They were growing closer to a breakthrough for getting back to Eudae every day, giving her just enough hope to continue on. She tried not to think about how long Thomas had been over there or that the odds grew slimmer every day that he still lived. Those were not things she could dwell on.

Isabelle leaned forward and laid her head on the papers in front of her. Sleep pulled at her, but she resisted. Just needed to rest her eyes a bit….

A warm hand closed around her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat, arrested by the familiarity of the touch. She would know the warmth of that hand anywhere, the weight of it. Her eyes opened slowly.

“Isabelle?”

His voice. Her name on his lips.

She had to be dreaming.

Isabelle lifted her head, tears stinging her eyes. This couldn’t be real. She pushed the chair back, rose and turned around.

Thomas stood before her still dressed in the same drawstring pants he’d been wearing three weeks ago. His hair, tangled and matted, stuck up in tufts around his head. Someone had cut it…badly. His now short hair threw his brutally handsome face in angular relief. He’d lost at least twenty pounds. Someone had tried to clean him up, but dirt and grime still marked his skin, as well as a profusion of cuts and bruises. He smelled heavily of blood and demon magick.

Isabelle didn’t care.

She stepped toward him, hand outstretched, trying to gain a foothold on the moment. Blinking, she said, “I fell asleep. I’m dreaming.”

Thomas stepped toward her and yanked her into his arms. “You’re not dreaming, Isabelle. Do you think anything in this universe could stop me from getting back to you?”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers and proved to her that he was, indeed, flesh and blood. His warm lips skated over hers softly, then pressed down possessively. His tongue speared between her lips and rubbed against hers with a ferocity that stopped her breath in her throat. His fingers curled into her hair, his arms strong around her body.

He held her like he’d never let go.

Isabelle sobbed against his lips, tasting her tears as they ran into her mouth. “How?” she murmured. Her fingers found solid purchase around his shoulders. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay.” His voice came out scratchy but strong and steady. “They just roughed me up a little and showed me some demon hospitality when I refused to share information with them.”

Fudging the truth for her sake. She could feel it. As usual, even now, he tried to protect her. “I don’t believe you.”

He took a moment to answer. “They didn’t like it when I refused to share every aspect of Coven business and our dealings with the Duskoff.”