Adam held her closer. "Baby, everything about you is magick."

Claire roused in the morning to Adam returning to the hotel room. Between his teeth was a white bakery bag. In one hand he held several plastic shopping bags and in the other he had a cardboard holder with two coffee cups. He set everything on the table. "I got you some new underwear."

She sat up, letting the blankets fall away. Claire hid a smile at the way Adam's gaze roved her bare breasts hungrily. "And coffee."

He picked up the white bag. "And doughnuts. I figured they'd go well with the pizza we had last night. We have to make sure all four food groups are represented in our diet—fat, sugar, carbs, and caffeine."

She smiled. "Excellent."

Adam walked to the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he went. "I'm going to hit the shower. Let me know if I bought the right stuff for you." He disappeared past the doorway.

Claire stared at the closed door. Adam's mask was firmly back in place this morning. Now she could easily recognize it. Something was bothering him, but he didn't want her to see what it was.

The man wore his emotions on his sleeve, but he didn't think he did. Adam obviously thought his mask was seamless, no cracks at all. And perhaps he had managed to hide himself and his feelings from his fellow witches all this time.

But she could feel the darkness in him and see it in his eyes. She saw it pass over his face in unguarded moments and could hear it in his voice. Adam kept secrets, ones he didn't want anyone to know.

She slid from the bed and wandered over to the bags. He'd bought her a few changes of clothes, not just underwear—a couple pairs of jeans, a couple sweaters, a few shirts, and some socks. There were three sets of soft, satiny pajamas, plus various sundries—toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, and the like.

He'd also purchased many pairs of panties and several bras, all silk and lace, feminine ones like she'd selected the first day they'd gone shopping.

Had he understood her need to feel such soft, girly articles of clothing against her skin? After so many years of serviceable gray Atrika underclothing, the frothy bits of almost nothing available to women here seemed downright decadent—lovely. Or maybe Adam was simply being a man, and hadn't thought past what he wanted to see on her. Claire could hope it was the former. Adam was insightful enough to manage it.

She stuffed the clothing back into the bag. Houses, she was thinking way too much about Adam and his intentions toward her. Under the current circumstances, such frivolities hardly mattered. Why was she even wondering about this? She had a demonic weapon inside her and two Atrika on her tail.