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He also wore the Cadogan uniform—a trim black suit that fitted him like the expensive, bespoke garment it probably was. He wore a white button-down beneath, the top button unclasped to show the gleaming silver teardrop of the Cadogan medal that hung at his throat. It was a mark of solidarity, of unity, among the vampires of Cadogan House. And he wore it as well as he did everything else.
Beside him was a small woman with tan skin and dark hair. She was a vampire, at least based on the invisible buzz of magic around her. And given the tightness around her eyes, she was a vampire with worries.
“We’ll be in touch,” Ethan promised, and she knotted her fingers together, inclined her head toward him.
“Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, and we watched as she headed toward the door.
But when I looked back at Ethan, his gaze was fixed on me.
Sentinel, he said through our telepathic connection, taking in the leather and steel of my ensemble. I like the look of you.
Good, I said. Because you’re marrying me tomorrow.
His smile was just a little bit wicked. So I am.
Malik and I walked toward him.
“Mrs. Bly?” Malik asked.
“She has a human nephew she’d like to consider joining the House. His parents are less than enthused, and she’d like us to talk to them.”
Malik smiled. “She wants us to sell them on the House.”
“Like we’re working on commission,” Ethan said with an answering smile, and glanced at me. “You’ll be leaving soon?
Tonight was my bachelorette party, organized by Lindsey, a friend in the House and a guard, and Mallory, my oldest friend and maid of honor. Malik and Luc, Lindsey’s boyfriend, were in charge of Ethan’s bachelor party. I wasn’t sure what any of them had planned, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know.
“In an hour.”
“Let’s go to my office,” Ethan said, nodding at Malik and put a hand on my back, steering me through vampires and boxes and down the hallway.
“From head of security to wedding mule,” said a vampire with a mop of wavy curls, his arms roped with the effort of carrying an enormous box down the hall.
“I’m pretty sure mules complain less, Luc,” said the pale vampire with a swinging blond ponytail who followed him with a much lighter load—a bundle of long, spiraling branches.
“Sticks,” Luc said, setting his box carefully on the floor and offering us a crooked grin, his face framed by tousled blond hair. “Why do you need sticks for a wedding?”
“They aren’t sticks,” Lindsey said. “They’re willow branches, and they’re for ambience.”
Luc shook his head ruefully, glanced at Ethan. “Your orders, Sire?”
Ethan smiled. “Wedding decorations are outside my wheelhouse, and Merit’s, I suspect.”
No argument there. I was technically the House’s social chair, but I fell less into the Soiree Planner category than the Crash a Party with a Sword category. I’d left most of the planning to my mother and Helen, both of whom were skilled at planning soirees. And when a Master vampire married a real estate mogul’s daughter, a soiree was unavoidable. I told them “simple and elegant” and “white peonies,” and let them have the run of things. Which meant they’d asked me at least twenty-five questions a night for the past four months.
“Hashtag wedding,” Luc said with a smile.
Lindsey shook her head, mouth tight. “You’re still not using that right.”
“Hashtag oppression,” Luc said. Not for lack of trying, Luc never quite got the references right. Probably not entirely unexpected for a century-old vampire.
“I’m sure Helen appreciates your efforts tonight,” Ethan said. “And I’m sure we will tomorrow.”
I glanced at Luc. “You’ll keep him out of trouble tonight?”
“Scout’s honor,” Luc said, his expression perfectly bland. Since vampires were experts at bluffing, I couldn’t tell whether that was really the truth or a cover for a night of carousing and mischief making.
