“We’ll talk,” he said, and Ethan nodded.
“The same order goes for the rest of you,” Ethan said, glancing around the room. “Get upstairs, get some rest. It’s been a long night.”
“Too long,” Luc agreed, and everyone filed out.
When the room was empty, Ethan put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned my head against him, breathing in his cologne, which for biochemical reasons I didn’t understand, always calmed me down.
“You’re all right?” he asked. He’d been asking that often lately.
“I have no idea.”
“Nor do I, Sentinel. So let us say nothing. Let us just be.”
—
A few minutes later, I headed upstairs alone; Ethan begged off for a few minutes to try Darius again and close things down in his office.
In my room, I discovered Margot had found our new digs. Several white taper candles in silver candlesticks glowed on the bureau and nightstand, and a small silver tray—smaller to actually fit on the limited bureau space not already filled with candles—held bottles of sparkling water and wrapped chocolates.
Six minutes later, I was on the bed with a clean face and pajamas, when the door opened and Ethan walked in.
“Honey, I’m home,” he said, jacket slung over his shoulder. His hair was loose around his face, and he looked weary and not a little depressed. He hung his jacket over the closet doorknob. Silently, he began unbuttoning his vest.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’ve been better. I’m looking forward to oblivion.”
The sun was on the rise, and a coherent response escaped me. But it was unnecessary. Ethan slid into bed beside me, his body warm and ready.
“Yes,” I said. And that was the end of all thought.
Ethan found me, prepared me, and took my body for his own, lust lingering with exhaustion, with sweat, love made tangible by palms and calves, with the curve of his spine and the apple of his shoulder, with my breasts and his fingers.
Love sparked and dissipated like sparks in the wind, and the sun rose high in the sky.
But night came again, because night, like death and taxes, was inevitable.
Chapter Fourteen
GROWING PAINS
I woke achy, but the pain in my back, at least, was reduced to a dull throb. The benefits of vampire healing couldn’t be overestimated; the benefits of two adults of above-average height squeezing into a twin-sized bed could easily be overestimated.
But while the accommodations forced us to sleep like sardines, it was difficult to argue with an arrangement that put me skin to skin with a sexy blond vampire.
I was wrapped around him, naked from our predawn lovemaking and chilly. Cadogan House was many things, but warm it was not.
“Sentinel,” Ethan said.
“Liege.”
He trailed fingers down my back. “Considering our positions, I think we can dispense with the formalities. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Despite having made the plans, I’d completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said. “I’d actually forgotten.”
“I didn’t,” Ethan said, “but I think a postponement is in order, considering . . .”
Intellectually, I knew he was right. If I was going to celebrate the miracle of my relationship with Ethan Sullivan, I wanted to do it correctly. I didn’t want to be worried about whether rioters were going to attack my House and kill my friends, or the GP would send a herd of chimeras to destroy the House in retribution for Monmonth’s death. I wanted to sit with Ethan and watch the sun rise over the lake, not rush back to the House out of fear we’d be burned to ash if we tarried too long.
In short, I wanted to be human. And that was not in the cards.
When I didn’t answer, my disappointment keen even if totally irrational, Ethan explained.
“We can’t afford it,” he said. “Not considering what happened last night with the GP, and what might happen tonight. The rioters are still out there. I want Valentine’s Day to be special, not a dinner in which we’re worried the entire time about what might be happening here.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Do you ever wish you were still human?”
Ethan paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Are you wishing you were human, or that your life was simpler?”
I used one of his tricks. “Yes,” I said, picking both answers. “I’ll call and change the reservation. Give us a cushion of a few days. Maybe things will be less psychotic by then.”
I pulled myself away from him, then climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To take a shower and get ready for the night,” I said. “Because as you pointed out, there are likely nastier things around the corner.”