The Fever King (Feverwake #1)(67)

Ames managed a weak thumbs-up.

“She’s fine. Can you make it downstairs?”

“I’m drunk, not incapacitated.”

Dara smiled and crawled back off the bed. He offered Noam a hand, pulling him up to his feet. The room swayed, then settled. “Good?”

“Good.”

They made it downstairs without breaking any bones, but it was a near thing. Dara could barely stand upright half the time, stumbling into Noam and knocking him against the wall. Dara’s body was too hot, his waist firm when Noam grabbed at it to keep Dara from tripping down the last few stairs. Dara laughed, and Noam was dizzy, bright.

In the drawing room, General Ames lounged in one of his overstuffed, claw-foot armchairs, puffing away at a cigar.

All that rage crashed back in at once, quenching the dazed euphoria of a second before. Noam glared, wishing one of his abilities was the kind where you could cause someone incredible pain just by looking. He wanted to see the general writhing on the floor like a fish out of water, skin purpling in agony.

Next to him, Dara finally let go from where he’d been clinging to Noam with both hands. He wavered on his feet, and for a second Noam thought he might have to grab the back of Dara’s shirt to keep him from tipping over.

Lehrer stood by the lit fireplace with James Attwood. He’d discarded his suit jacket to wear just his shirt and waistcoat, a cigarette held between his fingers. “You look pale, Noam. Are you feeling all right?”

Your friend is batshit fucking crazy, Noam thought in Lehrer’s general direction and wished Lehrer could hear him. God. Someone had to tell Lehrer. Someone had to.

Noam opened his mouth to answer, but Dara got there first. He sidled up to Lehrer and Attwood, stumbling just a little as he hooked his arm through Attwood’s elbow.

“Do you mind if I . . . ?” he asked and took Attwood’s drink out of his hand.

Attwood stared at Dara in shocked silence as Dara sipped his scotch and leaned a little farther into Attwood’s side. When Dara finally lowered the glass and looked at Lehrer, he smiled.

“Where were you?” Lehrer said, too calmly.

Dara’s smile chilled. “Don’t you know?” he said. He tapped one finger against the rim of Attwood’s glass. “You and Noam are very close now, aren’t you, Calix? What with all the time you’ve spent together lately. Bonding.”

It was the first time Noam’d ever heard Dara call Lehrer by his actual name.

Lehrer was expressionless. “Perhaps you should stop drinking.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dara lifted the scotch to his mouth again, but Lehrer moved inhumanly fast. He plucked the glass from Dara’s hand.

Attwood diplomatically chose that moment to disentangle himself from Dara’s grasp.

“Excuse me—” Dara started, but Lehrer shook his head.

“You’ve had enough.”

Dara sneered like he was about to actually argue with Lehrer on that point—but he didn’t, thank god. Maybe this was why he and Ames both wanted Noam to come along so badly—to stop them all from killing each other.

“You know what,” Dara said. Lehrer still stood there, near enough to touch, but Dara hadn’t flinched. Noam couldn’t name the look on his face, Dara’s eyes glittering like black basalt and his chin pointed toward Lehrer. “I have, actually.”

Noam swore he tasted magic in the air, sharp as spilled blood.

Lehrer set the scotch glass on the mantel above the fireplace. “It’s late. We should be getting home.”

Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank fuck.

Noam tried to steady himself from the tequila haze, wishing he had Dara close enough again to keep himself upright.

“You boys can stay here if you like,” General Ames said without getting up. Smoke puffed out from his mouth as he spoke. “We have plenty of guest rooms. What do you say, Dara?”

“Dara will be coming home with me tonight, I think,” Lehrer interrupted smoothly. He put out his cigarette on an ashtray and raised a brow in Dara’s direction.

“Actually . . .” Dara said, but Lehrer shook his head.

“It’s been a while since we’ve spent time together. I feel I’ve been remiss in my duties as your guardian. You’ll spend the weekend.”

Dara looked like he would rather break each of his fingers individually than spend any alone time with Lehrer, but he didn’t argue. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he glanced at Noam instead. “Well, you’ll still ride with us, right, Noam? No point wasting taxi fare.”

“Sure,” Noam said, because the alternative was loitering around here with the general until his car came, and yeah, no.

Dara and Lehrer were both silent on the ride back to the government complex, Dara sitting to Noam’s right and twisted so he could look out the window and not at either of them, Lehrer opposite them reading emails on his phone.

Eventually, and without looking up from his phone, Lehrer spoke. “You will not embarrass me again.”

Something in the pit of Noam’s stomach shriveled, his cheeks going hot. Lehrer couldn’t just be talking to Dara; he had to mean Noam too.

Noam kept staring at them both, waiting for one or the other to speak again, but Lehrer appeared to have said his piece. Dara had his brow pressed against the window now, both hands fisted in his lap.