Ethan beat me to a response. “Thank you. But you should compliment Merit as well. She cleans up nicely.”
Luc snorted, glanced at me. “And you don’t look half-bad yourself, Sentinel.”
“Thank you, Luc. He’s just jealous. He prefers to be the arm candy.”
“I think you’ll both do,” Luc assured.
“Anything?” Ethan asked, the question clear, even if unspoken.
Luc shook his head. “Quiet as a mouse, still as a rock.”
I knew that line, had played the game in elementary school, a ploy to keep children still and quiet.
“I have an idea,” Ethan said, “and I’d like your thoughts, your analysis.”
Luc put his phone away, put his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”
“Disavowal.”
“All right, all right, all right,” Luc said with a grin. “I like an aggressive strategy.”
I actually recognized that movie reference—an unusual win for Luc—but let the applause pass, since we were short on time.
“I’ll talk to Malik, have the Librarian look into it.”
Ethan nodded. “Brody’s driving?”
“He’s the best defensive driver we’ve got. He’s waiting at the gate. I’m glad to see you’ve got weapons,” he added, gesturing toward the katanas. “Although I do wonder about the purse.”
reminded me—I’d need something to hold my phone, so I grabbed a simple black clutch from the closet.
I’d just stepped into the bedroom again when the doors opened, and Ethan strode in like a man who owned the world.
He wore a superbly tailored black tuxedo—pants, two-button jacket, and bow tie—that accentuated his lean frame. He’d slicked back his thick golden hair, tying it at the nape of his neck, which enhanced his already striking features—cheekbones cut from marble, sculpted lips, piercing eyes.
He didn’t catch our appreciative looks, because his gaze was on his watch. “I hope you’re ready, because we’re already behind.”
“Ahem,” Lindsey said. “Sire?”
At the sound of her voice, he looked up, his gaze shifting from Lindsey to me, his eyes going enormous. “Sentinel.”
Lindsey lifted a finger, pointed it at the door. “And I’m just going to take that as my cue to leave. You know, before the panting and heavy petting.”
Neither of us said a word as she slipped out.
Ethan took a step forward, then another. “I am . . . speechless. You look absolutely beautiful. Statuesque. Exotic. Poetic. Not that you aren’t usually beautiful, but this is . . .”
“Different,” I finished with a smile.
“Yes. Different.” He touched a lock of hair, spun the curl around his finger. “Another side of you, of my dedicated Sentinel.”
He lifted my hand, turned my palm, pressed his lips to the pulse in my wrist. The kiss—the connection, the love, the magic—sent sensation up my arm, down my spine again.
“You look very handsome, too.”
He arched an eyebrow with obviously wicked intent. “Do I?”
“You know you do, so don’t pretend otherwise. You look like a prince.”