Hard Bitten - Chloe Neill [53]
I’d known him long enough to call it “typical Sullivan.” It was the kind of action we could have added to the Ethan Sullivan drinking game, falling somewhere between his imperious eyebrow arching and his habit of referring to any Novitiate in his House by position, rather than by name.
“Sentinel,” he finally said, linking his fingers on his desk.
I took a step forward, intent on making him believe how much I regretted what I’d inadvertently told Darius. “Ethan, I am so sorry. You were on the phone, and it didn’t even occur to me to see if anyone was behind me.”
He held up a hand. “You told him where you’d been. I am not sure whether to throttle you now or simply hand you over to the Presidium and let them do it.”
If I were him, I’d throttle me, too. I just nodded.
When Ethan finally looked at me again, there was desperation in his eyes.
“A receiver. In my goddamned House. A House I have watched, guided, parented when necessary. Do you know what an insult that is? To have an administrator—some organizational specialist who couldn’t guide vampires with a map and compass—replacing me? Telling me what I’ve done right or wrong, how I should ‘fix’ the things I’ve broken.”
My heart clenched sympathetically. It must have been hard to hear that not only was the supreme leader of vamps not happy with your work, but he was considering sending someone across the pond to make sure the work was done correctly. It wouldn’t have thrilled me, either.
And the worst part? This was at least partly my fault. I mean, it seemed unlikely Darius would have traveled this far if he didn’t have concerns about the House, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t pushed him over the receivership edge.
“This House is old, Merit. It is a respectable House. The appointment of a receiver is a slap in the face.” He looked away, shaking his head ruefully. “How can I not take that as an insult to all that I’ve done since Peter’s death?”
That Peter was Peter Cadogan, the House’s namesake and first Master. The man who’d held the reins until his death, when Ethan took over.
“I would take it personally, too.”
Ethan barked out a laugh. “It’s hardly that I take it personally, Sentinel. It’s that it’s a slap against me and Malik, Luc, Helen—the entire staff. Every Initiate Commended, every Novitiate who has served. Every sacrifice made. You essentially told him we don’t have things in hand.”
“We don’t if what we saw last night is commonplace. This wasn’t half a dozen vampires and a couple of humans, Ethan. There were dozens of vamps, dozens of humans. The party was huge, and it was loud, and it wasn’t just about a little private sip.”
“So it wasn’t a rave.”
“Not the kind of raves we knew about before. The vamps were on edge, the magic thick. Vamps were picking fights all over the place.”
“Did you and Noah have to defend yourselves?”
I hated lying to Ethan. Hated it. But it wasn’t fair of me to clear my conscience at Jonah’s expense, so I sucked it up and played out the story.
“Defend ourselves, yes. We weren’t involved in any fighting of consequence, although things got nasty when we made our exit. I’d found a human who needed help—drugged or glamoured; I’m not sure which. She needed out, and there were a few vamps who weren’t happy to see her go. Noah spilled blood as a distraction, and the vamps went crazy. The place erupted with fighting, but we got her out and sent her home. She was grateful enough—embarrassed enough—that I don’t think she’ll cause us problems down the road.”
I sighed and looked away. “I hate saying that, Ethan. It mortifies me that I have to think about a woman who’s been in a bad position as a liability. She was made a commodity by those vampires. That shouldn’t happen twice. Not by us.”
I looked back at him, and appreciated the sympathy in his eyes.
“You are a very human vampire,” he affectionately said.
“So you say.”
“I once considered it a liability. And for some vampires, I still do. But for you—let us hope they don’t bleed it out of you.”
We were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. I finally broke the