"I did say I was sorry. And I never claimed it was smart." He raised the hot chocolate. "Do you want this or should I go?"

Logic railed against emotion. I thought of Ivy, knowing I wouldn't want to be alone in the same motel room with an angry vampire either. And there wasn't much sense in saving someone if you were going to let your partner take him apart the first chance she got.

"Come on in," I said, sounding like it was a concession.

"Thanks." It was a grateful whisper, his relief obvious. He handed me the hot chocolate and, using the side of the van to steady himself, stepped up and in. His pain amulet swung, and he tucked it behind his shirt as he straightened in the low height. I could tell by his stiff motions and his grimace that the amulet wasn't working to cover all the pain. I had only the one pain amulet left until I made more, and he'd have to ask for it.

Clearly cold, Nick shut the door, sealing us in the same darkness that I had been in before, but now it was uncomfortable. My hands on the hot chocolate, I sat dead center on the cot, forcing him to sit on the pile of boxes across from me. There was more room than before, because Ivy had dumped off Marshal's stuff at the high school pool, but it was still too close. Gingerly settling himself, Nick tugged his sleeves down to hide his shackle marks and set his clasped hands in his lap. For a moment the silence was broken only by the hush of traffic.

"I don't want to bother you," he said, watching me from under his fallen bangs.

Too late. "It's okay," I lied, crossing my legs at my knees, very conscious of the demon text beside me on the bed. I took a sip of hot chocolate, then set it on the floor. It was too early for me to be hungry. The silence stretched. "How is the amulet holding up?"

A relieved smile came over him. "Great, good," he rushed to say. "Some of the hair on my arms is starting to grow back. By this time next month I might look…normal."

"That's good. Great." If we managed to evade the Weres and live that long.

His eyes were worried as he glanced at the book beside me, taking up the space so he wouldn't. "Do you need any help with the Latin? I don't mind interpreting it for you." His long face scrunched up. "I'd like to do something."

"Maybe later," I said guardedly. My shoulders eased at his admission of uselessness. Ivy and Jenks were making a point to keep him out of everything, and it would have bothered me too. "I think I have a curse I can use. I want to talk to Ceri about it first."

"Rachel…"

Oh God. I've heard that tone before, usually coming out of me. He wants to talk about us. "If she says the imbalance won't be too bad," I rushed to say, "I'm going to move the magic from the focus to something else, so we can destroy the old statue. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Rachel, I—"

Pulse quickening, I tugged the demon book closer. "Hey, why don't I show you the curse. You could—" He moved, and my eyes jerked up. He didn't look dangerous, he didn't look helpless, he looked frustrated, as if he was screwing his courage up.

"I don't want to talk about the plan," he said, leaning over the space between us. "I don't want to talk about Latin or magic. I want to talk about you and me."

"Nick," I said, my heart pounding. "Stop." He reached for my shoulder, and I jumped, lashing out to block his hand before he could touch me.

Startled, he jerked away. "Damn it, Rachel!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were dead! Will you just…Will you just let me give you a hug? You're back from the dead, and you won't let me even touch you! I'm not asking to move in with you. All I want is to touch you—to prove to me you're alive!"

I let out my held breath, then caught it again. My head hurt. I did nothing as he shifted to sit beside me, moving the book out of the way. Our body weight slid us closer, and I shifted to face him, my knees forcing us apart.

"I missed you," he said softly, his eyes scrunched with old pain, and this time I did nothing as his arms went around me. The scent of cinnamon and flour filled my senses, instead of musty books and the snap of ozone. His hands were light, almost not there. I felt his body relax, and he exhaled as if he'd found a piece of himself. Don't, I thought, tensing. Please don't say it.

"Things would have been different if I had known you were alive," he whispered, his breath shifting the hair about my face. "I never would have left. I never would have asked Jax to help me. I never would have started this fool snatch. God, Rachel, I missed you. You're the only woman I've met who understands me, who I never needed to explain why. Hell, you didn't even leave when you found out I called up demons. I…I really missed you."

His hands clenched for an instant and his voice cracked. He had missed me. He wasn't lying. And I knew what it was like to be alone and the rarity of finding a kindred soul, even if he was screwed up. "Nick," I said, my heart pounding.

My eyes closed as his hands moved, pulling through my hair. I reached up, stilling them, bringing them back down to my lap. The memory of him tracing the lines of my face filled me. I remembered the touch of his sensitive fingers, following my jawline, running down my neck to follow the curves of my body. I remembered his warmth, his laughter, and his eyes sparkling when I twisted a phrase to mean something entirely new and naughty. I remembered the way he made me feel needed, appreciated for who and what I was, never having to apologize for it, and the contentment I found in sharing ourselves. We'd been happy together. It had been great.

And I made a good decision.

"Nick." I pulled away, my eyes opening when his hand brushed my cheek. "You left. I got myself together. I won't go back to where we were."

His eyes went wide in the low light. "I never left you. Not really. Not in my heart."

I took a breath and let it go. "You weren't there when I needed you," I said. "You were somewhere else. Stealing something." His expression went empty, and a flash of anger pressed my lips together, daring him to deny it. "You lied to me about where you were going and what you were doing. And you took Jenks's son with you. You turned him into a thief with your promises of wealth and excitement. How could you do that to Jenks?"

Nick's eyes were emotionless. "I told him it was a dangerous job and it didn't pay well."

"To a pixy, you live like a king," I snapped, feeling my heartbeat quicken.

"The familiar bond is broken. We can start over—"

"No." I shifted from him, feeling the betrayal again. Damn him. "You can't be part of my life anymore. You're a thief and a liar, and I can't love you."

"I can change," he said, and I groaned with disbelief. "I have changed," he said, so earnestly that I thought he might believe he had. "When this is over, I'll go back to Cincinnati. I'll get a noon to midnight job. I'll buy a dog. Get cable TV. I'll stop it all for you, Rachel."

His hands went out and took mine, and I looked at my fingers cradled between his long pianist hands, damaged and raw, but sensitive, enfolding mine as his arms had once protected me, kept me alive when I was bleeding my life out.

"I love you that much," he whispered. My head pounded, and he brought my fingers to his lips and kissed them. "Let me try. Don't throw this second chance away."

I couldn't seem to get enough air. "No," I said, voice low so it wouldn't tremble. "I can't do this. You won't change. You might believe you can, and maybe you will, but in a month, a year, you'll find something, and then it will be, 'Just one more, Ray-ray. Then I'll stop forever.' I can't live like that." My throat was tight and I couldn't swallow.

I pulled my eyes to his, reading in his shocked expression that he had been about to say that right now, that he still wanted to walk away from this with money in his pocket. That he may have meant everything he'd said, but also wanted to convince me to put my, Ivy's, and Jenks's life on the line for money. He was still running his damn snatch, even while knowing that if the statue wasn't destroyed, it would put my life in jeopardy.