I presumed he meant his green-eyes prediction, and my heart thudded against my chest.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.” My voice was barely a whisper. “You tell me.”
“It’s exactly what you think,” he said. “But there will be tests for you, as well.”
And with those words hanging in the air like so much ripe fruit, he disappeared, leaving me, heart pounding, standing in the hallway.
A child, with Ethan.
Gabriel had as much as confirmed it, even if he hadn’t said the words aloud. My heart blossomed with hope and love and possibility . . . and also fear. What had he meant by “tests”? I’d been attacked, seen my city nearly destroyed and my grandfather nearly killed, and I’d watched Ethan die to save my life. Was it the GP? Was it Ethan’s challenging Darius, or some injury he’d have to endure? And if a child was in our future, was our being together an inevitability? Or was Gabriel’s prophecy the shifter version of a devil’s bargain? Would I get exactly what I wanted, but with some horribly ironic twist?
“Are you all right?” Ethan asked as we walked back to the carriage house. “You seem tense.”
He was right. Gabriel’s words hung thick around my neck; once again, I was too unnerved to voice them to Ethan. I’d kept secrets from him before. Secrets I thought weren’t mine to tell, like my membership in the RG. Revealing that fact had put Jonah at risk as much as it did me.
“I’m fine,” I said as we stepped to the threshold and he turned the key, opened the door. The carriage house was empty, the pillows on the sofa bed tidy again. They’d already gone, leaving the two of us alone.
Ethan closed the door, locked it.
“No, I’m not fine,” I said, the words bursting out of me like air from a pricked balloon. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Fourteen
JUST A BITE
He looked at me, face carefully neutral, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. It was an expression of mild attention, or would have been if his gaze hadn’t been crystalline, his shoulders set. He was a Master vampire, and he was prepared for bad news.
“It’s not bad news.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“It isn’t,” I insisted. “But I think we should sit down.”
“Now I’m definitely worried.” But he moved to the sofa and sat, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, as I took a spot across from him. I wanted to see his face, his eyes.
It all went together—the green eyes and the prophecy and the GP. It was about us, about vampires, about shifters. It was tangled together in my head like a ball of twisted wire. And that made it hard to get out.
“The RG has friends,” I said. “Powerful friends. Including one who did something that helped the House. And to whom I now owe a favor.”
His eyes went flat. He didn’t care to be reminded of my RG membership, and especially not when he thought I’d be confessing something he didn’t want to hear.
“That friend has come to collect. That friend has asked that I convince you to do something that would be dangerous. Potentially deadly, and potentially magnificent.”
Ethan blinked, sat back, crossed one leg over the other. But his eyes stayed cool and on me. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”
“Because of the deadly and dangerous parts.” I dropped the bravado and put it out there. “Because it would pull you away from me. Inevitably.”
His expression softened, just a bit. “I see.”
We were quiet for a moment, magic—fearful and tentative—swirling in the air around us.
“And do you want to tell me what the dangerous and deadly parts are?”
Only if I could make you swear that you wouldn’t do it, I thought. And swear that you would.
And that, at its heart, was the dilemma I faced. That he would do, and would not do, the thing that I anticipated as much as I feared it.
That was when I realized the truth: Either way, I would win. And either way, I would lose. Telling him didn’t matter. Telling him wasn’t the point.
Trusting him with the telling of it—that was the point.
And so I trusted in him, and in us. “There are members of the GP who want you to challenge Darius for his position. Who want you to be their king.”
Ethan’s lips parted, and his eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t make a sound. I wasn’t sure if he was surprised by the idea or that I had connections powerful enough that I could give him information about the GP, instead of the other way around.
“I don’t know what to say.”
I nodded, gave him time to process it.
“I’ve certainly thought about it—what it might be like to hold that position if Darius resigned. The good that could be done. God knows there’s sufficient room to maneuver there. But to challenge a living member? That decision could be deadly.”
“I’m supposed to encourage you,” I told him. “To convince you to do it.”
“Because the person who told you this wants me to hold the position—or they want me out of the way?”
The blood drained from my face. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Lakshmi’s motives might not be pure. I considered our conversation, thought about the hope in her eyes, and dismissed the possibility she was being less than earnest. She was honest that Ethan’s challenge might not be successful. But that didn’t mean she wished him dead.
“I believe the friend wants you to hold the position,” I said. “They respect you and your alliances.”
“But you don’t want me to do it. Why? If I was successful, it would be a profound opportunity for vampires.”
“You may not be successful. You have powerful enemies. And even if you were—I’ve already lost you once. I don’t want to lose you again.”
His expression softened. “You think I would have to choose.”
“Wouldn’t you? And wouldn’t I?”
“What, precisely, would you be choosing between, Sentinel?” His expression was still mild, but there was a bite in his words.
“Between London and Chicago. Between you and the House? Between you and the RG? Being part of the RG while you’re Master is one thing. Being part of it while you’re the king of all goddamned vampires is something entirely different.” Theoretically, an honorable GP meant a quiet RG. But just because I believed in Ethan didn’t mean the rest of the RG wouldn’t want to keep an eye on him. Absolute power, after all, corrupted absolutely.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You cannot shake me loose, Sentinel.”
“I’m not trying to shake you loose,” I assured him. I was just trying to be practical.
Hell, I thought. If we’d already gotten the GP bit out there, I figured I might as well tell him the rest.
“Have you ever talked to Gabriel about prophecies?”
He’d been staring at the floor, but he suddenly lifted his gaze to me. “Prophecies? No. Why?”
I imagined voicing the words would be like confessing you’d found a guy’s secret engagement ring. It was a confession of intimacy I hadn’t yet earned.
“He said in my future—there would be someone with green eyes. Like yours. But not yours. A child.” I cleared my throat. “Our child. Because of some favor I’d do for Gabriel.”
The color drained from his face, even more than you’d expect from a four-hundred-year-old vampire.
Part of me found it gratifying that he’d have the chance to enjoy the same kind of shock I’d been carrying around for months. Part of me found it terrifying, that he’d regret the possibility he’d be permanently attached without having made the choice on his own.
He stood up, paced to the other end of the room.
“Could you maybe say something?” I asked and, as my stomach roiled with nerves, braced myself for the worst. That was part of who I was, part of how I’d been raised. There was always a punishment to bear, a condition attached to the love I was granted.