He didn't sleep, not even when the light outside filtered to darkness and enveloped the room in its inky, velvety protection. All through the night, he held her, ready to strike away any danger that came near, but no demons came but the ones he held inside himself.

Sometime just short of daylight, Claire shifted against him, roused, and opened her eyes. She gasped in pain and blinked.

"How do you feel?" Adam asked immediately, even though he knew from the gasp it couldn't be good.

She made a low sound. "My chest hurts. It feels like someone punched me there." Her voice sound rusty and rough. "How are the witches?"

"Last I heard, fine. I told Thomas to come get me if they were attacked. So far, nothing. Maybe your trick with the elium was more effective than we thought."

"Maybe." She paused. "The spell didn't work. I can still feel the elium inside me."

He kissed her temple. "Yeah, we know. Just try to relax now, okay? The spell Micah used really punched you a good one."

"Is Micah going to try again?"

He pressed his lips together. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

She said nothing for several moments, then turned to face him. Shadows played over the silken skin of her cheek and caught around the curve of her lip. "It's my only chance, Adam."

"He could've killed you."

She shook her head. "He didn't. You were there to stop him before he took it too far."

"What if next time I can't stop him before you really get hurt?"

"Adam, if the spell Micah brews up doesn't take the elium from me, the demons will do more than just hurt me. You know that. We have to be rational about this."

He pulled her close to him. "Yeah, well, let's just take it one moment at a time, okay? Micah hasn't even cooked up a new spell yet."

"It was wrong what you did back at the cabin, forcing me to come here and leaving them behind as bait." Her voice had gone hard and tight.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I did the best thing I could to keep you safe."

She lay unresponsive in his arms, not answering. Her breasts rested against his arm and the rise and fall of her breathing calmed him. Her presence was warm, comforting, a little arousing, too, if truth was told, even though he understood she was pissed at him.

His hands slid over her curves, gentling her, trying to make amends without using words. Her breathing hitched and she sighed, her breath warm against his chest. She snuggled in closer to him and her body gave up some of its rigidity.

He let his hands explore a little more until they were both breathing heavier and their bodies were growing warmer, tangling a bit closer.