There was no denying the fireworks between them. There was an attraction; one that he was fairly certain was mutual. And the sex was good—no, good didn’t really come close to describing their sex life. Remarkable, maybe? Sizzling? Yes, that seemed rather an apt description, he mused as he knocked back another shot of tequila, a bright, burning blaze that consumed everything and left nothing but destruction in its wake.
 
Things had gone well, or as well as one could expect given the circumstances. They had left the prison with everything in place for Faith’s disappearance from the system; all traces of her existence were to be wiped completely, this was what his money had paid for, and what the sizable annual fee he was to pay into the numbered offshore account assured. From there they had made their way to the Hyperion. During their drive back to the hotel he had explained the unusual details of Connor’s birth, the prophecy, Holtz and the various other dangers that they could expect to encounter during the course of the boy’s dependency on them.
 
Once they’d reached the hotel they had of course encountered Angel, they had expected no less. Wesley had managed to distract him while Faith snuck around behind him, making short work of dispatching the vampire; his dust was settling on the lobby floor before he had even realised that the dark slayer was there.
 
They had gathered Connor and his essentials as quickly and quietly as possible, being sure not to awaken any of the hotel’s other occupants.
 
They’d driven all night and most of the next day, quickly forgoing the highway for the less frequented back roads. They’d driven in shifts taking turns at the wheel and in caring for the small, oft-times howling, bundle that somehow didn’t necessarily seem worth the effort when he was plastering the inside of the car with the regurgitated contents of a rather rapidly drained bottle of formula. Eventually they had pulled into a seedy little dive just around sunset. It was the sort of place where no one asked any questions and cash spoke loudly and clearly. The sort of place they had been calling home, with a few rare and pleasant exceptions, since their journey had begun.
 
No sooner had they entered the room and set the sleeping boy’s carry-cot down than Faith had launched herself at him, grabbing him by the shirtfront and throwing him to the bed. Straddling and disrobing him frantically before he could so much as move to object; not that objections were likely to have been forthcoming but the option would have been nice.
 
Nothing in his life had prepared him for Faith, for the sheer brutal intensity of her. She kissed with the urgency and desperation of someone about to face their last day on this earth. She was power, and passion and a rawness of spirit that called to him, sex with her was both undeniably fulfilling and at the same time it left him wanting—aching. She had ridden him like a wild thing that first night, a creature possessed. His memories of events were somewhat a blur beyond the mind-shattering pleasure she had meted out repeatedly until his body had finally succumbed to exhaustion. Upon waking the next day he had exacted his revenge, the ferocity of his need had merely excited her more. However, by the time they were both spent an unspoken agreement had been reached that in this aspect of their lives they were to be equals. Once that had been clearly established he’d had no qualms about allowing Faith the illusion of control.
 
Their everyday lives were much like their fucking; explosive, impulsive, filled with danger and never without turmoil. And lately they fought, not occasionally as they had since the beginning, but more and more regularly and over the most insignificant details. They fought about which exit to take; which hotel to stay in; where to eat. Mostly they fought about the boy. Faith felt it was time to find somewhere, to settle down and allow the child a semblance of normality. She claimed it had been long enough, that they were well off the radar by now. He knew better, that they would never be safe and that Connor would never lead a normal life. Regardless of how much Faith may want to try to give him one.
 
On the road, during daylight hours Faith’s arguments would burn, blazing with fury; his with cold, calculated detachment. At night their passion would be spent between the sheets.
 
That was what their lives had consisted of for the last seven months, travelling, fucking and arguing.
 
They’d fought again that evening, some trivial nonsense that they had both blown out of proportion. She had been complaining once again that he was always the one that got to scope the area, while she was the one left, quite literally, holding the baby. It made perfect sense to him; she was the slayer and was obviously far better equipped to protect Connor should one of his many enemies make an appearance. He’d finally had enough of arguing with her, and having grabbed his coat had left in search of a bar and some much needed solitude.
 
Now as he stood in the doorway of the hotel looking at the beautiful woman sprawled naked across their bed, her hand curled beneath her cheek, her hair fanning out around her as she slept peacefully, he felt a twinge of remorse for leaving her alone with the child. Perhaps tomorrow night they might stay in a nicer hotel, one of those with spa baths, room service and a sitting service and he could find a way to make it up to her. Perhaps.
 
He dropped his coat to the ground and turning, locked and bolted the door.  As he made his way to the bed, it occurred to him that as much as he might bemoan the fact, he rather liked playing with fire, after all.  

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