One Bed

They left the Council under heavy guard.

The convoy wound through the city, then out onto the mountain road, and finally into the trees. By midnight, the black SUV rolled into a stone hunting lodge hidden among the pines, one of Adrian's oldest safehouses.

"It's secure," Lucas had promised on the phone. "Four guards on the perimeter. Silver wire in the walls. Nobody gets in who isn't invited."

It was beautiful. Warm firelight. Thick rugs. A kitchen stocked with food.

It had exactly one bed.

"There are two guest rooms," Elena said.

"One has a broken pipe," said the housekeeper, apologetic. "And the other is being aired."

"Noah can sleep in the small room."

"The small room is a closet, miss."

Elena looked at Adrian.

He was very carefully not looking at her. "I'll take the couch."

"The couch is too short."

"I've slept on worse."

"You'll wake up crippled."

"Then I'll be a crippled king."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. We'll share."

Silence.

His eyes lifted to hers. Slow, dark, intent.

"We'll share," she repeated, with great dignity. "A bed. With Noah in the middle. As a barrier."

"A barrier," Adrian said.

"Yes."

"A five-year-old."

"A very effective barrier."

His mouth curved. He said nothing.

Later, when the fire had burned low and Noah lay curled between them like a small, warm wall, Elena lay on her side and stared at the dark ceiling. She could hear every breath Adrian took. She could feel the heat of him across the bed.

"You're not sleeping," he said quietly.

"Neither are you."

"No."

A long silence.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Anything."

"The five years I was gone. Did you..." She stopped. Started again, quietly. "Did you ever..."

"No."

"You don't know what I was going to ask."

"I know." His voice was soft in the dark. "No. There was no one. There wasn't going to be."

Her heart thudded.

"Not even Seraphina?"

"Especially not Seraphina." A faint, dry laugh. "She asked once. I told her the truth. That my wolf wouldn't permit it. That I belonged to a woman who might never come back, and I'd rather wait forever than take something that wasn't hers."

Elena's eyes stung.

"That's the loneliest thing I've ever heard."

"It wasn't loneliness." His voice dropped. "It was faith. I just didn't know what I was waiting for."

She closed her eyes. For a long moment she was afraid to speak.

"I didn't forget you," she said at last. "Even when I couldn't remember. Every night, I dreamed of someone holding me. I used to wake up with my hand on the other side of the bed, looking for him."

"Elena."

"I'm not saying I forgive you."

"I know."

"I'm saying I never stopped looking, either."

She heard him breathe in, long and shaky.

Across the sleeping child, in the dark, his fingers found hers. She didn't pull away.

Neither of them spoke again.

At dawn, Noah woke first. He rolled over, grabbed his stuffed rabbit, and made a small, sleepy noise of annoyance.

"It's broken," he said, shaking it.

"Let me see," said Elena, sitting up.

The rabbit's ear was torn. A tiny black square the size of a button peeked from the seam, wires curling out like hair.

Her stomach dropped.

Adrian took it from her gently and turned it over in his large hand. His face turned to ice.

"It's a tracker," he said.

"Where did he get that toy?"

"Lucian gave it to him," Noah said, yawning. "After dinner. He said it was a welcome present."