The last night at work had been a mess. One of the girls had ripped her costume only seconds before she had to take the stage, causing Samantha to have to do very quick needlework in order to save the day. She'd managed to push her on the stage only seconds late, her fingers sore from the amount of times she had pricked herself in the rushed action. The girl, of course, hadn't bothered to grunt out even an acknowledgment for Samantha's efforts. Despite her promotion to manager, so many of the girls still saw her as the girl whose entire job was to sew up and patch the costumes. Once she'd been done with that, she'd tended to the massive piles of papers on her desk. It was time for inventory and payroll at the same time, in addition to all the other things that she did on a daily basis. And if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed as though every two seconds someone was running up to have her approve something since Lyrica wasn't there for the evening.

By the time she'd gotten off work â€" two hours late â€" she'd wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch and attempt to talk Dorian into reading to her. She needed the relaxing time with her most favored companion. In the weeks that had passed since Dorian had decided to move in with her, Samantha had grown rather attached to the other faerie. It had been nice to come home to him, even if it so often meant that she would come home to answer a million questions that he'd learned over the day in his exploits in the apartment. After so many years of being alone, her time in Sacrosanct had provided her a new family. She had Aiden, of course, and Nadya and Raven. But now she had even grown to extend that love to Ivy and Dorian through the monarchy she'd created to protect both herself and each of them. Dorian, however, had quickly become the person that she spent the most time with.

So when she'd slid her key into the lock and let herself into the apartment, she'd immediately called out for him. It wasn't terribly uncommon for him to still be lounging on the couch when she came home. Though, given the late hour, she would have hardly been disappointed if he had already gone to sleep. So when he'd failed to answer her, she'd merely tossed her keys on the counter and had headed up to her own room. But when she'd reached the top of the stairs, she'd frozen in place at seeing Dorian's door still wide open. "Dorian?" She called out, stepping to move to his doorway. Seeing his bed still made made her body tense. "Dori?" She spoke louder, moving into his bedroom to look around for him. He wasn't in the bathroom, nor his closet. By the time she'd checked her own room for him, the girl had certainly grown a level of panic that had very nearly consumed her.

After searching the whole house for Dorian, the faerie queen had simply settled that there was nothing more that could be done tonight. After all, she had no way of tracking him. She had no way of contacting him â€" she had yet to figure out how to explain the necessities of a cell phone. No, she'd give him a few more hours before she panicked entirely. He'd probably just gotten lost on on of his late night wanders, right? He was absolutely safe. There was no way that he couldn't be, right? Though, the man had been attacked by a bicycle, so she didn't have resounding faith in his survival skills. No, no, she would relax. She would just wait for him to come back, and if he wasn't back in the morning, then she'd panic.

She must have fallen asleep waiting for him on his bed, the girl only roused by the sound of feet on the metal staircase. "Dori?" She whispered sleepily, pushing herself up to a sitting position on the mattress. She crossed her legs under her, rubbing her eyes as she watched the faerie man come into his room, discarding his shirt to the floor. She didn't speak, instead observing him to make sure he was â€" in fact â€" okay. He seemed okay, though he was a mess. His hair was askew, his jeans wrinkled and messy, shoes barely tied. Where had he... oh, oh. Had he possibly? But no, then there was the way her eyes travelled to his neck and the definite fang marks that had been punctured there.

She barely waited for his acknowledgement of her before she had launched herself to her feet, crossing the room to him. She doesn't acknowledge his tease, instead wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Where the hell have you been, Dorian?" She leaned into the hug, hardly caring if the man returned the gesture at all. "Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn't come home? I just told you about what Frost said. We have to be careful, you have to stay..." She shook her head. "If anything happened to you I'd..." The woman reached up to put her hand on his neck, fingers stroking the fang bites and the bit of dried blood that remained there. "Dorian, did you get bit?"