“Swinging the door open, I took a sip. All of the coffee in the world wouldn't help if more visitors showed up at my door this early in the morning but the caffeine fortification was a bonus. The delivery guy pushed his clipboard at me. I held up my cup and raided my eyebrows.We had an entire conversation in the next seven seconds with our eyes and eyebrows.I told him that I wasn't giving up my coffee for his delivery. He told me that if I'd just sign on the damned dotted line he would get the hell out of here.I replied in turn that if he'd hold the clipboard instead of shoving it at me (I threw in a nod here for good measure), I'd sign the damned line.He finally sighed, turned the clipboard around and held the pen out.I braced the door with my hip, grabbed the pen and scrawled Wilma Flinstone on the paper.”

“A few moments later Mom opened my door and peered in at me. "Logan Hansen is here to see you."If it had been anyone else in the world, I would have told my mother to send him away. Santa Claus himself could have shown up to explain his whereabouts since my childhood, and I would have turned him out.”

“...I can’t help but throw myself at him, wrapping my body around his. I hear him laugh softly before I push my mouth hard against his, pulling a deep groan from him. I feel his arms wrap around me, holding me tight as he turns and backs us up against the closed door. I’m glad we’re alone in here..”

“Had he stood outside my door as I'd stood outside his, fists at his sides, lips drawn back? Did it have him as bad as it had me? Was it eating at him, gnawing at him with the same sharp vicious little teeth that wouldn't let me sleep? Yes, it was. I could see the rage of insatiable uninvited lust in every line of that dark, stoic face that had once been too subtly etched for me to read. I wasn't the only one lying awake at night, fevered with memories, tossing, turning, soaking my sheets, burning up--not for Fae sex, but him, damn it all to hell, him.”

“Opening my door to Dillon Ruddick, my bulding super. I handed him a cup of coffee. "Sorry about the blood." "What was it this time?" No one reported gunfire.""I hit a guy in the face with a hair dryer.""Whoa." Dillon said."It wasn't my fault," I told him."Maybe we should lay down some linoleum here. It would make things easier for clean up.”

“After he'd gone, I slammed the door shut and, after the day I had, wasn't the least bit surprised to see my closet door open and Whitley stick his head out."Son of hibachi," I muttered. Now I would have to add burning all of my clothes to my list of things to do."What?" He exited the closet with a smile. "I don't even get a hello?"I held up a finger. "Wait right here."He shrugged.I shut the door behind me and marched back into the living room and pointed at Dr. Wendell. "You. Come with me. Now."Wide-eyed, he rose from the couch and followed me to my door. Before I opened it, I turned to him. "You said part of your job was to protect me, right?"He nodded, his brow knit in lines of confusion."Just to prove how bad you suck at your job, look at this."I swung open the door and Whitley waved from his perch at the end of my bed.Dr. Wendell's mouth dropped and he took a step back. "Wait. What is-who is that?""That"-I gestured to the boy on my bed-"is Whitley, aka Zeami, aka the psycho who tried to kill me, steal my powers, and burnt down my house."Whitley smiled. "Guilty as charged."I folded my arms and glared at Dr. Wendell. "If you're supposedly protecting me, how could you let my past-life murderer walk right into my bedroom and hide out in my closet?"Dr. Wendell shook his head, his skin a shade paler than it had been moments ago. "But I-I didn't-how-" He looked at Whitley. "How did you get in here?"Whitley rolled his eyes. "Through the door. Duh."Dr. Wendell pushed me behind him, bringing his shaking fists in front of his face. "It doesn't matter. If you want to kill Rileigh, you're going to have to get past me.”