few weeks ago. Maybe something had festered, or gone wrong? It had been a few days since I’d checked on Carlie. I made a note to send her a message.
“So we assume the AAM didn’t tell your parents what they’re doing. Are you going to tell them?”
“No,” I decided. “Not yet. I don’t want them feeling like they have to fly to my rescue. And their being here would . . . complicate things.”
“Would it?” Connor asked.
“I don’t know exactly what the Compliance Bureau will want,” I said, “but I’m guessing they want me in a House, under the authority of a Master. They’ll want me to swear an oath.”
“And your parents will want it to be Cadogan House,” Connor finished.
I nodded. “They took it hard when I told them I didn’t consider myself a Novitiate and didn’t want to be. And if the AAM is pressuring me, that puts pressure on them, on Cadogan House.” I blew out a breath. “I know they can’t avoid all the blowback, but maybe the heat on them stays lower if they stay where they are.”
“They can’t be used against you,” Connor said, and I felt the immediate relief that came from being understood.
“Yeah,” I said. “Exactly. I understand why the AAM has rules,” I continued. “I understand the need to protect against vampires who’d build their own armies. Humans would annihilate us all if it came to that.”
“But that’s not what this is,” Connor said. “And if the rules can’t be flexible in situations like this, they’re bad rules.” He paused. “And there’s no way you’d consider taking an oath?”
I stepped back, putting space between us.
His eyes flashed. “A question,” he said. “Not an accusation.”
“I don’t want to be owned by a House. This is pretty good evidence that it involves obeying rules I don’t agree with.”
“I’ve always said vampires are trouble.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“And yet,” Connor said, lowering his mouth to mine. His kiss was warm and comforting, a reminder that I didn’t stand alone. But its edges were sharp—desire and anger, both dangerously honed. Both reminders of what could be. What would be.
“I guess this means we’ll be missing dinner tomorrow,” he said.
“Dinner?” I asked, tilting my head at him. “What dinner?”
His expression went flat. “I was going to bring over Italian food. Chianti.”
I winced. “I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”
“That might be the first time a woman has forgotten about a rendezvous with me.”
“You know what I like most about you? Your quiet and humble nature.”
He gave me his cockiest smile—all self-assured confidence. “Also the first time anyone has said that.”
“I bet. And again, I’m sorry. It would have been nice.” And that was putting it mildly. Eating a microwaved burrito in a convenience store parking lot would have been nice with Connor. But meatballs and sauce and excellent wine? Delectable.
He put a hand at the back of my head, leaned in to kiss my forehead. “There will be other times, other meals. And as for my ego?” He leaned in, whispered, “I earned it.”
And left me with a grin—and my pulse humming in my ears.
* * *
* * *
I closed the door, locked it, leaned against it. Flirting was an underrated art. Four years in Paris had taught me plenty, but I had nothing on the prince of wolves.
Now alone, I sat down on the hallway floor, stretched out my legs, closed my eyes. I let the monster stretch, unfurl the dark wings of its anger. It didn’t exactly consider me a friend, but I was at least an ally. And it didn’t care for its vehicle being threatened by outsiders.
When it had burned away some of the rage, I rose again, steadying myself with a hand against the wall. Its retreat was a vacuum, and it left me light-headed. And I’d have sworn I’d felt its pitying humor.
“Hilarious,” I muttered. “You try controlling two consciousnesses in a single body and see how well you do.”
Maybe I imagined it. But I’d have sworn its answer was Let me try.
I wasn’t yet tired—exhausted, but not tired—so I drank a bottle of blood, tidied up the rest of the loft, and flipped through the mail that had arrived earlier that day. And found a square envelope with my name printed on it in tidy block letters. No return address. Wedding invitation, I guessed, because why else would someone send something by hand when screens could transmit messages immediately.
I slipped a thumb under the seal, pulled out the folded paper, and