“How long is the line?”

I picked up my phone, scanned for Luc’s now-nightly announcement for the number of vampires who’d requested an audience with Ethan. Ethan was the only Chicago Master who’d agreed to provide an audience to Rogues, vampires who weren’t affiliated with a particular House. That drew a lot of Midwestern vampires to Cadogan’s gate.

“Only seven tonight,” I reported back, and sent Luc the party details while I was thinking about it.

Ethan sighed. “I still won’t be able to get to them all.”

“If you don’t, they’ll come back. And there’s a safe house if they need shelter in the meantime.” We wouldn’t house all the vampires who showed up at the door, so Ethan and Malik had established a boardinghouse down the block where traveling vampires could safely seek refuge while they waited for an audience with the Master.

I put aside the phone, glanced back at Ethan. “Balthasar.”

“That isn’t a question.”

“It’s a topic of discussion, which you’re avoiding.” I wrapped the sheet around myself, rose to sit on my knees so I could see his face, which was unreadable.

“Is the sheet really necessary at this point?”

“It will keep us from getting distracted.”

“I can see you naked without getting distracted.”

“That’s not exactly a compliment, and quit changing the subject.” I put a hand on his. “You haven’t had a chance to talk about it—about him, about what happened—since it happened.”

Ethan looked away. “Is there anything to say?”

“Well, he tried to seduce me in front of you, so we could start there.”

As predicted, that got me a flaming glare. “It wasn’t seduction. It was magic.” But his tone belied his words.

“So it was. And a betrayal either way.”

Ethan blew out a breath through puffed cheeks.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But things get a little tense between us when we let things stew.”

His look was flat. “Why do I have a sense you actually mean ‘me’ when you say ‘we’?”

My responsive look was even flatter. “Blackmail.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Since Nicole attempted to blackmail you about Balthasar, I think that makes it pretty freaking relevant.”

Ethan growled, pushed his hands through his hair, linked his fingers behind his head. “I’d like him to respect the fact that I intentionally separated myself from him, and perhaps take a graceful walk into the sun. But there is little chance of that.”

He looked at me. “I don’t worry about myself. I worry about you, and I worry about this House.”

“Mallory and Catcher are here.”

“For any direct trouble he might try to cause,” Ethan agreed. He lowered his hands, linked his fingers across his abdomen. “But if he tries to re-create his little European kingdom here? If he treats humans in Chicago like he treated Persephone and the others?” He leaned forward, a line of worry between his eyes. “Consider, Merit, the storm that would rain down upon us, upon vampires.”

He was right; I hadn’t even considered the damage Balthasar might cause by leaving a trail of blood and bodies across Chicago. Our relative peace with the city was short-lived, and we’d only just managed to keep the torches-and-pitchforks types at bay.

“Damn,” I said.

“Exactly.” He sighed. “But we’ve done all that we can for now. Your grandfather is alerted, and he’ll advise the mayor if necessary.”

Mayor Diane Kowalcyzk wasn’t keen on vampires, but we’d helped the city once too often for her to use us as the political lightning rods she preferred. And since Chicago had more vampire Houses than any other city in the country, we had the largest AAM contingent. That made Diane even more interested.

“And your plan? Are you thinking about disavowal?”

“I’m considering it. But I can’t shake the fear he’d act out. I want to talk it through with Malik and Luc when we have time. Which isn’t right now, since we have a real-estate mogul to entertain. Let’s get moving.”

“Do we have to go?”

“Yes. And there’s probably breakfast waiting outside our door, if that’s any incentive.”

Of course it was. I slipped on a robe and opened the front door, found breakfast, newspapers, and Luc’s daily security reports awaiting us.

I picked up the tray and closed the door. Ethan gestured me forward as if awaiting service. “Darth Sullivan desires breakfast.”

I shook my head, placed the tray on the farthest corner of the bed. Someone had to keep his ego in check; might as well be me.

Ethan grumbled but reached for the paper and a mug of coffee. I grabbed a bottle of blood and headed for the closet to grab jeans and a T-shirt.

I wasn’t getting into a dress until it was absolutely necessary.

*   *   *

When we were dressed, I followed Ethan downstairs to the House’s foyer, where a small reception desk had been installed to handle the waiting vampires. It was currently staffed by Juliet, a red-haired House guard who looked delicate but was as fierce as they came. Supplicants sat on benches installed across from the table.

Juliet glanced up, nodded at Ethan. “Sire.”

Ethan nodded at her, then glanced at the vampires—three women, four men—who waited for him.