,” Dane muttered. “He’s done. We can go soon.” He bent his head and

nuzzled his cheek against Lindsay’s, rubbing like a cat marking his territory.

It felt good, a sweet contrast to how Lindsay felt otherwise. “Why are you so good to me?” he

murmured, curiosity rolling over his better sense. He hadn’t meant to ask, not ever. He didn’t want to jinx this. But the question had slipped out.

Dane shrugged, a ripple of muscles against Lindsay’s body. “It works.” He snorted softly against

Lindsay’s neck. “Kinda nice change from the usual, anyway.” He purred against Lindsay’s throat before

pulling back and giving Lindsay a crooked grin. “It does work, right?”

“Mmm.” Lindsay nodded. “It’s nice, knowing I can screw up and you won’t hate me for it.” It gave

him room to make mistakes. Like being upset about what Kristan had said. He’d been so wrong about all of

that. Kristan might have been Dane’s lover, but Lindsay was Dane’s to care for. He belonged to Dane, and

that was something even Kristan couldn’t lay claim to. Lindsay burrowed close against Dane’s chest,

sighing with contentment.

“No reason for me to hate you for anything you did yet.” Dane pulled the blankets up around Lindsay

and snuggled Lindsay up to keep him warm. “Hate’s something I save for a special few, anyway. Don’t

think you rate.” He chuckled softly, petting Lindsay’s hair away from his face.

“Feels good,” Lindsay admitted, not talking about the petting alone.

“I go easy on people I like anyway,” Dane said, still petting. “You, I like.” He shrugged again, his

expression sliding back to being as neutral as always.

Lindsay wriggled up enough to angle his mouth against Dane’s, pressing a soft kiss there. “I like you

too,” he whispered, ducking his head into the curve of Dane’s neck. He liked Dane a lot.

Dane purred and relaxed into the bed, laying his head in the pillows. “I noticed,” he rumbled. He

could smell it, probably, or he’d read it in Lindsay’s actions long before Lindsay had ever admitted to

himself how important Dane was to him.

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Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

Lindsay relaxed against Dane again, closing his eyes and trying not to let the memories surface. He

could feel tension creeping over him again and his throat got tight with disappointment. Couldn’t he be safe here, at least?

One of Dane’s fingers, very carefully, found a spot to tickle on Lindsay’s ribs. Lindsay squirmed,

surprising himself with a giggle, and ended up flopping on his belly to protect his sensitive skin.

Laughing, Dane stopped tickling and patted Lindsay’s ass instead. He draped his arm and one leg over

Lindsay, pinning him to the bed with warm weight, and pushed his nose into the hair behind Lindsay’s ear.

Whatever he smelled there elicited a low growl and a soft bite on Lindsay’s neck.

It made Lindsay shiver all over. He tilted his head forward, baring his neck. The chill from having

been torn open and thrown back together was slowly wearing off. Dane’s presence, his protectiveness and

his warmth and his laughter, were enough to penetrate Lindsay’s misery and wash it back to memories

where it belonged.

Dane licked where he’d bitten, tongue rasping slightly behind Lindsay’s ear. He growled again, an

angry noise, but he kissed Lindsay as though to reassure that Lindsay wasn’t the target. Shifting, he pulled Lindsay closer to him, sheltering him under the solid warmth of his body. Lindsay whispered Dane’s name,

feeling soothed and aroused at once.

Dane tugged the blankets up over both of them and gave a contented sigh. “Sleep now, eat later.”

Lindsay made a sound of agreement, tucking himself up in Dane’s arms and closing his eyes. That

sounded like a perfect plan. Maybe more things later than food. Maybe. He pressed a kiss to Dane’s bare

chest. It was new to have something so sweet to hope for.

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Chapter Eight

Dane woke before Lindsay, finding his little bunny curled up in a tight knot of anxiety against his

chest. He stroked Lindsay’s hair and cuddled him until the fearfulness subsided and all Dane could smell

was contentment. Outside, the sky was paling with dawn. No one needed to tell him Ezqel wanted to speak

to him. He could feel it. The house knew.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, kissing the snowy curve of Lindsay’s shoulder.

“Dane?” In spite of Dane’s caution, Lindsay startled awake, and Dane pulled him close, cursing

silently.

“I’m here.”

Lindsay twisted and flailed and wouldn’t be content until he’d worked himself around to press half-

sleeping kisses to Dane’s mouth. He was so young, so small, the little bunny. Dane sorted the blankets out

once Lindsay was done disarranging them, and petted him until he relaxed.

“I’m going to talk to Ezqel,” Dane told him, trying again. It was easy to forget how thin the line

between sleeping and waking was for Lindsay, given how still he was when he slept. “Someone will bring

you breakfast. You make sure to eat.”

Lindsay made an unhappy noise and shoved his face against Dane’s throat, his slender arms wrapping

around Dane’s neck like white vines. It should have irritated Dane, yet it didn’t—it was unnatural how it

didn’t. He felt like laughing, but he didn’t want to wake Lindsay further.

“If you don’t eat,” he whispered in Lindsay’s ear, “you won’t have any energy to get on with living,

little bunny.”

With another grump, Lindsay pulled his arms away and sighed forlornly. He peeped at Dane from

under his white-gold lashes, his gray eyes hazy with sleep. “I’ll eat,” he mumbled discontentedly.

“Thank you.” Dane kissed him on the head and slid away, tucking the blankets in behind him to keep

in the warmth. Lindsay rolled into the hollow Dane’s weight had made in the mattress and wrapped his

arms around the pillow Dane had used. Dane hoped he stayed sleeping.

Of course, none of their clothes were up here. Who needed Outside things in Ezqel’s house? Dane

tugged on the jeans and the long-sleeved shirt Izia had brought him yesterday—no, Dane didn’t want a

robe, thank you, he looked ridiculous in them, like a walking sofa—and went to eat before attending to his

old teacher. Ezqel could wait.

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

“I could wait, but why should I?” Ezqel caught Dane halfway through a rabbit he’d found in the

fridge, dressed and quartered and waiting to be cooked. Dane hadn’t bothered with that last part. He was

starving for flesh.

“Because I’m hungry.” Dane bit through a leg bone with a satisfying crunch.

“Your little bunny better watch that you keep your stomach full.” Ezqel closed the back door behind

him and brought in the pail of milk he’d been out getting, as he did many mornings.

“This is rabbit,” Dane clarified, taking another bite. It would have been better fresh and hot.

“Why are you so contrary?” Ezqel put the pail on the back of the counter to settle. “Have you learned

nothing?”

“I’ve learned not to waste my time.” Dane shoved the last of the rabbit leg into his mouth and got a tin

cup from the same hook it had been hung on for longer than Dane had known Ezqel. The enamel was worn

away where the handle met the hook, and the handle and the hook were growing thin. He ignored Ezqel’s

glare and pulled the linen off the pail so he could dip the cup into the warm milk, careful not to get his