Disclaimer: The characters and world are from the Cassandra Palmer Series by the wonderful Karen Chance.

No Place Like Home

I rolled onto my back and thrashed around until I managed to kick the bed sheets off. The dream had been bad. Full of dark images of weeping women, blood and fire, the accusing eyes of children. It wasn't a Vision, though it certainly had enough horror in it to qualify. I forced myself to slow my breathing, inhaling the still air of the overheated room and exhaling my terror to a slow count of five.

I hadn't had a good night's sleep in over a week. The dreams were getting worse each night. I wanted to sleep so badly right now I could cry, but after that nightmare, I knew I wouldn't fall asleep before morning.

Maybe I'd been too quick to move out of Mircea's suite?

I forced myself to seriously consider the question. What was I really missing - Mircea's skilled seduction techniques or his master vampire's ability to drop me into the blissful oblivion of a dreamless sleep? Or maybe, a small voice inside me finally spoke up, I was missing a certain bad-tempered war mage who had been my partner before he up and took off.

I was spared having to think about my answer when the glass bottles I'd carefully stacked in front of the door before going to bed clattered to the floor. Magical door wards might be a more professional method of detecting intruders, but I was all out of powerful mages I could trust. Empty beer bottles from Dante's recycling bin had just warned me someone had opened the locked door to my room.

Before I could scream like a little girl, a dark shape was on me, and a large hand covered my mouth. I bit down on that hand as I pulled my 9 mm, Pritkin's last gift to me, out from under the pillow.

I got a shot off, but must have missed because my gun arm was suddenly pinned to the pillow, and Pritkin's furious voice was hissing in my ear. "Bloody hell! Shift to my house. Now!"

Pritkin! He was back! My relief had already turned to fury by the time I shifted us to the guest bedroom I'd used the last time I was there.

My aim was off here, too. We appeared about a foot over the bed. Pritkin's hard body landed on top of mine, and my breath was knocked out of me with a whoosh. He still had an iron grip on my gun arm, but at least his hand wasn't on my mouth anymore. I think I bit him pretty hard.

"Pritkin? What the hell?"

He didn't immediately answer. Green eyes stared into mine. I was suddenly very aware I was in my nightgown, which just so happened to be one of Pritkin's old T-shirts. His gaze slide down my body to where the hem of the faded green shirt had ridden up, exposing my white silk panties. When he finally answered, his voice was rough, "We have a problem with the Dark Mages." And with that he rolled off me and started for the door without looking back. "I need some coffee."

I raced after him, but he was almost halfway down the stairs before I reached the top of the landing. I should have slowed down, but I was too angry to think straight. The stairs in the old farmhouse were wood, polished with the years to a slick finish. My socks slipped on the top step and with a screech I was falling down the stairs. And into the solid wall that was Pritkin who had turned instantly at my cry. He held me tightly, the length of my body pressed to his only a moment or two longer than necessary. With a low growl in his throat he set me down and pushed me away, deliberately putting space between us. He let loose one of his usual colorful curses and continued down the stairs.

"Pritkin!" I yelled at his rapidly disappearing back, a little dizzy and shivering at the sudden cold without him. "What's going on?"

I followed him into the large, bright kitchen. It was well past midnight in Vegas, but here in Pritkin's house in England, the sun was up. I scowled at the light and scowled at Pritkin starting a pot of coffee brewing.

He didn't meet my eyes. "There's a Black Circle plot to kidnap you."

That was it? He was gone for weeks, appears out of the blue, and-

"Well, they can just get in line," I grumbled as I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. "What's so special about this plot, anyway?"

He turned to the kitchen cabinets, opening and slamming doors in his search for a coffee mug. "What did Marsden do, rearrange everything?" He said to himself more than to me. With his back turned I had a chance to get a good look at him. Damn. The man looked good in jeans. I watched his muscles flex inside the faded denim as he reached for a mug on a high shelf.

Pritkin filled his cup without waiting for the entire pot to brew. He sat across the table from me and closed his eyes as he took a long sip.

I was about to give him a hard time about his caffeine addiction, but closed my mouth. He was tired. Tired like I rarely saw him. Dark shadows were under his eyes, and he had a death grip on that mug.

"What's so special about this plot?"

"It's real, and it's in motion. The Black Circle has their best agents assigned to bring you in." Pritkin took another swallow of coffee. "We can stay here a day, maybe two, before we need to move again."

Great. Just great. Pritkin was exhausted, and I was so tired from a week of no sleep that I was having trouble seeing straight. A chill shook me as I pushed my chair back from the table. "I need some coffee. It's freezing in here."

Of course the coffee mugs were on the top shelf. Even on my toes, I couldn't quite snag a handle.

It's always the little things that get to me the most. I leaned my forehead against the open cabinet door and focused on breathing nice and steady.

What was one more plot against me anyway? Those were so common nowadays it was getting a little tough to keep track of them all. Even Pritkin's abrupt return and my body's traitorous happiness at him being back weren't weirding me out like I would've expected. No, I was so tired of not being able to control anything in my life that I was standing here about to have a panic attack because I couldn't reach my own damn coffee mug.

I took a deep shuddering breath. Well, that was not happening today. I shifted to stand on the counter and wobbled only a moment before steadying myself and plucking a coffee mug off the top shelf. Triumphant, I turned around to find Pritkin standing right there. I mostly muffled my scream, but lost my grip on the mug. He easily caught it in the air. One day I would learn how he moved so silently.

"Here." He handed me my mug. "Since when do you drink coffee?"

"It's working so well for you, I thought I'd try it."

Pritkin frowned but didn't say anything. Instead he put his hands on my hips and lifted me off the counter as easily as if I weighed no more than a box of cereal. As he was lowering me to the floor he paused with my chest at the same level as his eyes. "This is my shirt."

He held me effortlessly in front of him. Suddenly, I was very aware of the strength in his arms and shoulders. Of how the muscles in those arms were corded into sharp ridges. I was reminded of how strong he was. I crossed an arm across my chest. I was also aware that the cold and the thin T-shirt made it very obvious I wasn't wearing a bra.

"You weren't using it." Well, that didn't sound defensive. "Casanova needed your room. I boxed up the stuff you left behind before he could throw it out." I left out the part where breathing in the scent of him that lingered on his old shirt could sometimes make it easier for me to sleep. "Do you always leave your dirty laundry when you move on?"

"Generally, yes."

It was my turn to frown at him. "Are you going to put me down?"

He paused for a moment, as if this was something he had to think about, before slowly lowering me the rest of the way down. I was standing so close that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. It was all I could do not to lean into that hard heat. His hands stayed on my hips. I could tell when he realized they were still there. He took my mug from me and growled, "You don't want to start this habit."

"Hey! I need that!" I wanted to sound tough but the whole body shiver that hit me when he started to move away sort of ruined the effect.

"You need sleep. There's time for you to get a couple of hours before we have to plan our next move."

"We?" I tried to raise an eyebrow. Since when did Mr. Disappearing Act include me in his plans?

"I swore an oath, Miss Palmer, to keep you safe."

So we were back to Miss Palmer. Fine. I was so tired and angry I didn't even bother to correct him. "If you could just find me something warm to wear, I'd call us even."

He looked me up and down. "Fine," he said in the clipped tone I was used to from him. He grabbed my arm and started leading me back upstairs.

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