“Thanks. Me, too.”
“This is life,” Ethan said. “This is Valentine’s Day. Do not rue the tragedies; celebrate the victories.”
“That sounds like something Merit’s grandfather would say,” Malik said with a smile.
“Are you hungry?” Margot asked. “Have you had time to eat?”
Not lately, considering my second effectively failed attempt at arranging a meal for Valentine’s Day. I knew I’d be ravenous tomorrow, but for tonight, my appetite was gone.
“I’m not especially hungry,” Ethan said. “But perhaps blood and wine?”
Margot nodded. “Absolutely, Liege. I’ll get that ready for you and send it to your apartments.”
That was at least a small relief—with the Grey House vampires installed at the King George, we could get our apartments and bed back. My body was going to need the rest, and I was pretty sure I’d be sleeping hard tonight.
And speaking of the new Grey House digs, “Any update on Brooklyn?” I asked Luc.
“Last we heard, she was stable,” he said. “I don’t have any more information.”
Ethan put a hand on my back. “I think that’s a sufficient update for now,” he said. “It’s been a very long night. Let’s get ready for dawn, and we’ll start fresh at dusk.”
I couldn’t have agreed with that more.
—
Upstairs, once again in Ethan’s apartments, I dumped my ruined leathers on the floor and climbed into the shower without preface. I showered until my skin was pink, then pulled on the softest pajamas I could find. They were pink fleece, not exactly the sexiest ensemble, but they were comforting in a way that I needed.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I found Ethan in the sitting room. He wore nothing but silk green pajama bottoms that rode low on his hips, and he gazed down at a folded newspaper on the side table in front of him. Margot’s tray was on the table beside it. Thinking both were worth a closer look, I padded across the room in my fuzzy pajamas, my hair still damp from the shower.
Ethan looked up with amusement. “Your coziest sleepwear?”
“Exactly. What did Margot bring?”
“Blood, wine, croissants.”
I hadn’t intended to eat, but my stomach growled ominously. “How long until dawn?”
Ethan glanced at his phone, which lay on the table. “Eighteen minutes.”
“Croissant it is,” I said. I bit into one while holding out my empty wineglass, waiting while he filled it with white wine from the carafe.
“Sometimes,” Ethan said, filling his own glass when I took a sip of mine, “I think we’re fortunate to make it through the night.”
The wine was crisp and fresh, and it provided a nice, sharp contrast to the flaky, buttery croissant.
“You aren’t wrong,” I said, nibbling the edge of it.
“Here,” Ethan said, holding out a hand for my glass. “Let’s have a seat by the fire.”
I glanced back at the onyx fireplace in one corner of the room, which I’d rarely seen lit. “I don’t think we have time to get a fire going.”
“Of course we do,” he said. He walked to the corner of the room and flipped a switch behind one of the curtains. The fireplace roared to life, and Ethan looked back at me with a grin.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” I said, joining him and sitting cross-legged on the floor. He handed my wineglass back, then did the same.
For the second time tonight, I watched a fire rage. But this time, I was safe at home, with guards outside to keep the monsters away. And, best of all, Ethan was beside me.
“Tell me more about this Scottish estate of ours,” I said.
It took him a moment to remember the conversation we’d had earlier. “Ah, yes. Well, there would be much old wood and tall windows. And maybe a hound or two. We’d watch the wind race across the moors like Catherine and Heathcliff might have.”
“But with a happier ending, I hope?”
“Absolutely. And without your Sentinel duties to attend to, you could learn to knit. Or embroider. Or perhaps tatting.”
“I’ll stick to reading, thank you very much. You could learn those things. Or how to cook.”
“I can cook, Sentinel.”
I looked at him, obviously suspicious. “You’ve never cooked for me.”
“I’ve not yet done a number of things for you. That doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing them.” He put an arm around me.
“We’ve many years to go yet, Sentinel. And many things to learn about each other. He clinked his glass against mine. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ethan,” I said.