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"At least admit that there's more to it than drugs," he quietly said.
I looked away, gnawed the edge of my lip, and pondered the irony. I'd kissed Ethan, and he wanted to discuss our relationship. We'd now completely switched roles.
"There's more to it," I finally agreed. "But you know how I feel."
"And you still aren't convinced my intentions are noble?"
I was becoming more convinced, I thought to myself, but how could I tell him that? How could I confess it without sounding cruel for not believing him completely - and without risking my heart by telling him he'd managed to halfway convince me?
An awkward silence descended. Thankfully, he changed the subject. "In my position, what would you do about V?"
"I'm not in your position."
"Assume that you were," he said. "Assume that you had a House of vampires under your protection. Assume that a bureaucrat had decided you weren't allowed to solve an immediate problem facing your House for fear it would draw undue attention to the existence of the problem."
I sat up, crossing my legs beneath me.
"You've answered your question, haven't you? You have an immediate risk to the safety of your vampires, and a political risk that might occur down the road. Solve the immediate risk first.
Apologize, instead of asking for permission."
"And if the end result is the House in receivership?"
"Then we hope the receiver has more sense than the leader of the GP."
Finally, Ethan cracked a half smile. I was struck by the urge to lift his burden, to make the smile complete, to give him the kind of relief he'd tried to give me - however unsuccessfully - with chocolate-flavored blood.
"I have an idea," I said.
"What's that?"
I paused, still thinking it through, before offering, "Meet me outside in five minutes - out near the fountain."
He arched a crisp eyebrow. "Because?"
"Because I said so. Trust me."
He debated for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Five minutes." He stood up and walked to the door, glancing back before walking out. "And never doubt it, Merit - I do trust you."
He disappeared through the door. I climbed off the bed, my headache beginning to dissipate, and set to work.
The Cadogan House gardens were spectacular, from the running trail to the brick barbecue pit to the formal French garden behind the House. A fountain sat in the middle of the garden, bubbling water for the enjoyment of any vampires who might be seated on the benches around it.
I took off my shoes after I crossed the brick patio at the back of the House, closing my eyes at the luxurious feel of soft, cool grass beneath my feet.
Your five minutes are drawing to a close, Ethan silently said. I smiled as I padded back to the fountain.
Aren't you always lecturing me about patience?
An overrated virtue, he replied, and I could all but hear the sarcasm in the thought.
I found him in a genteel sprawl on one of the benches, the only vampire in the vicinity, and clearly doing a little luxuriating of his own. Eyes closed, he was slouched comfortably across the seat, one foot on the bench, the other on the ground. One arm was slung across its back, his other hand on the flat of his stomach. In his white button-down and trousers, he looked more like a Regency rake than a Master of vampires.
Maybe he was reliving history.
I sat cross-legged on the ground beside him, the box in my lap.
"What do you have there?" he asked, not bothering to look up.
"Quid pro quo," I said. "Chocolate for chocolate. But there will be a price to pay."
"Is the treat worth it?" His voice was a low, amused drawl.
I answered in the same honeyed tone, both of us knowing full well that a flirtation in the middle of the backyard was just that - an enjoyable flirtation. "It absolutely is."
Ethan chuckled. "In that case, Sentinel, be my guest."
"What was your favorite time period? What period did you enjoy the most?"
His brows lifted, as if surprised by the question. He opened his eyes and shuffled a bit on the bench, then stilled as he thought it through. "There's no denying today's mechanical conveniences. Humans are on the cusp of momentous discoveries that would have been impossible even twenty years ago. And yet," he began, then quieted again.
"And yet?" I prompted after a moment.
He sighed. "There have been times that were dangerous, but invigorating. Scenes from history I was fortunate enough to witness firsthand. The birth of this republic - the vigor of the debate, the fervency of the belief that man could do better than monarchy. Moments during the Civil War in which men and women - even in times of great peril - were brave enough to remind us of the best of ourselves. D-day in London, when Whitehall was filled with heart-bursting joy . . . and grief."
Ethan sighed. "Immortality affords you the opportunity to witness history in the making.
Humanity's triumphs and its cruelties, both. It is both a high price to pay and a priceless gift, to carry the weight of that knowledge."
He turned over a bit, propping his head on his fist and glancing down at me. "Now, having walked through my lifetime, Sentinel, what's my treat?"
I lifted the box for him to see and thoroughly enjoyed the vaguely dismayed expression on his face.
"You're joking."
"I never joke about Mallocakes. Sit up."
He didn't look any less suspicious, but he did as I asked, shuffling down to the end of the bench to give me room to join him. But I was fine on the ground. It put space between us and kept the interaction casual. It let me pretend the emotional boundaries I'd put between us were still firmly intact . . . even as I sat on the ground quizzing him about his life and preparing to feed him cream-filled sponge cake.
But when denial was your safety net, denial was what you worked with.
I pulled off the paper zip strip on the box and pulled out two cellophane-wrapped snacks. I handed one to him, put the box aside, and cradled mine in my hands.
"Behold the glorious marriage of cake and cream."
Ethan looked unimpressed by the sugar log I'd placed in his hand. "Really, Sentinel."
"Trust me. You won't regret this." I opened my packet and held up the cake. "Now, there are various theories of the best way to eat a Mallocake."
Finally, a hint of a smile. "Are there, now?"
"Our favorite sorceress, Mallory Carmichael, prefers to dunk them whole in milk. It's not a bad treatment, but I think it makes them soggy, and I have this thing about wet bread."
