“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.”

“Sullivan, just pick it up.""My way is more genteel.""Your way is more tight ass.""Your respect for me, Sentinel, is astounding.""I'd respect you more if you took a bite of that dog.""You don't respect me any.""Like I said, I'd respect you more. More than none.”

“You have to call Darth Sullivan your 'Liege'?"I grinned. "Only if I expect him to answer.”

“Are we ready?” “You have your dagger?” “I rarely leave home without it.” “Then to the Batcave, Sentinel.”

“You're perfect- beautiful, intelligent, intractable in a kind of... attractive way. Headstrong, but a good strategist. An amazing fighter.""But that's not enough?""It's too much. You think I haven't thought about what it might be like to return to my rooms at the end of the night and find you there- to find you in my bed, to have your body and your laugh and your mind? To look across a room and know that you were mine- that *I'd* claimed you. *Me.* Ethan Sullivan. Not the four-hundred-year-old vampire, not the child of Balthasar or the Novitiate of Peter Cadogan. Me. Just me. Just you and me.”

“You’ll be wearing nothing but your Cadogan medal and a smile, Sentinel.”“Is that a prediction?” “It’s a promise.”

“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.”