House Rules

Please stop calling me that. You’re still officially the Master.” “Oh, I know,” Malik said. “But much like Merit, I find it amusing to irritate you.” As Malik walked down the hallway and around the corner, Ethan turned his pointed gaze on me. I shrugged innocently. “I can’t help it if I’m a trendsetter.

So you traded up?” I asked, walking toward the car and opening the door. “Do you treat your relationships in the same way?” “Yes,” Ethan gravely said. “And I spent four hundred years shopping before I met you.

He stepped forward to keep our bodies aligned, and took my chin in his hand. "I will have you. Body, mind, and soul. And I won't share you with anyone else.

Go get him, tiger, I silently told him. Shouldn’t you be working? he asked. Yes, I said frankly. But the world outside these walls is depressing, and I need the distraction. You may begin impressing me now.

I arched an eyebrow at her. She made an awful sound. "God, you're already Mrs. Sullivan.

I'm taking fifteen, and we're moving this discussion upstairs." "You can have here! I will not listen." "You will listen," Mallory said, "and you'll tell your book club exactly what you heard." "But is like Twilight in real life!" Berna protested. "Sparkles!

Merit. Have you finally decided to ditch the zero and get with the hero?” Ethan cleared his throat—loudly—while I bit back a smile. I didn’t see anything wrong with reminding Ethan that I had other options. Even if they were slightly goofy options I’d never actually take advantage of.

As I'm not currently being chased, I see no need to run.

What do zombies chant at a riot?” “Grrarphsnarg?” he asked, in a surprisingly well-done bit of mindless zombie imitating. “No, but that was really good. Disconcertingly good.” “I was deceased for a time.” “True. But anyway, the rioters get all riled up, and they chant: ‘What do we want? Brains! When do we want them? Brains!’” I fell into a wave of appropriately boisterous laughter; Ethan seemed less impressed. “I truly hope the stipend we pay you doesn’t get spent on the development of jokes like that.

I reject the notion I am capable of doing anything 'not well' ~ Ethan

Ethan could be frustrating at times. Infuriating at others. But there was no doubt he was a Master among men.

I looked at Jonah. “I’m still learning who you are. And you’re my partner, so I appreciate that you’re willing to take a punch for me.” I walked to Ethan and glared up at him. “But you know better than this, Ethan Sullivan.

He unsnapped the top button on his jeans. My eyes widened."Sneaky bastard." I gnawed my lip in pleasure,watching the past,present,and future Master of Cadogan House in the state of utter abandon:shirt on the floor,jeans unbuttoned,his arousal obvious.

Ethan sidled next to me, a hand propped on the shelf. “Come here often?” he said. “Excuse me?” “I see you’re here in this”—he gestured at the shelves—“library all alone. You must be a student here?” He traced a fingertip down the hollow of my throat, lifting goose bumps on my arms. Since my mind hardly worked when he did things like that, it took a moment for his words to register. Was he initiating a bout of role-playing … about a library? “Ethan Sullivan,” I marveled. “You have a library fantasy.” He smiled slyly. “I have a doctoral-student-turned-vampire fantasy.

I gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it upward and over his head,taking a long moment to enjoy the view:smooth,eternally golden skin over lean muscle.

Take of your shirt,"he said. But I hadn't won Ethan Sullivan-and he hadn't won me-by my playing the wilting lily to his alpha predator.I lifted my head. "I am not your possession." "Aren't you?" At my refusal,he moved forward and gripped the hem of my shirt.

The man was walking power and confidence, and he was all mine. “Seriously,” Lindsey whispered, “well done.” “I know, right?

We need to give you two a couple name,” I said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Lucsey, perhaps?” Luc didn’t bat an eyelash; he simply turned a page of the newspaper. “Call us what you want, Sentinel. We already have a name for you.” That was alarming. Not that there was a way to avoid it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted them discussing my relationship around the Ops Room table. “No, you don’t.” “Yes, we do.” Lindsey stirred her spoon noisily around the walls of the yogurt cup to get the remaining drops. “You’re Methan.” “We’re what?” “Methan. Merit and Ethan. Methan.

That guy,” Lindsey said, “is a douche. Asterisk, I hate him. Footnote, he can suck it.

I took a moment before heading inside to share the evening’s most important news in a quick text to Mallory: ETHAN EATS TOAST WITH A FORK. It took a moment before she responded. DARTH SULLIVAN = PRETENTIOUS HOTTIE, she responded.

He wasn’t supposed to know at all, but he certainly shouldn’t find out from her.

The GP appeared in its typical V formation. “Goose on the lawn,” Luc said. “Goose?” I asked. “That V formation. I like to use derogatory terms to describe the GP whenever possible.

True. But anyway, the rioters get all riled up, and they chant: ‘What do we want? Brains! When do we want them? Brains!

We have chosen liberty and self-respect.

Death waits for no vampire. —Ethan Sullivan I like bacon. —Merit

Woe is Merit, the immortal vampire with the never-gray hair and long legs and hot blond boyfriend.

Things happen,” he said. “They happen, and we pick ourselves up, and we get back out there.

The juice was delicious, with the fresh bite and lingering umami of freshly squeezed oranges.

He hung up the phone, and I did so gratefully, rubbing my ear a bit for good measure. I was pretty sure I’d just heard Rick Astley at eardrum-popping decibels, which wasn’t anything I needed to ever experience again. Ever.