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When I was pink and clean, I climbed out again and dried my hair. I returned to my basic fal 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 hal to the second floor's smal 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 celophane wrapped and seriously processed. Now that Cabot was gone, sugar was back in play. The kitchen was stocked with treats, including Malocakes 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 Malocakes for a granola bar that I ate while reading flyers posted to a newly hung buletin 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 al 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 al directions, wearing only a sheet and, of course, her Cadogan medal.
And behind her, on her smal bed, was Luc. He was also wrapped mostly in a blanket, except for the tooled leather cowboy boots on his feet. He waved colegialy, 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 halway, 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 wel."
"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 halway again.
"Home sweet home," I murmured.
Chapter Nine
THE CABBAGE CURE
Ethan may not have been officialy 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 puled back at the nape of his neck. He stared down at a spread of papers, a single lock of golden hair faling 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 equaly 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.
This was hardly the time to have lascivious thoughts about my boss, but if not now, when? The world was not perfect, and the timing probably would never be.
I walked in, made sure we were alone, and shut the door. He looked up at the sound and watched me stride toward him, then rose from his seat with alarm in his expression.
"What is it?"
I didn't waste time with explanations or pretensions. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into the slick warm cotton of his shirt.
He stroked my hair. "You're al right?"
I nodded. "I'm just realy glad to be home."
He puled back and looked down at me, and the comfort turned into a kiss, inviting and ful of promise. He splayed his hands against my back, his fingers hot to the touch, and used teeth and tongue to remind me that I'd come home into his arms again.
He slid his hands down my arms...and I instinctively flinched as his fingers made contact with the bruise he'd made.
Ethan puled back and stared down at me, a new anxiety in his eyes.
Without another word, he returned to his seat, leaving me standing there awkwardly, my stomach doing somersaults.
"What just happened?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes. He looked down at the papers on his desk and kept his eyes there, shuffling through them like they held the world's precious secrets.
"Ethan."
"Merit, I have work to do."
"Don't you think we should talk about this?"
He didn't answer, but his gaze shifted to my arm, the one he'd grabbed. The one he'd bruised. "I hurt you."
"I'm fine. It's nothing."
"Did I leave a mark?"
I let my silence answer, and he swore under his breath. After a moment of twisting nerves, he looked up at me again.
"You didn't hurt me," I insisted.
"I bruised you. You flinched."
"You're a vampire and you're strong. It happens."
"Not to me it doesn't." He wet his lips and looked away.
"Paige is settled?"
I had no idea what to say, so I answered the question. "She's in the guest suite."
He nodded. Just a single nod before focusing on his papers again.
"Ethan," I began, but I wasn't sure how to finish.
He looked up. "Merit, Darius is on his way. I realy need to prepare."
He seemed earnest, and I didn't have any reason to doubt that he wanted to be ready for his meeting with Darius...but that didn't ease the low ache in my stomach.
I'd just made it back to the main staircase when Catcher texted me: GABRIEL IS READY.
Stunned, I checked my watch. We'd been home for only a few hours. I guess shifters weren't keen on speed limits, and it wouldn't have surprised me to learn he'd used a little of his own magic to speed up the trip, particularly given his cargo.
