I tightened myself around him, heard his answering groan, and felt my own response shudder through me. The perfection of the moment faded in a sudden need to attain another kind of perfection, another perfect image of life.
"Now," I said. "Please."
Clay bent his face to mine and kissed me hard as he moved inside me. I felt the waves of climax building, tasted it in his kiss. I wrapped myself around him, legs twisting with his, arms pulling him against me. Just as I was about to lose myself in him, he broke the kiss and reached up, entwining his hands in my hair. He didn't pull his head back, but kept his face above mine, eyes so close I could see nothing but blue.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," he rasped. "If I lost you… I can't lose you."
I moved my hands to his hair and kissed him. Again he stopped in mid-kiss.
"Promise," he said. "Promise me you'll never take a risk like that again."
I promised and he bent his face to mine as we let all remaining vestiges of control slide away.
Jeremy rapped on the door before dawn penetrated the trees outside my window. Clay opened his eyes, but made no move to get up or even respond.
"I need you two downstairs," Jeremy said through the closed door.
I glanced over at Clay and waited for him to answer. He didn't.
"Now," Jeremy said.
Clay was quiet for another thirty seconds, then grunted "Why?" in a tone I'd never heard him use with Jeremy. It threw Jeremy off balance too, and for a few long seconds, he didn't answer.
"Downstairs," he said finally. "Now."
Jeremy's footsteps receded down the hall.
"I'm sick of it," Clay said, throwing the covers off and shoving them aside. "We're not getting anywhere. All we've done so far is chase our tails. Chase, run away, chase, run away. And where has it gotten us? It's killed Logan, killed Peter, it almost killed Jeremy, and almost killed you. Now you're in danger and he'd better be planning to do something about it."
"I am," Jeremy's voice floated up from the stairway. "That's why I'm asking you to come downstairs."
Spots of red flared in Clay's cheeks. He'd forgotten Jeremy could hear him as well from the bottom of the stairs as from the bedroom door. He mumbled something that sounded apologetic and got out of bed.
Antonio and Nick were already in the study, grazing from a plate of cold meats and cheeses. As we walked in the door, Jeremy was laying out coffees by the sofa for us.
"I know you're worried about Elena, Clayton," Jeremy said as we settled in. "We all are. That's why I'm sending her away. Today."
"What?" I sat up sharply. "Wait a minute. Just because last night gave me a bit of a scare, it doesn't mean-"
"You weren't the only one given a scare last night, Elena. Daniel has targeted you and now it seems this LeBlanc has done the same. One wants to capture you. The other wants to kill you. Do you honestly think I'm going to sit back and wait to see which one succeeds? I've lost Logan and I've lost Peter. I won't take the remotest chance of losing anyone else. I made a mistake yesterday in letting you go with us after I knew Daniel wanted you. I'm not making another mistake by letting you stay one day longer."
I glanced at Clay, expecting him to protest as well, but he was holding his mug of coffee halfway to his lips, staring into its dark depths like a fortuneteller searching for answers in the bottom of a teacup. After a moment, he put the mug down, untasted. Even Jeremy looked over at him and paused, waiting for an argument that didn't come.
"Great," I said. "One panic attack and I'm a liability to be stashed away for safekeeping. Do I get to know where you're going to hide me? Or can't I be trusted with the information?"
Jeremy continued in the same even tone. "You're going to the last place the mutts would expect to find you. Back to Toronto."
"And what the hell am I supposed to do there? Hole up someplace by myself while the men fight the battle?"
"You won't be by yourself. Clay's going with you."
"Whoa!" I leapt to my feet. "You're kidding, right?" I turned to Clay. He hadn't moved. "Didn't you hear that? Say something, damn it."
Clay said nothing.
"What are we supposed to do in Toronto?" I asked. "Hide in a hotel room?"
"No, you'll do exactly what you normally do. You'll go back to your apartment, resume your job if you like, pick up the old routines. That's what will keep you safe. Familiarity. You know your apartment building, the routes you walk, the restaurants and stores you frequent. You'll be better able to spot potential danger than you would in an unfamiliar setting. And you'll be comfortable."
"Comfortable?" I sputtered. "I can't take Clay back to my apartment. You damn well know I can't."
Clay's head jerked up, as if snapped out of a deep sleep. "Why can't you?"
As I met his eyes, I realized he didn't know I was living with Philip. I opened my mouth to say something, but the look on his face froze the words in my throat.
"You'll have to get rid of him," Jeremy said. "Call him and tell him to leave."
"Get rid of who? Call-" Clay stopped. A sick look passed over his face. He stared at me for one long moment. Then he got to his feet and walked from the room.
Now, Jeremy had more talents than any person I knew and he was better at each of them than any person I knew. He could speak and translate in over a dozen languages, he could splint a broken bone so it healed as good as new, he could paint scenes I couldn't even imagine, and he could stop a two-hundred-pound charging wolf with a look. But he didn't know shit about romantic relationships.
"Thank you," I said after Nicholas and Antonio slipped out. "Thank you very much."
"He knows about this man," Jeremy said. "I assumed he knew about your living arrangement."
"And in case he didn't? You decided to humiliate him in front of Nick and Tonio?"
"I said, I thought he knew."
"Well, he does now, and you'll have to deal with it. He's not coming to Toronto with me, if I go at all."
"You are and he is. As for this man, he moved in with you, didn't he? It was your apartment first."
I didn't ask how Jeremy knew this. Nor did I answer.
"Then you can ask him to leave," Jeremy said.
"Just pick up the phone, call him and tell him I'll be home later today and I want him gone by then?"
"I don't see why not."
I gave a harsh laugh. "You don't dump someone you've been living with by phone. You don't sever all ties at a moment's notice. You don't give him a few hours to clear out of the apartment, not without damn good reason."
"You have a good reason."
"That's not-" I stopped and shook my head. "Let me put this in a way you'll understand. If I call him and tell him it's over, he won't leave. He'll want an explanation, and he'll stay until he's satisfied with it. In other words, he'll cause trouble. Is that a good enough reason?"