“You don’t mind when he stares at you.” Cecil jerked his head toward Eldric. "He doesn’t stare,” I said. “He looks.”

“Blast Cecil!” said Eldric. “You have my permission,” I said.”

“I was not staring at you,” he told his plate. I leaned over. “Did you hear that, Dingane’s lunch? He was not staring at you.”He looked up at me crossly. “I was not staring at you.”“I never said you were.” “I was merely explaining that Henry was exaggerating. I did not stare at you.”“Okay,” I stated, implying in my tone that he had done just that.“I didn’t. I-I wasn’t.” “I believe you,” I told him“I may have looked at you a few times to make sure you were doing your job.”“Oh, I see then.”“But I certainly wasn’t staring.”“We’ve established that you were not staring.”He breathed deeply a few times, his eyes burning into mine. “Good.”He’d definitely been staring.”

“Just don’t stare at my ass, Landemere,” he added.“I wasn’t staring at your ass,” Arranulf, who had been staring at his ass, said.”

“Blue." It was Ronan's voice, for the first time, and everyone, even Helen, twisted their head towards him. His head was cocked in a way that Gansey recognized as dangerous. Something in his eyes was sharp as he stared at Blue. He asked, "Do you know Gansey?" ... Blue looked defensive under their stares. She said reluctantly. "Only his name." With his fingers loosely together, elbows on his knees, Ronan leaned forward across Adam to be closer to Blue. He could be unbelievably threatening. "And how is it," he asked," you came to know Gansey's name?”

“No. No!” he says.“I . . .” He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don’t know.“You can’t go. Ana, I love you!”“I love you, too, Christian, it’s just—”“No . . . no!” he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. “Christian . . .”“No,” he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move. What? “Christian, what are you doing?”He continues to stare down, not looking at me. “Christian! What are you doing?”My voice is high-pitched. He doesn’t move. “Christian, look at me!” I command in panic. His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze—he’s almost serene . . . expectant.Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.”