Adam unlocked the door of Warren's apartment and held it open for me.
As soon as we were both inside, he closed the door and locked it.
When he turned to face me, his eyes were bright gold and his cheeks were flushed.
"If you don't want this," he told me, as he had since the .
.
.
incident with Tim, "you can say no." "Race you to the bedroom," I said, and started for the stairs.
He caught my arm in a very careful grip before I took more than two steps.
"Running .
.
.
would not be a good idea right now." He was ashamed of his lack of control; maybe someone else would have missed it in his voice.
Maybe I would have, too, if it weren't for the bond between us.
I put my hand over his and patted it.
"Okay," I said.
"Why don't you take me to bed?" I hadn't been ready for him to grab me and pick me up that fast or I wouldn't have squeaked.
He froze.
"Sorry," I said.
"I'm fine." He took me at my word and carried me to the stairs.
I halfway expected him to run, but instead his pace was deliberate, his step almost heavy.
The stairs were narrow and steep, and he was careful not to bang my head or feet.
He set me down just inside the guest bedroom and closed the door.
He stood there, his back to me, breathing heavily.
"A month," he said.
"And neither Zee nor any of the fae we knew could tell us if we'd ever get you back.
Samuel's woman couldn't find you--everything you had burned up in the fire.
Neither the van nor the Rabbit worked as a close enough tie.
She tried to approach me to see if she could use me, but she couldn't even walk into the same room as me-- not half-crazed as I was.
Touching me was out of the question.
I thought I had lost you." I remembered feeling Mary Jo and Paul hunting me.