“And maybe leprechauns will poop rainbows on your pillow.”

“Have you ever noticed that however uncomfortable you might have been when you first went to bed—the room too hot or too cold; the pillows not quite right; the mattress lumpy; the sheets scratchy by the time you should get up, your bed has transformed itself into the Platonic ideal of beds? The room is cool, the bed is soft, and the pillow may as well have been God’s Own Headrest. The transformation inevitably happens, of course, when you’re obligated to get up and out, when nothing sounds better than hunkering down in a pile of cool cotton.”

“He grinned at me, his ridiculously blue eyes tripping my heart. “You say what’s on your mind, don’t you, Parker? I like that.”I rolled my eyes. “You have to stop flirting with me, Shepherd, or we’re never going to get anything done.”“Flirting? You’re the one who’s getting me all riled up.”“Oh, please. You’re all, ‘Here, Lily, have some candy.’ It’s obvious who’s flirting here.”“Then maybe I should kiss you.”

“You cannot seriously think you’re going to fight this guy. He could kick your ass with one arm tied behind his back, much less with all his voluminous vampire powers. He’s probably stronger than you, faster than you. He can probably jump higher. Hell, he can probably glamour you into making out with him right there on the mats.”We simultaneously looked over to where Ethan, half naked, was toeing off his black leather loafers. The muscles in his abdomen clenched as he moved. So did the lines of corded muscle across his shoulders.God, but he was beautiful.I narrowed my gaze.Beautiful but evil. Wicked. The repugnant dregs of foul malevolence. Or something.“Jesus,” Mallory whispered. “I want to support your quest for revenge and all, but maybe you should just let him glamour you.” She looked at me, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Either you’re fucked, or you’re fucked, right?”

“Let’s just remember, Sullivan, that I want you for your smoked meats and your smoked meats only.”He barked out a laugh. “Touché, Sentinel.”

“That took all of three minutes," he pointed out, sprinkling red pepper across his noodles."And was kind of anticlimactic," Mal said, "since you just stared at the microwave the entire time. I figured you'd at least give some kind of invocation, maybe some gnawing the plastic. Growling." She ate another forkful of spaghetti, then offered, "Clawing the ground. Barking.""I'm a vampire, not a corgie.”

“Ethan extended his hand. "Mr. Merit. Thank you for your help." My grandfather shook his hand, but he also shook his head. "Thank your Sentinel. She's a fine representative of your House." Ethan looked at me, pride-and love?-in his eyes. "We're in agreement there.”