He wasn’t.
Noam would never choosehim.
But if he stayed here with Dara ...
They still didn’t know how to defeat Lehrer. The vaccine was probably worthless. And fevermad or not, Lehrer was still strong enough to kill Noam easy.
If Noam stayed here, he might live another few weeks. But then they’d all die, every one of them. Including anyone else Lehrer had infected or killed in the name of the Carolinian cause.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but Dara wouldn’t look at him now. Wouldn’t say a word.
Dara pushed past Noam and flung open the door to the bar, retreating back into the warmth. The door slammed shut behind him, and it felt like the last cannon fire at the end of a long battle.
Lethal.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
NOAM
Noam barely remembered the trip back.
He knew he took the government car. He knew he must have gotten out of it at the entrance to the government complex, shown his identification to the guards. Must have taken that mirrored elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down the hall and into Lehrer’s study and taken down Lehrer’s wards.
And yet, toeing off his shoes in Lehrer’s hall, he couldn’t remember how he got here.
It was 9:57 p.m. And judging from the fluttering firelight at the end of the hall, Lehrer had already returned.
Noam followed that light into the living room. He didn’t know what he’d expected—more violence, perhaps, or Lehrer with his shirt already half-unbuttoned. But what he found was Lehrer standing by the hearth and gazing down into the flame. He had a drink in hand already, still full.
Or refilled, perhaps.
Lehrer lifted his head and looked at him. Then he sighed, pushed off away from the fireplace, and beckoned Noam closer.
Every step Noam took was another key turned in a lock.
Once Noam was in reach, Lehrer lifted that same hand to skim his touch over Noam’s damaged face.
“I’m sorry about this,” Lehrer said, and helookedsorry—his lips gone thin as his magic flickered to the tips of his fingers, healed Noam’s bruised flesh. “I lost my temper. It was unacceptable. It won’t happen again.”
Noam didn’t know what to say to that. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, wordless.
Even with Noam’s face healed, Lehrer’s hand lingered—slid farther back, fingers tracing the shell of Noam’s ear. Lehrer took in a shallow breath—but then he shook his head, said, “Let me get you a drink.”
It felt bizarrelyfamiliar, watching Lehrer pour the scotch from the bar cart—that faceted crystal decanter poised over the tulip glass, Lehrer lifting the dram and carrying it back to press the drink into Noam’s limp hand.
Lehrer took a sip of his own whisky while watching Noam—and after several seconds Noam made himself drink as well. This time he barely felt the burn on the way down.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back,” Lehrer said in a quiet tone. He was still so close. His gaze flickered between Noam’s eyes, like he couldn’t quite read him. “I didn’t ... when I told you to be here at ten ... I didn’t use persuasion.” His mouth twitched up, however briefly. “I admit I hoped you’d return. But I was equally certain you’d run.”
Say something.
Noam had to say something. He swallowed against the taste of liquor in the back of his throat.
“I thought about it,” he said. His grasp felt slick around the tulip glass. He shifted his fingers closer to the base for a better hold. “But. I just ... I guess I couldn’t, in the end.”
Lehrer let out a soft breath, one Noam felt whispering through his own hair. “You have no idea how much of a relief that is to hear,” he said. His hands were on Noam, skimming light along his ribs—those, he hadn’t healed. Noam stayed very still, so still he thought Lehrer might feel Noam’s heartbeat pounding against his chest as his touch wandered down Noam’s sternum. Lehrer’s fingers caught on one of Noam’s buttons, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb against the mother-of-pearl.
But he didn’t push it through its hole. For all Lehrer had made himself clear this afternoon—after everything—he didn’t move to undress Noam. Not yet.
