And those eyes, looking at him that way, devouring him like he was the shining one, like he was the one full of light. But it was Danny who was blinded. He pulled Colton closer and buried a hand in his hair, putting his lips to his temple, his jaw, anywhere he could reach. He tried to reach under his shirt, for the waistband of his trousers, but Colton gently caught his hand and pressed it to the bed.
He nearly didn’t catch the way time contracted around them. Almost effortlessly Danny cast out his own power, reining Colton’s in, recognizing the moment when Enfield’s time got snarled in Colton’s emotions.
But together they made a shield against the night, a barrier of golden threads where time was theirs to control. Each small contact scattered him across the sky, as distant and bright as stars. Every second Colton took from him was a second he gave back. Each gasp was like being reborn. Building and stretching, as thin as glass.
“Danny,” Colton whispered in his ear.
He shattered.
Danny woke in the middle of the night to find Colton watching him. Half-embarrassed, Danny smiled shyly.
“You don’t have to stay if you feel tired.”
“I feel fine,” Colton said. Danny smoothed away the spirit’s fair hair. “What about you?”
“Good. Thirsty.”
Colton rose before he could get up, so Danny fell back onto the pillow. Fully dressed, Colton padded to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Danny sat up and let the covers slip off his bare shoulders. Strangely, he wasn’t embarrassed anymore. He savored the weight of Colton’s hands and lips on his body, the welt of burn marks without the pain.
“Come here a moment,” Danny said. Colton put the water on the nightstand and stood before where Danny knelt on the bed. He held Colton by the hips, looking up at him with curiosity.
“You really can’t feel anything?”
Colton shook his head. “I can feel your touch, but not like you do. It’s not the same.”
“But …” He thought of what they’d just done, and that intense moment in the clock room, when time had skewed so sharply.
“It’s more emotions than touch,” Colton explained. “I’m not sure how it works. I just can’t … do certain things. The things your body does.”
“Oh.”
Danny’s thumbs brushed up under Colton’s shirt. A silent question passed between them, and Colton nodded. Danny carefully removed the shirt to reveal Colton’s belly, flat and flawless and smooth to the touch. Danny couldn’t even feel any small, downy hairs on his skin. “You have a navel,” he said, surprised.
Colton looked down. “Is that what it’s called?”
Danny circled the spot with a fingertip. He leaned in and kissed it.
“Are you sure you can’t feel anything?”
Colton smiled sadly. He framed Danny’s face with his hands, then trailed one down to his chest.
“I feel this.” He pressed his palm over Danny’s beating heart. “That’s all I need.”
Danny rested his head against Colton’s chest and wrapped his arms around his waist. There was a strange urgency to this moment, as if he held a memory, something made out of prisms of light. He didn’t want to separate himself from this thing that grew sharp and irresistible every time they were close. Every time he held him in his arms, or counted every shade of gold within his eyes, he felt it grow and spread and tangle deeper. It bled him with every tiny kiss Colton pressed to his jaw and every laugh he managed to draw from within him. He chimed like a bell, infectious and unfading.
The moon was already gone. Tomorrow beckoned, and beyond was a land too far away and too unfamiliar to fully imagine.
“Wait for me,” Danny whispered, holding Colton tighter.
“I always do.”
Danny stared at the fading wood of the front door for several minutes, silently willing his hand to reach for the knob. He was still caught up in memories of the night before, the weight and promise of Colton’s touch. It turned the world around him fuzzy and inconsequential.
When he finally opened the door, he found his mother reading the paper at the kitchen table. She leapt to her feet.
“Thank goodness!” She hurried over to hug him, the top of her head resting just underneath his chin.
Danny was out of practice with hugging his mother, but as he uncertainly returned the embrace, it helped his mood somewhat. It was like embracing a thought instead of a woman, the kind of nostalgia that brings both a smile and a sigh.
She stepped back to wipe her eyes. “We were afraid you wouldn’t come back. Your father was upset for scaring you off. For all he insists you’re grown now, he still has trouble remembering you aren’t fourteen anymore. We tried to call you.”
Jane had told him his mother had rung twice, but Danny had claimed he was too busy. “Sorry, Mum. I just needed some time.” He looked around the room. “Where is he?”
“He was called to the office for something minor. He should be back soon.”
They had tea and discussed the India trip. Leila was still flustered—“And on such short notice, the nerve of it”—but she seemed more willing to let him have his way so long as he wasn’t cross with her. There had been too much tension between them in the past to risk opening up a new rift.
She helped him pack upstairs. He was only taking one trunk, and as he latched it closed, they heard the front door open and shared a look.
“I’ll tell him you’re here,” Leila said, standing.
She went downstairs while Danny sat on the trunk, hands clasped between his knees. Just as he was unused to being on good terms with his mother, he was unused to being on poor ones with his father. The reversal made his mind that much foggier.
Christopher didn’t waste time, nudging the door open a moment later. He let out an almost pained breath when he saw the trunk.
“Hard to believe you’ll be gone.”
“Not for long,” Danny reminded him. It was the same thing he’d said to Colton that morning before giving him one final kiss goodbye.
Christopher sat on the edge of Danny’s bed and mirrored his pose, perhaps unintentionally. “I’m sorry for how I acted.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“But it was wrong.” He started to jostle his leg up and down. “I almost didn’t think you’d bother coming to say goodbye.”
“Of course I would.” Danny and his father had argued before Christopher had left for Maldon, and Danny had carried the guilt of his words like a sharp-edged stone for three years. If he went to India and something happened to him, or to his father, he would regret this argument just as much.
“Danny, I only want what’s best for you. I hope you know that.”
“Dad—”
“It might be exciting to love a spirit—I was your age once, and loved to do the things I shouldn’t—but you’re so young, and he’s … well, not human. You’ll grow old, and he won’t. It just won’t work. More than that, it’s dangerous. Every day could potentially jeopardize Enfield.”
Danny thought back to the day they’d visited the factory, and the way the clock had run slow then fast. He hung his head to hide the wetness in his eyes.
“I’ve seen what this spirit’s been doing to you,” Christopher went on. “You keep putting Enfield—him—before yourself. Before anything else. That’s not right, Danny.”
Danny couldn’t even argue. Given a choice between what he wanted and what was right, he would choose Colton every time.
“I know that,” he said softly. “I know.”