“Where you can what?”
“Where I know you’re safe,” he said. “Where I don’t have to wonder.”
I looked around the bathroom. Everything pristine and expensive and controlled. The luxury products he probably had stocked somewhere in the Tower. The towel wrapped around me that was softer than anything I owned.
Then I thought about my apartment. The small, ordinary space where I had spent eight years being patient. About going back there now, alone, jumping at sounds, wondering if someone was coming.
The echo of Gideon’s touch from moments ago lingered – the warmth of it, the specific way the bond had roared between us – but safety felt more pressing now than desire, even if the two were becoming increasingly difficult to separate.
“What would staying here actually mean?” I asked. “What wou
