“Until you have more evidence than a name she may or may not have used. I now consider the subject to be dropped. Understood?”
“Understood,” I said, then wet my lips. “Do you trust me?”
His gaze went a little more seductive than I cared for. “Do I trust you?”
“It doesn’t sound like Darius wants me getting my hands dirty. But this is my job, and frankly, I’m kind of good at it.”
“Much to everyone’s surprise.”
I gave him a petulant face. “We know something weird is going on out there. If the rave scene is the way we get in and shut it down—the way we make sure vamps aren’t out there slaughtering humans en masse—then we go the rave route. I need to get out there again, and we need to keep pulling this string.”
“You cannot make an enemy of the GP. And not just because you’re a member of this House,” he preemptively added at my narrowed gaze. “I understand your impatience and I honor your commitment. But if they believe you stand against them, they will bring you down, Merit.
Their sovereignty is important. Celina lives because she hasn’t challenged that sovereignty; if you challenge it, you pose a direct threat to Darius and the others. And that will be the beginning of the end of you.”
“I know. But that’s not reason enough to allow them to tear the city apart.”
His expression—half sorrowful resignation, half pride—mirrored my own emotions. “I didn’t train you, invest in you, so that you could give yourself over to the GP as some kind of Windy City sacrifice.”
His voice was soft, earnest, but there was emotion in his eyes. Real emotion.
“I don’t intend to be a sacrifice. And I don’t intend to let you be one, either.”
He looked away. “They have an eye on the House. They’ll know what we’re doing.”
Here comes the kicker, I thought, bracing myself. “Not if you’re not involved.”
He paused, obviously startled, then leaned back in his chair. He might be nervous about the idea, but I’d piqued his interest. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I have powerful friends. Mallory.
Catcher. Gabriel. My grandfather. Noah.” Not to mention Jonah and the rest of the Red Guard. “I can work with them to accomplish what the GP won’t allow you to do.”
Frowning, Ethan sat up again and absently shuffled papers on his desk. After a moment, he shook his head. “If you’re working outside my authority, you also work outside my protection.
And if you do get caught, the GP won’t like the idea of an uncontrolled Sentinel running around Chicago.”
“But they’ll allow an uncontrolled former Master to run around Chicago?”
“She only killed humans,” he dryly reminded me. “You’re talking about challenging the GP.”
“I’m talking about doing what’s necessary, and what’s right. We’ve got humans picketing outside and a mayor who’s going to try God knows what against you and the House so he can make a name for himself. We’ve also got really pissed-off vamps who’ll start a fight without provocation just for the fun of doing it. Do you want them running around Chicago? Besides,” I quietly added, knowing what he needed to hear, “I’m stronger now than I was before. I’m more skilled now than I was before.”
He looked up at me, worry tightening his eyes.
God, I hated to see that worry. I hated what I’d done to put it there. And so I went to him, all reasons to the contrary. I slipped between his chair and the desk, and when he leaned toward me and rested his forehead on my abdomen, I slid my fingers into the thick golden silk of his hair.
“I’ll be careful.”
Ethan grunted and wrapped his hands around my waist. I ran my fingers through his hair—the same motion over and over again—and then traced my fingertips down his back. Gradually, I felt the tension leave his shoulders.
He looked up again, his eyes now lambent pools of green.
I smiled down at him. “You look drunk.”
“I feel . . . relaxed.”
I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t cross any more lines than I’d just vaulted, so I loosed his hands and stepped away, then moved around his desk and took a seat on the other side.
I figured I’d see irritation in his eyes when I looked back at him. For the second time, he surprised me. He was smiling—a kind of honest, humbled, sweet smile.
“Maybe I’m getting better at this?” he asked.
“Better at wooing you in the manner in which you should be wooed?”
I crossed one leg over the other and met his gaze. “My job is to ensure the sanctity of this House. Ensuring the sanity of its Master seemed like a good start.”
“Is that the story you’re sticking with?”
“That’s my answer.”
“I don’t buy it.”
I smiled thinly, eyes half-hidden beneath my lashes. “You don’t have to.”
“Hmmph,” he said, but he was clearly pleased by the repartee.
This time, he was the one who took the offensive. He stood and moved around his desk and toward me. I straightened up, every nerve in my body on alert as he approached. When he reached me, he took my hands, the same move Mayor Tate had used a couple of nights ago.
“I’m self-aware enough to admit that I prefer to be in control,” he said. “It is a consequence, I think, of the responsibility of maintaining this House. But I told you how I felt about you—”
“You didn’t, actually.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
I gave him a smile. “You told me you were beginning to remember how it felt to love someone. You didn’t make a confession specific to me.”
His lips tightened, but he was smart enough to ask the pertinent question. “Will it make a difference if I say that?”
“No. But a girl likes to feel appreciated.”
The only warning I had was the flash in his eyes before he moved, got down on his knees.
I froze, my stomach seizing. My teasing aside, a boy on his knees meant stuff I wasn’t going to be prepared to hear.
Ethan reached forward and slid a hand around my neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point he found there. “Merit, I lo—”