time to cringe with guilt before they were moving again, so he put the energy into running.
When they finally burst out onto the rooftop under a clear black sky shattered by spotlights and
helicopters, there was a moment when Lindsay realized he’d never expected to make it this far. He could
see for miles up here—the bright lights of the distant city, the black brow of a looming storm front rushing toward them. The air smelled like snow was on the way, sharp with anticipation.
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“Run.” Dane fired at a trio of soldiers, backing them up toward the shelter of the ventilation system.
At least this time he came with Lindsay, using his body to shelter Lindsay from the wind and the bullets
rattling off the rooftop around them. The bullets stopped. “They don’t want to kill you.”
The helicopters kept circling, like buzzards. “How…” How are we going to get out of here? Terror
kept banging up against Lindsay’s ribs, trying to climb up his throat.
“Trust me.”
A pair of jets from the nearby air force base shrieked overhead. Oh God. Lindsay did trust Dane, but things seemed impossible, even if no one wanted him dead. They were almost at the edge of the roof and
the wind was pushing them from behind even as it was shoving the storm toward them.
A helicopter dropped down and Lindsay could see the soldiers inside. One of them fired at the edge of
the roof, drawing a dotted line, warning them not to cross.
“Hold on.”
Lindsay had no idea what he was supposed to hold on to when Dane dropped the guns and swung
Lindsay up onto his back. Lindsay had no choice but to grab handfuls of thick black hair, clinging like a
burr as Dane took the last step. They were airborne, the wind lifting them up.
The wind couldn’t hold them up forever, though. They dropped, and Lindsay screamed. “Dane!”
Lindsay could feel Dane shifting under him and then they were rising. Lindsay raised his head and his
eyes widened. They should’ve been falling still, plummeting toward the ground, but they weren’t. Far from
it. They were flying.
The wind gathered up under them, vaulting them high into the air this time. Behind them, Lindsay felt
as much as heard a great thud and when he glanced over his shoulder, he could see the fire flowering where
a helicopter had crashed into the building. Clutching Dane’s mane, he cast about to locate the other just in time to see the wind drive it down and down, until it burst into flames on contact with the ground.
Cyrus. Run to Cyrus.
“Come home,” Cyrus murmured in his ears. The storm front yawned open and the wind pulled them
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 brokenness was past, and he’d freed them on his own terms.
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 wantonness that he’d had the
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 connection to them mattered. Belonging to Dane, being Dane’s, felt like the best thing that had ever happened to him. “I deserve you.”
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.