Page 118 of Black to Light

It would be dangerous, though.

Jem would likely just push the pilots of the commercial flight to ignore any conflicting orders they got from the ground. If the military decided to make that into a terrorist situation, they might send fighters after them. They might do it without telling Black, and whether Black wanted them to or not, and maybe before Black could stop them through other means.

If Jem couldn’t push all ofthosepilots effectively, the whole thing might end with the commercial plane being shot down somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

“Let them go,” Black said.

He looked at me, gold eyes glinting in the plane’s interior lights.

It was dark outside the oval windows now, as we flew east to chase the night. That meant the shades were all open, even the ones right next to where Nick sat.

Most of the team hung over tablets and laptops, and a few of the seers were in the Barrier, liaising with Yarli and the seers we left back in San Francisco. A few, including Dog and Holo, were sitting on the velvet purple couches and talking in low voices.

No one I saw had managed to get any sleep.

“I guess we’re taking that trip to France after all, baby,” Black grunted, giving me a flat smile. He glanced at Nick with a faint scowl. “Still think your fucking sire doesn’t have anything to do with this, vampire boy?”

Nick only glowered back, silent, but I got the sense he didn’t exactly disagree.

He did aim one look at me, and it wasn’t hard to discern its meaning.

No one was hurting Dalejem while he was there.

No one, not even Black.

Not even me.

I gave him a short nod, letting him know I was one hundred percent on his side in that.

Only then did the crystal eyes shift away, until Nick stared out at the night.

Afirm, gentle hand shook me awake. I’d curled up in the oversized, green, fuzzy chair, and fallen dead asleep. I had no idea when that happened, but it was difficult to pry open my eyes.

“We’re here,” Black murmured. “Wheels down in fifteen.”

I blinked up at him, and managed to nod.

He leaned down unexpectedly, and startled me by kissing me on the cheek, then even more by kissing me on the neck, pausing briefly to slide his tongue along the muscle. He kissed me again, right at a sensitive spot where my neck and shoulder met, then raised his head. He nuzzled my face with his five o’clock shadow and sighed.

I looked up at him, feeling my throat close a little when I saw the tired but faintly tense look in his eyes. A ripple of separation pain came off him, and I fought down my own.

It hit me just how long it had been since we’d been alone.

Really alone.

Black bent even closer, putting his lips to my ear.

“Way too goddamned long, doc,” he whispered.

I shivered, but fought to smile.

“I told you I wanted a house,” I reminded him.

“That’ll be a priority when we get back.” He said it fiercely, like a promise. “It’s been bumped to number one on the list, once we get back from this fucking nightmare.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, other than I agreed.

I pushed off the blanket someone––probably Black––had put over me while I slept, letting go of where I’d been clutching it to my chest. I kicked it off my legs and feet next, and stretched my arms. I felt another flush of heat and separation pain from Black as he watched my back curve into a stretch, my arms up over my head.

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