Evan's mood swings were unpredictable. I didn't know whether he would wake up angry or blissful, whether he would slide out of bed to take an angry phone call or stay wrapped around me after a perfect cup of banshee weed tea.
But there was one good change after Osborn's funeral a week and a half ago. Evan had slowly become accustomed to leaving me at the Scarlet manor alone for a couple of hours at a time. He never dared leave the city itself so he could come racing back to me in case anything happened, but the dark rage and fear that he would lose me had softened its edge.
I was grateful for it. I hated having him leave me even for those one or two hours at a time, but having a moment to breathe in the day and talk to Rafael on the phone was a relief. I had no one else I could vent to.
