With rigid self-control, he kept his voice even, deliberate. “I have things I need to say to you, and I believe they should be said in person. I will be at the Venetian Resort in Las Vegas Friday night, and I will wait there for you until Sunday evening. It’s your choice whether you show or not, but I hope you do, milaya. Just know I will be there.”

“What are you trying to do now?” she whispered.

“Show up and find out.”

“I’m hanging up now.” Abruptly, she disconnected.

He stood contemplating the messes he had made. The shattered plate of food, the blood on the counter, his life.

A text came in from Molly. I don’t know if I’m coming. I need to think, so give me some space. Don’t call or text.

Acknowledged, he replied.

Instinctively, he knew now would not be a good time to push. As hard as it was to give up those evening interchanges, he turned his attention to work and kept it there, only taking time enough away to lay the elaborate travel plans that would hide his true destination from any potential onlookers.

Would she come? Thoughts of her consumed him. Belatedly, he realized just how much of a danger he had become, to himself and his coven.

Friday evening, after he had checked in at the Venetian, he texted her the suite number. She didn’t respond. She was staying somewhere on the coast, so it was possible she was still in midflight.

He showered, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, ordered a steak from room service and let it grow cold while he cast protection spells around the suite. Then he paced the spacious cream-and-taupe interior like a caged animal, raging at the restrictions he had set on himself.

He would not text her again. He would wait, as he had promised.

Close to nine o’clock, a knock sounded at the door. Lunging, he yanked it open. She stood in the hall with a handbag on her shoulder, wearing sandals, a loose cotton shirt, and flowing capri pants. She did not have a weekend bag, and her expression was strained and white.

He soaked in every detail, his mouth held tight. The things she put him through. She was here, but just barely. She was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

Finally he asked with a grim smile, “Did you miss the shit out of me?”

Her eyes blazed. She looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him.

He stood back, holding the door wide. She stalked in like a tigress and flung her purse onto a chair.

Then she rounded on him. “What?” she snapped. “Why am I here?”

She was very angry. But she was still here.

He told her gravely, “Only you can answer why you came, milaya.”

She gestured impatiently. “There were things you needed to say in person. So say them.”