I plucked at my warm sweater, pondering my response. “In your position, trusting someone would be difficult. However, the way you manipulated me isn’t okay. It’s not healthy, and I won’t take it long term. You really hurt me. Even though I had a hunch I knew what you were doing, you ripped me from the friends I’d made—from you—and dumped me on my own without any warning. That’s toxic, and I’m not going to experience it again.”
Killian pressed his palms together. “What does that mean?”
“It means either you trust me more and tell me what’s going on, or, once we take care of the Night Court, we will have an alliance of formality, not friendship,” I said.
Killian cocked an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem fair. You’re asking me to go against instincts and experience.”
“It’s the price of my friendship, Killian,” I said. “Trust me, or we’ll both be miserable.”
His expression was thoughtful, which shocked me. I didn’t think he’d actually care quite this much.
But it was about time to lighten the moment, so I inhaled deeply and forced myself to perk up. “And I still want an apology—a real one,” I stressed.
He snapped on a caressing smirk. “But all of my apologies are real,” he insisted.
“Well they’re not at all convincing,” I grumbled.
“If I apologize properly, you’ll forgive me?”
I thought for a moment. “No. I already have forgiven you—now that everything is out there.”
“Then why is trust still an issue?”
“Forgiveness means giving up my anger at your actions. It doesn’t mean there are no consequences to your actions,” I said.
“How very inconvenient.”
I rolled my eyes. “So sorry you don’t get to have everything you want.”
“There is another matter we should discuss.”
“Hm?” I lazily glanced at him, then tensed.
In the stark light of his office, he looked more vampiric than usual with his eyes glowing red and his slight smirk revealing one of his pronounced fangs. His eyes were usually closer to a shade of obsidian veined with rubies, and typically only intensified when he had stronger emotions—whether he was feeling murderous or smug. AKA, things looked shaky for me.
I sat up and eyed him. “What?”
“I was informed that we ought to define our relationship.” Killian pushed off his desk and strolled closer to me.
I cleared my throat. “Who told you that?”
“Research, and some sources.”
“Research?” I blinked, confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Killian stood so close to my chair his legs brushed my knees, and he thoroughly ignored me. “Where, then, do we stand?”
“Not very close together.” I pointedly tucked my legs up onto the chair.
His chuckle was smokey. “That isn’t quite what I meant.”
I squirmed in my chair, aware that this could end badly.
I wasn’t an idiot. I was painfully aware of how handsome Killian was, and I was competent enough to know he hadn’t kissed me on a lark. But I was also intelligent enough to know that if we couldn’t get the trust issue worked out, things would end badly. And I would be the one to pay the price. I didn’t love by halves—it was why Killian’s lack of trust hit me so hard, same as Celestina and Josh’s rejection.
“Nothing changes,” I blurted out. “Until we fix our issues.”
Killian thoughtfully studied me. “You mean until I show that I trust you?”
“Yes.”
“Your butt is still off limits to me, then?”
“Yes!” I bristled at him and sank deeper into the chair as if it could protect me. “Why are you so obsessed with my butt, anyway?”
“Mere curiosity. You are profoundly protective of it, so I imagine there must be a reason for that.”
I groaned and mashed my palms into my eyes. “You’re the worst.”
Killian laughed again. This time, it wasn’t quite so throaty, and his eyes didn’t glow so much—though he still didn’t move.
I leaned my head back as I studied him. “Is it really okay for me to borrow Gavino? I mean—if he doesn’t want to come he doesn’t have to.”
“You’re allowing him an honor he’s sure to hold over every member of my household,” Killian dryly said. “He’s more than fine with it. And yes, I can lend you Gavino. I’m surprised you didn’t try for Josh or Celestina.”
“I didn’t part well with them.”
“You fault them for their loyalty to me?”
“No. I was hurt by the way they treated me as I left.” I sighed. “They could have at least said goodbye, or wished me luck—anything.”
“Ahh,” Killian said. “Well, I’m sure you will have ample time to discuss it now that we have our alliance.”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” I muttered.
“You are willing to forgive me, but not my First or Second Knight?” Killian raised both eyebrows. “I don’t know if I should be concerned or rejoice at the preferential treatment.”
