Dmitri bobbed his head to Phillips, grabbed my hand and tugged me from the room. I laughed as we nearly ran down several corridors before reaching his door. He looked back at me and I saw the first spark of hunger in his blue eyes.

His hand still curled around mine, Dmitri placed his other on the wall and murmured a short phrase I couldn’t catch. There was a flash of blue heat around the door, and it swung open. Dmitri let go of me and headed for a small table with a decanter of whiskey and a couple glasses. He poured and gulped down a generous portion, then another.

I looked around. Inside was spartan and clean, just as I had pictured it. But seeing Dmitri stare at me, then gulp down a third helping of whiskey, I was beginning to believe I could rumple the place, and him, up a bit.

“Ivy,” he said, he voice hoarse with nerves and drink.

“Hmm?”

“I…” he swallowed convulsively and looked from me to the bed.

Ahh, Mother, I wanted to ease the fear from his eyes.

So I crossed the room and kissed him.