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into the howling and the snow.
In the last of the starlight, before the storm closed on them, Lindsay looked down to see huge wings
spread out on either side of him. “Dane.” He leaned forward, burying his face in a great, warm mane that
smelled familiar and safe, and wrapped his arms around a thick, strong neck. The heat of the creature under him kept the worst of the cold away and he could feel muscles surging with each wing beat as Dane
followed the wind home.
As the terror that had filled Lindsay was washed away in the wind and passing minutes, he was
nagged by a quiet thought that had been waiting to be acknowledged. He had left everyone behind him
alive. Even Moore. Even Lourdes. His time of broke
Smiling, he pressed closer to the neck of the beast and closed his eyes against the wind.
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Lindsay was half-asleep when the storm pulled away and dropped them into the sky above a house he
recognized, even from the air. Dane spiraled down and down and down until his four paws touched the
ground and—light as a feather—they landed. Still drained, but driven by anxiety and the need to make sure
Dane was well, Lindsay all but tumbled from his back.
The doors to the third-floor balcony were open and, in the light that spilled out into the silent garden,
Lindsay could see what had carried him. Urging his legs to hold him up, he let go of the mane and stepped
back to look.
Dane shook his wild mane as though to settle it back, just as he did when he was human.
A lion. Lindsay could have believed that without a moment’s pause, a beautiful golden lion, as gold as
Dane with a mane as black as Dane’s hair and just as beautiful. But the wings, black and gold and bronze
and…Dane spread them, snorting like he was laughing, and Lindsay realized that he believed that too. He
could even believe that Dane was so stubborn as to give up all that beauty and freedom to keep his pride.
“Dane.” Lindsay threw his arms as far around Dane’s thick neck as he could reach and buried his face
in Dane’s mane. Dane was huge next to Lindsay, and so soft and warm. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered,
rubbing his cheek against Dane’s softly furred face. Maybe “beautiful” wasn’t how he was supposed to
describe a creature like Dane, but Lindsay didn’t have a better word for a lion, for whatever Dane was. A
gryphon.
Dane spread his wings wide, and in the next moment, Lindsay was in his arms and he was bending to
kiss Lindsay all over again. The familiar warmth of Dane’s body—alive and whole—was a welcome
sensation, after the night of illusion and fear.
Dane got his hands in Lindsay’s hair and he kissed Lindsay with all the wanto
time Lindsay’s magic had slipped and taken away his self-control. He was breathless, his body taut and
trembling, but he seemed well, his flesh intact under his shredded clothes when Lindsay’s hands skimmed
over his body.
They were both alive and whole and safe again.
Dane pulled back to look at him in the light that spilled out of Cyrus’s window above. “Did they hurt
you?” He cupped Lindsay’s face in his hands and tilted it up.
“No,” Lindsay said, meeting Dane’s eyes. “I’m all right. They drugged me again, but I’m all right.
She didn’t get me, not this time.”
“I’m sorry.” Dane kissed Lindsay’s cheeks and his mouth before pulling away again. “I am so sorry. I
keep failing you. You deserve better.” He looked like he had when they’d first met, feral and ragged again, but his expression was so soft now.
Lindsay clenched his hands in Dane’s ragged, filthy clothes, still shaking his head. “No. I deserve
what I have. I’m yours, remember?” He’d never belonged to anyone before, never meant enough to anyone
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that his co
Dane was frozen for a moment, and then he swept Lindsay up off of his feet and kissed him. His soft
growl was familiar and shamelessly possessive, sending another wave of relief through Lindsay. Dane
wasn’t going to give him up or give him away.
Above them, someone pulled the balcony doors shut and drew the curtains, leaving them alone in the
dark. It was cold outside and clouds heavy with snow were moving on the hard wind. Dane settled Lindsay
in his arms, sheltering him, kissing him all the while, and headed for the back stairs. He carried Lindsay in and up the narrow, winding staircase, down the hall past Cyrus’s room and up another tiny, creaking set of
stairs at the front of the house.
In the little garret room at the top, Dane set Lindsay on his feet and kissed him once more, tenderly.
When Dane pulled away from the kiss, Lindsay looked around. The room was filled with books, a
wardrobe, a desk and an old iron bed. There was no light in here, no warmth except for a glowing heater
tucked in a corner. Snow was rattling against the windows and the roof, and the wind wailed around the
corners.
It was so different from the room they’d given to Lindsay. Where Lindsay’s room was furnished and
ornate, with a large fireplace to keep it warm, Dane’s was spartan. It was definitely Dane’s, though.
Lindsay’s room could have been mistaken for anyone’s—there were no personal items but his clothes. In
Dane’s room, the books and the furniture had obviously been gathered over years, each thing kept because
it mattered. And here Lindsay was, with all the rest of the things Dane wanted to keep.
Dane peeled off his coat and shirt at once, the fabric tearing as he shrugged out of it and tossed it into
the corner by the door. His bare skin was marred with twisting new scars, knots and ropes that were slow to fade. He shook back his hair—something about the shifting had left it clean—and reached for Lindsay
again, as though he was unwilling to stop touching even for a moment.
Lindsay still had blood on his hands and clothes from when he’d touched Dane before they escaped,
but he didn’t care. The blood was Dane’s, so it was as good as clean.
He stepped into the circle of Dane’s arms and Dane ran his hands up and down Lindsay’s back. He
wasn’t kissing yet, it felt like he was inspecting what was his. He growled and bit Lindsay under the ear
with a hot, sucking kiss that was all sharp teeth. Lindsay shivered, his head dropping to the side to bare his neck for more.
Dane bit him again and this time, as he did, his claws cut through Lindsay’s clothes. There was no
method to it, just his hot mouth on Lindsay’s throat, claiming it for his own, and his claws shredding fabric until the pieces fell away. As eager as he seemed to get Lindsay bare, his claws never left a mark on
Lindsay’s skin.
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Lindsay wasn’t even cold anymore, especially when Dane’s fingers slipped between his thighs.
“Please?”
“Anything.” Dane was so incredibly good to him.
“Keep touching me?” That was all Lindsay wanted. He needed to be touched so he could have the
reminder, again and again, of what it was to be Dane’s.
“Come to bed.”
The bed frame was old iron, but the mattress was soft when Lindsay crawled onto it, and the covers
were filled with down, as were the pillows. The sheets were white cotton, cold with the winter chill.