“It’s not preferential,” I said. “I expected scheming and manipulating from you—you don’t even try to hide it. But Josh and Celestina treated me like a real friend, and then ripped that from me. Since they weren’t scheming like you, it revealed what they really thought of me.”
“I wouldn’t say they weren’t scheming,” Killian said almost dismissively. He glanced at the door behind us, probably hearing something I couldn’t.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Your dear Great Aunt Marraine is giving Rupert a tongue lashing in the hallway for sneering at your family,” he said.
I hopped to my feet. “We better intervene,” I said. “Or they’ll be at each other’s throats.”
“Fine, but I have one last question for you,” Killian said. “If you were still angry with me, why did you agree to meet and discuss an alliance?”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I was mad at you, and I knew we needed to define our boundaries…but I’m furious with the Night Court for attacking you guys in what was supposed to be neutral territory.”
“Ahhhh.” Killian smiled. “Your virtues stirred up righteous indignation, I see.”
“What?”
“Not to worry. It seems I ought to be thankful to the Night Court for provoking your champion-like tendencies.” He joined me at the door and gestured for me to continue. “Now, let us go save our wayward kinsmen.”
“Great Aunt Marraine is a lot of things. I don’t know that I would ever call her wayward. Pushy, yes. Opinionated, for sure. Stubborn, heck yes. Naturally, I assume this means she and Rupert will be besties.”
“What an auspicious start to our alliance.”
“Totally.”
The following week I puttered with two refrigerated blood packs as I waited for Gavino to arrive at House Medeis.
I’d learned more about blood refrigeration in the past few days than I had ever wanted to. Apparently, an extremely accurate fridge was required for the blood, because if it froze the red cells burst—something vampires didn’t appreciate in their food, apparently.
I mentally went down my checklist as I adjusted the shades in the room.
I’d chosen what everyone called the “front parlor” to welcome Gavino. It was a little more ornate than I wanted since it had an onyx fireplace—which was lit and crackling—a fancy tiled ceiling I had been informed was called a “coffered ceiling” (Momoko, it seemed, was a secret HGTV fanatic) dark wooden paneling on the lower portion of the walls, and antique furniture. However, it was also the least sunny sitting room at this time of the day, and I wanted to make sure Gavino felt comfortable. We’d probably be talking for a while—I needed to explain to him some of House Medeis’s…eccentricities, and my family was going to pass through so they could slowly introduce themselves to him one at a time instead of overwhelming him at dinner.
The doorbell for the driveway gate rang.
“I’ll get it!” Felix thundered down the hallway to greet our vampire guest.
I gave one last look at the snacks I’d put out—some crackers and cheese, though Gavino usually just nibbled at human food so I didn’t know if he’d really want to eat—and turned to the parlor door just in time for Great Aunt Marraine to bustle through.
“How nice!” She appropriately cooed, cupping her plump cheeks with her hands. “Your little vampire friend will feel quite welcome! We’ll all make sure of it.”
“He’s not exactly little,” I said.
“Oh, pooh,” Great Aunt Marraine wrinkled her nose at me. “Everyone is little to the likes of me.” She winked, flashing her neon pink eyeshadow. She’d changed her dyed stripe of color in her silvery-gray hair from blue to pink, and had adjusted her wardrobe accordingly.
“How so?” I asked, though I got distracted when I felt the warm but dry touch of House Medeis mentally poking me.
Great Aunt Marraine chuckled. “At my age, you realize just how small the world is. Why, I—”
The House poked me again. “I’m sorry, Great Aunt Marraine, could you give me a moment? The House wants something.” I expectantly turned to the wall.
“Oh. Well. The House is important,” Great Aunt Marraine rambled uncharacteristically. (She was never one to lack words, but usually she had a point she was driving you to, so this was a little odd.)
I filtered her out as I tuned in to House Medeis.
Since my Ascension ceremony at the very end of summer, my relationship with the magical House had drastically deepened.
Previously I had to guess how it was feeling and what it wanted—which wasn’t too much of a problem since it was very clear on speaking its mind. If it was mad, it might express this by taking away all hot water from me, or by sending a raccoon down a chimney, which it had done once when I was a kid and broke a window but blamed it on the next-door neighbors. (Let me tell you, after that I was an extremely honest child. Nothing traumatizes you quite like taking an angry, sooty raccoon to the face.)