She was too precious, too vulnerable in a world filled with hidden dangers. She was a treasure worth preserving at any cost. And she was... not his. Damn, but it took some effort to remember that, especially after last night. They'd spent an incredible evening together, making love in the living room overlooking the Atlantic, then again upstairs, on the four-poster bed in the palatial room that had been Claire's when she was a young woman living in her grandmother's house. And yet another time before daybreak this morning, after she'd gotten up to ensure that all the blinds and curtains were drawn tight to protect him from the sun. He'd have liked to have followed her into the shower before she left to run her errands, but she'd gently chided him to pace himself, that they would have plenty of time together. But they didn't have that luxury, and he knew it. It was easy to imagine that their reunion--this respite in an idyllic setting, without the constant reminders of the darkness they'd left behind in Germany-- could go on forever. It couldn't. As good as it felt to be with Claire again, they couldn't stay in Newport together for long. Until Roth was found and eliminated, she needed to be somewhere protected and well out of his reach. She wasn't going to like it, but so long as Roth was alive and able to get his hands on her, she needed to be placed under the guard of the Order. The sooner the better. As for Reichen, each minute he wasn't looking for Roth was an opportunity for the bastard to dig in deeper wherever he was and continue his presumed machinations alongside Dragos. Reichen knew he should be spending every breathing moment and exhausting every effort to hunt Roth down.
Vengeance still burned in his belly and his issue with Wilhelm Roth would not be forgiven simply because he had Claire to warm his heart and his bed. Roth could not be permitted to continue breathing when he was evil to his core. Nor so long as he might decide to punish Claire for letting herself be pulled back into Reichen's life again. With that grave thought fueling him, he took out the cell phone Tegan had given him and pressed the last number in the speed dial queue. The number rang twice before Gideon's British-tinged accent came on the line. "Talk to me," he said, chipper despite the intrusion on his morning. "It's Reichen. I apologize for not phoning last night." "No worries. Where are you?" Naked from his recent shower, he leaned back on a shrouded chair. "Newport, Rhode Island." "You find your female?" "Yes," Reichen answered, not bothering to clarify that she wasn't, in fact, his at all. "Everything is fine. Claire is safe, and so am I. Have you found anything yet on Roth?"
"Nothing yet, but we're working on it. I'm running down a couple of international leads right now. Trust me, we want to get this bastard as badly as you do. He may be our most solid link to Dragos at the moment, so we're hitting hard on every bit of intel we can gather on him." As Gideon spoke, Reichen considered the fact that he should be there with the warriors, digging into every clue on Roth's whereabouts and helping them flush the son of a bitch out. He was eager to do just that, his palms itching with the need to choke the life out of Roth for all he'd done. "So, what's the story over there in Newport?" Gideon asked.
"You gonna be delayed there for a while yet?" "No," he said, even though he'd been torn between what his heart wanted him to say and what his duty demanded. "No more delaying. I need to smooth a few things out on this end, but Claire and I can be ready for pickup later tonight if that can be arranged." "No problem. I can have one of the guys there about an hour after sundown." Reichen scowled, calculating the short span of hours that would leave him for breaking the news to Claire that he was going to be yanking her out of her home. Again. "I may need a bit more time than that, Gideon. Claire doesn't know I've called you, or that she's going to be leaving Newport tonight. She's just left one gilded cage; I have a feeling she won't be eager to be put into another one." "Ah." The warrior blew out a shallow sigh. "Hence the smoothing out of a few things, eh? Well, good luck with that." "Right," Reichen replied, knowing it was a conversation he had to have with Claire eventually, but dreading it all the same. "I'll be in touch later about scheduling that pickup." As he disconnected the call, the front door lock slid open. Claire came in, cautiously peering inside the house to make sure he wouldn't be in the path of the light that spilled in around her. "Hi," she said, smiling as she closed the door and he stood to greet her. "You're naked." "And you should be," he said, struck by how rapidly his body responded to just the sight of her. "How was the shopping?"
"Successful." She lifted two filled grocery bags in one hand and an armful of department store bags in the other. "One of these bags is for you," she said, holding up the one bearing a men's clothing store logo.
"One is a set of sheets and pillows, and the rest is for me. I can't wait to put on something fresher than these stale old things from home." Reichen walked toward her, his intentions blatantly clear. "I think I should help you." Her answering smile was quicksilver and playful. It killed him that he was going to have to take that away from her. "You'll have to catch me first." She dropped the groceries in the foyer and bolted for the stairs with the clothing bags rustling at her side. Reichen lunged after her, taking one step to every three of hers. He caught her halfway up to the second floor. Her startled shriek dissolved into laughter... then, before long, the breathless moans and sighs of a woman well pleasured and fully sated.
That evening, as Claire toweled off from a long, hot shower, her body was still humming from the hours of lovemaking she'd spent with Andreas. She walked out of the en suite bathroom and found him lounging like a negligent king on the bed. One long, muscular leg was stretched out to the end of the mattress, the other bent casually at the knee. He was propped up on the pillows, his right arm tucked behind his head. The glyphs on his torso, arms, and thighs were still alive with color, but slowly muting toward the golden hue of his skin. And even at rest, his sex was impressive. She couldn't get used to seeing him naked; it always stopped her dead in her tracks so she could pause to admire him. The slow curve of his lips said he knew precisely what the sight of him did to her, and his male ego--not to mention other parts--were proud to be noticed so regularly and appreciatively.