“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.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“No,” I agreed. “I can’t guarantee anything. None of us can. But I’m in the best position to stop this, so I’m going to try my damnedest.”

She put her head on my shoulder. “Sometimes I wish you were a lazy-ass slacker.”

I acknowledged the little knot of fear in my gut. “Sometimes I do, too.”

* * *

* * *

I went downstairs wearing black—jacket to leggings to boots—accented by the bright red of my katana scabbard. And got a wolf whistle for my trouble.

“You clean up good,” Connor said, snatching me toward him with a hand at my waist. He kissed me solidly, left me more than a little breathless.

“You’re in a good mood,” I said. He wasn’t dressed for combat, but then shifters rarely were.

“I’m feeling optimistic.”

The monster lifted its metaphorical head. And instead of trying to wrestle control from me, asked me a question.

please?

I considered. Clive and the others already thought I was damaged or different, so fighting with exceptional skill wasn’t going to change that. With one caveat. Can you keep my eyes from changing?

Silence, then: will try

If you can prevent that, I told it, I’ll invite you out when the time is right.

There was thrill in its answer, and delicious warmth as it settled into bone and muscle. No friction between us, just ease and readiness for action. It had wiped away the lingering nerves, the jitteriness of adrenaline, leaving only calm behind.

I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply, exhaled hugely.

“I should be the only one who makes you sound like that.”

I glanced at Connor, grinned. “We’re going to fight together. The monster and me. In public.”

“Good.”

“It’s just—I’m worried about my eyes.”

“Still green now. I’ll signal you if they change.” He stepped to me and tipped up my face, kissed me well and properly. “You’ll be careful.”

“Yes. But if it comes down to me and Clive and a katana, I take him on my own.”

“Of course. And I’ll have your back. Let’s send this asshole home.”

It was my entire agenda.

* * *

* * *

Connor and I met Petra, Gwen, and Theo outside Cadogan House shortly before midnight. We’d parked in front of the House; they’d parked a few blocks away, to keep our vehicles from being too noticeable.

My father had spared no expense making Cadogan look exactly like Petra had promised: soft music flowed from speakers on the lawn, and the grounds were lit for a gathering, with path lights and torches burning.

“It really does look like a party,” Gwen said. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome to a tour when this is all done. Your people in position?”

“And in contact,” Gwen said with a nod. “They’ve got a wagon waiting for transport. Any contact from Levi?”

I shook my head, but knew in my gut he would come. He may have already been close.

“Clive?” I asked Gwen.

“Released at dusk into the custody of the AAM. According to witnesses, he remains very, very angry at you and had a very heated discussion with Ms. Heart outside the building. And I may have accidentally told him you were having a kind of victory party tonight.”

“Excellent thinking,” I said with a smile. The angrier he was, the more mistakes he’d make.

“And since they both know about it and could be nearby,” Gwen said, “let’s get inside.”

We walked down the path to the front of the House, were greeted in the foyer by Luc and Lindsey, who’d returned from New York. He looked every bit the cowboy, from the jeans and boots—an exception to the Cadogan black dress code—to the tousled dark brown hair.

I made the introductions.

“Detective,” Luc said, stepping forward with a handshake. “Good to meet you.”

“Same here,” she said and gave Lindsey a nod.

“We’re going to take you downstairs into the guards’ room. You’ll have full access to the security feeds down there. Kelly, our guard captain, can tie you in to your unit comms.”

“Good enough,” Gwen said and glanced back at us. “Good luck.”

“And to you.”

“Be careful,” Theo said, squeezing my hand before he and Petra followed them.

I blew out a breath, tried to calm my nerves. I knew I’d be fine once things were underway. It was the waiting that was hardest. The anticipation of what was to come.

“She won’t hurt you,” Connor said, and I looked back at him, nodded.

“I know. But I don’t know her. I don’t know what she’ll say, or what she’ll want, or what she’ll demand of me. That’s what makes me nervous.”

“Alaska,” Connor said, wrapping me in his arms. “If all else fails, we’ll go to Alaska. They’ll never find us there.”

I snorted. “They’ll never find me there. I’m an urban girl, and that’s as sub-suburban as you can get. I want a coffeehouse on every corner.”

He humphed, kissed me.

“Be smart. Be good. I’ll be here, whatever the outcome.”

“Same,” I said, and brushed my fingers against his. It was time to end this.

TWENTY-THREE

Nicole Heart waited in my father’s office. My father made the introductions, but I hardly heard a word he said.

Then he left us alone. We stood in the middle of his office, facing each other.

She was beautiful. She was a tall woman, with dark skin and a curvy figure. Her hair was closely cropped, emphasizing her dark eyes and thick lashes, her round cheekbones, generous mouth. She wore an ivory suit today in a fabric that skimmed her curves. And the power she’d been afforded skimmed all of her and put a faint tingle in the air.

“We haven’t met,” she said, her words soft, her tone lightly accented. “But I know of your work.”

“Same,” I said.

“Why do you think I’m here, Ms. Sullivan?”

“Because you believe I’ve broken Canon by turning a human despite her imminent death.”

“Do you admit you’ve broken Canon?”

“I make no admission, other than changing Carlie.”

“Only the barest distinction between those,” she said with a small smile, clasping her hands in front of her.

“I was taught by my father.”

Whether she considered that a threat or explanation, she didn’t show it. She made a noncommittal sound. “Given the time that has already been allocated to this issue, let’s get to the meat of it, shall we? You breached our law. That is plain. Although there were difficulties, Clive offered his terms, and they stand. Name the House that will Commend you and confirm you will submit to Testing.”

“No.”

“Then you will be taken to Atlanta and placed in seclusion until you can agree.”

“No, I won’t.”

She watched me, predator assessing prey. “The manner of your making—the identity of your parents—does not give you license to act as you choose. Rules matter.”

Now she sounded like Clive, although she was much more collected. “They do matter. But let’s be honest, Ms. Heart. Rules are made up.”

Her gaze snapped back to mine.

“Every rule,” I said. “Just words decided by someone in power. But when you get to the core of it, it’s not the words that matter. It’s how they live in the world. The AAM’s rule, this rule about making vampires, is old and it’s cruel. It’s inflexible.”

“Rules aren’t meant to be flexible. They’re meant to be rules.”