Luc shook his head ruefully, glanced at Ethan. “Your orders, Sire?”
Ethan smiled. “Wedding decorations are outside my wheelhouse, and Merit’s, I suspect.”
No argument there. I was technically the House’s social chair, but I fell less into the Soiree Planner category than the Crash a Party with a Sword category. I’d left most of the planning to my mother and Helen, both of whom were skilled at planning soirees. And when a Master vampire married a real estate mogul’s daughter, a soiree was unavoidable. I told them “simple and elegant” and “white peonies,” and let them have the run of things. Which meant they’d asked me at least twenty-five questions a night for the past four months.
“Hashtag wedding,” Luc said with a smile.
Lindsey shook her head, mouth tight. “You’re still not using that right.”
“Hashtag oppression,” Luc said. Not for lack of trying, Luc never quite got the references right. Probably not entirely unexpected for a century-old vampire.
“I’m sure Helen appreciates your efforts tonight,” Ethan said. “And I’m sure we will tomorrow.”
I glanced at Luc. “You’ll keep him out of trouble tonight?”
“Scout’s honor,” Luc said, his expression perfectly bland. Since vampires were experts at bluffing, I couldn’t tell whether that was really the truth or a cover for a night of carousing and mischief making.
“If the CPD calls me,” I said, looking at Luc and Ethan in turn, “there will be hell to pay.”
“Ditto,” Lindsey said, flicking Luc’s arm.
Ethan slid his hands into his pockets, lifted his chin in amusement. “Since Catcher will be with us, the odds of an arrest are slim.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Because he works for the Ombudsman’s office, or because he could magic over any trouble?”
“Both.”
As long as it worked.
“And what do you have planned for your soiree?” Ethan asked. “I’m guessing it won’t involve tea sipping and heavy reading.”
I pretended to adjust invisible glasses. “Well, we will be reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica aloud and watching Neil deGrasse Tyson videos on the YouTubes. We might also make time for macramé.”
“I’m sure,” Ethan said. “And as long as you’re back by dawn . . .”
“I will be.”
When his gaze settled on my lips, Lindsey cleared her throat, adjusted her willow branches to check her watch. “We’re leaving in exactly one hour,” she said, then pointed at me. “Prepare to get your groove on.”
Luc narrowed his gaze at her. “You said there wouldn’t be strippers.”
“There won’t be. A bachelorette can get her groove on without strippers. And, dare I say she is entitled to do so the night before she signs up for an eternity of . . .” She glanced cautiously at Ethan. “Of what I’m sure will be faithful and obedient service.”
Ethan made a sound of doubt. “Faithful, yes. Obedient?” He gave me a considering glance. “Rarely.”
“I’m obedient when it counts.”
“And that is our cue to no longer be in this room,” Luc said. “Come on, Blondie.”
“An hour,” Lindsey repeated, stealing another look at me. They walked on, and Ethan and I continued to his office.
When we were alone, I slipped into his arms, savoring the steady sound of his heartbeat, the crisp smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body.
“There haven’t been many moments like this lately,” he said, strong arms around me, head atop mine. “Not with wedding plans and supplicants and Nicole.”
Nicole Heart was head of Atlanta’s Heart House and the founder of the Assembly of American Masters, the new organization of the Masters of the country’s twelve vampire Houses. Chicago had been through a lot supernaturally recently, mainly because a sorceress named Sorcha Reed, Chicago’s high-society version of Maleficent, had ripped through downtown Chicago. We’d taken her down—and prevented her from creating an army of supernaturals—and the mayor had been pretty happy with us. She’d escaped the CPD, but four months later, there’d been no sign of her, and the mayor had stayed happy with us. Nicole wanted to capitalize on those good feelings, which meant lots of phone calls and interviews for Ethan.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I said. “I’ll be glad when tomorrow is done.”