“How was the Commendation?” Catcher asked, then leveled an amused glance at me. “Any surprises?”
“I did nothing,” I said, grabbing an uneaten pickle from the flat of fries in front of Ethan.
“She wreaked havoc.” A smile tipped one corner of Ethan’s mouth.
I grinned at Mallory. “He’s just jealous that I can withstand his call.”
“I have no idea what that means,” she said, grinning back, “but I’m thrilled to hear it.”
“Can she?” Catcher asked Ethan.
“She can.”
“And you named her Sentinel.”
Ethan nodded. “On the expectation that you’ll continue to work with her, to prepare her for that duty. You do have the expertise, after all. Your . . . unique brand of instruction would be invaluable.”
Catcher paused for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll work with her. Teach her. For now.” He shifted his gaze to Ethan. “And that instruction will fulfill the debt I owe.”
The debt he owed? There was definitely a good story there.
Another pause while Ethan considered Catcher’s offer. “Agreed.” He folded his arms over his chest, and slid me a dubious glance. “We’ll see if she can rise to the occasion, do what needs to be done.”
I gave Mallory a pointed look. “We’ll see if she can manage not to kill her Liege and Master, especially if he continues talking about her like she’s not in the room.”
She snickered.
“Yes,” Ethan drily said. “Forget the Merit money. Clearly, her worth is in her superb sense of humor.”
The room went silent, Mallory’s brow knitting with obvious concern. Catcher nervously cleared his throat, balled up the foil from his hot dog. It was up to me, I guessed, to ease the tension that bringing my family into the mix had fostered.
I looked over at him, saw the sudden tightness around Ethan’s eyes, realized he regretted saying what he probably, on first blush, thought was a compliment. And in a way, in a twisted, completely Sullivan-esque way, it was.
“That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me,” I told him, realizing when the words were out that I was only barely lying.
For a second, I got no reaction.
And then he smiled, kind of a quirky half smile that tipped up only the right corner of his mouth. Because of that smile, that goddamn human smile, I had to swallow down a burst of affection that nearly brought tears to my eyes. Instead, I looked away, and hated myself—for my inability to hate him despite the things he said, the things he did, the things he expected.
I wanted to beat my fists against the floor like a child in tantrum. Why couldn’t I hate him? Why, in spite of the fact that I knew, as readily as I knew that I was sitting on the sofa in his office with my best friend and her boyfriend nearby, that my inability to hate him was going to bite me right on the ass one day?
That was going to be a very, very bad day, and I wasn’t sure if I was better off for knowing that it was coming.
“Well,” Catcher said, suddenly rising, his voice cutting through the strain that still thickened the air in the room, “we should get back to the house.” He looked at me. “It’ll be dawn soon. You need a ride?”
I rose and began stuffing empty food wrappers back into the paper bags. “I drove over. But I should get back, too. I’ll walk you out.” I looked at Ethan. “Assuming we’re done?”
He bobbed his head. “I had wanted to touch base with you about the murder investigations, their impact on the House, but I suppose this discussion has negated the need for that.” His voice softened. “It’s late. You’re dismissed.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Mallory lightly said, her tone making clear that she had words planned.
“Well, then,” Ethan said, standing with the rest of us. “Thank you for the meal.” He reached out and offered Catcher his hand, and they shook over the table and the crumpled remains of our dinner.
“Sure,” Catcher said. “A word with you before we head out?”
Ethan nodded, and Catcher pressed his lips to Mallory’s forehead. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Sure thing,” she said, her hand brushing his abdomen as she reached up to press her lips to his. The goodbyes complete, she turned to me, smiled, and offered her hand. “Let’s let the boys clean up the rest of this mess, shall we?”
We did, leaving them on either side of the coffee table, napkins and paper cups and bags of trash between them. Her arm linked in mine, we left Cadogan House, walked quietly down the block to my car, and stayed quiet until we’d driven a block away.
“Merit, you’ve got a bad track record with guys.”
“Don’t start on me.” I gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “I don’t have a thing for Ethan.”
“You’ve got a thing that’s written all over your face. I thought this was just physical.” She shook her head. “But whatever went on in there, that was more than physical, more than chemistry. He pushes some kind of button for you, and although he’s doing a little better job of fighting it, I’d say you do the same for him.”
“I don’t like him.”
“I understand that.” She reached out, tapped a fingertip lightly against my temple. “But that’s up here. That’s logical. He’s pulled you in. And it’s not that I don’t want to support you in whoever you’ve found. I’m a Buffy fan girl, I’m apparently a sorcerer, and I’m dating a former sorcerer . . . or whatever the hell he is. Regardless, I’m the last person who should give a lecture on weird relationships. But there’s something. . . .”
“Inhuman about him?”
She clapped a hand against the dashboard. “Yes. Exactly. It’s like he’s not playing by the same rules at the rest of us.”
“He’s a vampire. I’m a vampire.” Jesus, was I defending this? I was in a bad way.
“Yes, Mer, but you’ve been a vampire for, what, a week? He’s been a vamp for nearly four hundred years. That’s a freakin’ plethora of weeks. You have to think it, I don’t know, bleeds some of the human out of him.”
I gnawed on my bottom lip, staring blankly at the passing houses, the side streets. “I’m not in love with him. I’m not that stupid.” I scratched absently at my head. “I don’t know what it is.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, so fiercely that I thought for a second we were under attack. “I’ve got it.”
Once I was sure she was fine, that there weren’t bat-winged beasts descending on the car, I slapped her arm. “Damn, girl. Don’t do that when I’m driving.”
“Sorry,” she said, swiveling in her seat, her face alight. “But I’ve got an idea—maybe it’s the vampire thing—the fact that he made you? They say that’s supposed to create a bond.”
I considered that, decided to embrace it, and felt some of the tension leave my shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah. That could be it.” It did explain the connection between us, and was much more emotionally satisfying than imagining I was falling for someone so utterly, completely wrong for me. Someone so embarrassed by his interest in me.
As we pulled into the drive, I gave the thought a final hearty nod. “Yeah,” I told her. “That’s it.”
She looked at me, waited a beat, then nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”