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“I don’t care what he wants!” a voice yelled. “I am not moving her!”

Her body ached all over. Like someone had sat on her chest and crushed her ribs in. Her fingers and toes tingled as if they were coming back online. Her head pounded.

And yet she was comfortable. The bed she was in was warm and soft and pliant. It smelled like rain and soap. She could have buried her nose in it and inhaled. For some reason, it was like coming home.

Her eyes peeled open slowly to take stock of where she was. Unfamiliar.

Everything was unfamiliar.

She stiffened when she didn’t recognize the bed or the room or anything inside of it.

The space was all exposed red brick and floor-to-ceiling windows with long, gauzy drapes.

The bed was a mahogany four-poster with an olive comforter and crisp white sheets.

A desk sat against one wall, covered with old dusty tomes and a large ledger.

The door next to it was cracked to reveal a bathroom.

She focused on the present. She was in a stranger’s bedroom. It smelled like summer and looked like…an old Brooklyn warehouse.

The pieces began to slot into place. She gasped and tried to jerk upright. Her body screeched in pain at the overuse, and she flopped backward.

She was in Lorcan’s bed.

She was in Lorcan’s bed.

Oh, fuck, she was in Lorcan’s bed !

How long had she been here? What was she doing here? What the fuck had happened?

She didn’t remember exactly. Only that she was in a long, white button-up that must belong to him.

Had he changed her? Oh dear God, she’d need to process that some other time.

At least the other side of the bed looked unslept in.

She must have had the bed to herself. She fucking hoped she’d had it to herself.

Gingerly this time, she righted her body, waiting for the pounding in her head to slow to a small pulse. Then she kicked her feet to the side and tried to stand, holding onto one of the posts for support.

At first her head swam, but slowly her vision cleared. Pieces of the night came back to her. The triskel training. Magic sharing. Ethan.

Oh.

Ethan had drained her magic. Accidentally. She didn’t think he’d known how to do it on purpose. Yet he’d still done it.

“Yeah, you can tell him to go fuck himself!”

Kierse narrowed her eyes. Lorcan. That was Lorcan.

And if he was arguing with someone…that meant…

“Graves,” she whispered.

She was halfway across the room when the door creaked open again and Lorcan padded forward on silent feet. He froze at the sight of her standing in the middle of the room in nothing but an oversize button-up.

“You’re awake,” he said, his eyes traveling down her legs.

“Is he here?”

He huffed. “No. Even he isn’t that stupid.” Kierse took a step toward the door and then stumbled. Lorcan was there an instant later, catching her. “You should be in bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You just fell walking.”

Her head felt fuzzy all over again at the feel of his hands. She wanted him to stop, but at the same time it did steady her.

“How did I end up in here?”

“After you collapsed, I carried you up here.”

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours. It’s just past dawn,” Lorcan said, guiding her back to the bed.

She took a seat if for no other reason than to get away from his distracting hands. But now he was standing over her while she was in his shirt, the hem dragging up her thighs. His eyes gleamed with devotion and desire.

“How are you really feeling?” he asked, concern sweeping away everything else.

She cleared her throat. “Like I hit magic burn by way of a trainwreck.”

“Been there.” Then as if he couldn’t help himself, he pushed her hair back behind her ear and said, “You know if we were bound, I could replenish you.”

“I can replenish myself,” she told him, brushing his hand aside.

He heaved a long breath and stepped back. “All right. I can have some soup and bread brought in.” He walked to a side table and poured her a glass of water. She took it from him. “How do you recharge?”

“Stealing.”

He chuckled. “That sounds right. Well, once you can walk on your own, have at it.”

“Can’t I reabsorb what Ethan took?”

He frowned at the question. “Well, for one, you can’t relink without the full moon. Two, you don’t have any magic to link with at this point.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I didn’t know you could absorb consciously. I thought it was still a passive power for you.”

“I’ve been practicing. Turn it on, turn it off like a switch,” she told him in between sips of water.

He tilted his head. “Why would you need to turn it off?”

“Because sometimes I’m going to hit magic burn and people are going to be able to use their magic against me,” she reminded him, gesturing to herself. “Like right now. So it’s best to be prepared.”

“All the more reason not to let you leave anytime soon.”

She knew what he meant—more reason not to let Graves in her head. If he only knew.

“How are Gen and Ethan?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Sleeping and exhausted. Ethan burned off a lot of the magic right away. So he’s fine, but Gen stayed up and watched over you until Niamh made her sleep.” He refilled her glass of water. “And you should curl back into my bed and do the same.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’d be happy to join you.”

She rose to her feet unsteadily. “I’m going to head out. You get that sleep. You don’t look like you slept at all.”

“I didn’t. I watched over you the entire time.”

She flushed at the comment. She needed to leave. Nothing good could come from staying another minute in Lorcan’s bedroom.

“Do you have my clothes?”

“If I tell you I destroyed them, will you keep wearing my clothes?”

He ran a hand along the collar. Her legs felt like jelly. She needed to find out how to get out of this building and to a subway. Fuck, she couldn’t ride a subway in this state. She couldn’t brave a troll.

“Stay,” he pleaded. “You’re not well.”

A part of her wanted to listen to him. To fall back into that spring rain and let the summer sunshine lull her into submission, but she couldn’t. So she shook her head, not trusting the words that might come out of her mouth right now.

He sighed and retrieved her clothes, offering them to her. “You’re not a prisoner.”

“You sound so convincing,” she joked as she padded into his bathroom.

She slid out of his shirt, leaving the soft cotton on the counter and pulling her leggings and tank back on. They felt dirty and constricting in comparison. She forced herself not to look back at the shirt she should never have been wearing.

Her phone had been stashed inside the pile of clothes, and she cringed as she turned the thing back on and saw it light up with texts and calls from Graves.

She jotted out a quick message, letting him know she was fine and on her way back now.

The phone immediately rang in her hand. With a sigh, she answered, “Hey.”

“I’m on my way,” Graves said. “Where should I pick you up?”

“Do you really think you should drive through Druid territory?”

“Do you think I give a fuck?”

“No,” she muttered.

“Where are you right now?”

She bit her lip. “I’m not sure, actually. I’m in Lorcan’s bathroom.”

Graves was silent a moment. “I know where his building is. I’ll meet you downstairs as soon as George gets us across the bridge.”

He’d been waiting. Her heart warmed at that thought. She figured if it had been anyone other than Lorcan, he would have already barged in and rescued her.

“See you soon.” She hung up the phone and exited the bathroom.

“He’s on his way?” Lorcan asked with distaste.

“Could you two put your hate on hold for a minute?”

Lorcan shot her a look that said that was never happening. “Don’t ever forget what he’s capable of.”

“I don’t,” she told him as she pocketed her phone. “Nor what you are.”

“I’d never hurt you.”

Kierse almost believed him. Almost.