Connor nodded, brushed a finger along my cheek. “You’re welcome.” Then he rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms. “Back to the town house?”
“I’ve got a little more in me,” I said, and the monster pinged me with interest. I glanced at Connor. “You want to race the monster?”
That he looked at me with competitive interest, not fear or terror, made me fall a little deeper. “Really?”
I felt its earnest agreement. “Yup. It thinks it can take you.”
He snorted, all cockiness.
* * *
* * *
This time, I beat him to the door.
I turned back, breath huffing, and grinned victoriously.
He climbed one step, which put us nearly eye to eye. “You’re fast. The monster is fast. But I’d have beaten you on four legs.” He kissed me, quick and hard. “Spinach time.”
It took me a minute to comprehend the offer. Smoothies. “That’s not the way you woo a girl into your house, into your bed,” I said, and we walked inside.
Connor froze halfway across the foyer, looked back at me, gaze narrowed. “I thought you were asleep when I said that.”
“I know.” I grinned and walked past him. “Vampire hearing’s pretty good, too.”
“Freaking vampires,” he said and followed me into the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator, but closed it quickly. And then looked at me. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear tonight, but I have bad news.”
“In the refrigerator? What is it?”
“The sourdough starter . . . is dead.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
He put a hand over his heart and looked up at the ceiling, gaze vacant and thoughtful. “It died an honorable death, and we mourn its loss.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Damn it, Connor. Did Alexei eat the starter?”
He pulled out the empty jar, held it up. “I suspect he did.”
Honestly, directing shifters not to eat my homemade bread prep work wasn’t something I’d thought I’d ever have to say. “Is he nursing the mother of all stomachaches?”
As if on cue, Alexei padded into the kitchen, this time in gym shorts. He nodded at us, pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator, and disappeared again.
“Probably,” Connor concluded.
I looked back at him. “Shifters eat a lot.”
Connor’s look was bone-dry. “You eat people.”
“Only in a manner of speaking.” I let my grin go wicked. “And only if they ask nicely.”
He moved forward, caught me with an arm around the waist. “Oh, I’ll ask nicely.”
I smiled. “Thanks for making me laugh.”
“Feeling better?”
“I’m . . . ready,” I decided. “Ready to end both very uncomfortable chapters of my life.” I looked back at him. “There will be more than this. Probably worse than this.”
“My cousin’s friends tried to kill you.”
“Good point. Go get dressed.”
* * *
* * *
Lulu appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom after I’d showered, and wasn’t wearing her paint-spattered clothes.
“You aren’t working tonight?”
“Not tonight. Alexei thought it would be better if I stayed here, just in case the AAM tries some kind of double cross.”
“Right. Super smart.”
“So what are you wearing?” she asked, and there was actual suspicion in her eyes, and it felt so gloriously normal—so us—that I nearly cried.
I pulled out the military-style black jacket I’d hung in the master bedroom closet. “I was thinking about this.”
“That could work,” she said and sat down on the bed. “Fancy in here.”
“They like their creature comforts,” I said, pulling leggings from the pile of clothes I’d brought back from the loft. I looked up at her. “And how are you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Better, I guess. I think Mateo was kind of self-centered.”
“Based on what you told me, I’d say definitely.” I sat down beside her. “You are, of course, invited to tonight’s nonsense if you don’t want to stay here. You could hang in the Cadogan House library.”
“Too much magic,” she said. “I’m good here. He’s got every option on that wall screen, so I’ll binge my way out of grief.”
“Want me to steal some art from the House for you to critique?”
“No,” she said with a laugh, “but thanks for the offer.” She leveled her gaze. “You aren’t going to do anything ridiculous tonight, are you?”
“You mean other than possibly dueling a vampire? Of course not. That would be silly.”
She shook her head. “Reason forty-two why I hate supernatural drama. It’s always life or death with these people.”
“Only the fundamentally unreasonable ones,” I said. “Which Clive plainly is. Unfortunately, they’ve made family problems everyone’s problems, and I’m on cleanup duty.” I put an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”