When the door was locked behind me, I peeled off my leather jacket and filthy clothes and climbed into the shower.
It was even better than I’d imagined. I scrubbed the soot from my face and let the heat push the remaining pain from my presumptively broken rib and twisted ankle and the green-purple bruise on my arm where Ethan had grabbed me. There was no doubt they were healing, but the residual aches hadn’t yet gone away.
When I was pink and clean, I climbed out again and dried my hair. I returned to my basic fall uniform—jeans, boots, a snug long-sleeved T-shirt, and my leather jacket.
Since Paige was resting, I took the time to check my e-mail and the news of the world, then gave my sword a wipe-down with rice paper and oil. A good thing, too—it was filthy. Catcher would not have been impressed that I’d carried it back from Nebraska without cleaning it. Hygiene, sword or otherwise, took an unfortunate backseat in a crisis.
When we were both clean again, I made a trip across the hall to the second floor’s small kitchenette.
There’d been an unfortunate lack of deliciousness in the House when Franklin Cabot, the receiver, had been here; he was a fan of green and organic. I was a fan of cellophane wrapped and seriously processed. Now that Cabot was gone, sugar was back in play. The kitchen was stocked with treats, including Mallocakes and bags of blood from Blood4You, our delivery service.
I nuked a bag for a few seconds, poked in a straw, and drained it dry. Even steak only went so far. I drank another pint just to be on the safe side, and because I was being mature, I skipped the Mallocakes for a granola bar that I ate while reading flyers posted to a newly hung bulletin board in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, they weren’t exactly cheery. There were instructions for registering with the city and an article about the attack on the vampires and humans Jeff had mentioned.
If no news was good news, was all news bad news?
My stomach (temporarily) sated and Paige (temporarily) out of service, I decided to check on Lindsey. I wasn’t sure she’d be in her room in the middle of the night, but since I hadn’t seen her since before we left for Nebraska, I figured it was worth the time to knock.
There was silence for a moment, and I almost turned to walk away.
Oh, if only I’d walked away.
I heard a bout of giggling, and then the door opened. Lindsey stood in the doorway, blond hair in all directions, wearing only a sheet and, of course, her Cadogan medal.
And behind her, on her small bed, was Luc. He was also wrapped mostly in a blanket, except for the tooled leather cowboy boots on his feet. He waved collegially, as if I hadn’t just interrupted him midcoitus.
“I am…clearly interrupting…something,” I said, taking a step away from the door. “And I don’t want to keep doing that, so I am going to just go on about my business.”
Lindsey pressed her lips together, then slipped out the door and into the hallway, closing the door behind her. “You good?”
“Me? Oh, sure. I’m—I’m great. I’m just going to go…find something else to do.”
“Didn’t want to see your other boss half-naked, did you?” she asked.
“Or wearing cowboy boots,” I agreed. “But I’m glad to see you’re getting along so well.”
“I’m doing what I can for House solidarity.”
“I can see that. Okay. You two have fun. Find me…when you’re dressed.”
Without waiting for her reply, I walked down the hallway again.
“Home sweet home,” I murmured.
CHAPTER NINE
THE CABBAGE CURE
Ethan may not have been officially Master of the House, but that hadn’t stopped him from reclaiming his old office on the first floor. It was big, with a handsome desk, a seating area, and a giant conference table. He sat behind the desk, dressed in a button-up white shirt, his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. He stared down at a spread of papers, a single lock of golden hair falling across his brow.
He was so handsome. So strong—the epitome of the alpha male. Smart. Strategic and stubborn, often to his detriment. And although I’d spent plenty of time trying, it was pointless to deny the attraction between us. Which was equally strong and stubborn.
I watched him work for a minute—the long fingers and steady gaze, the quirk of an eyebrow when he read a passage he apparently didn’t like.