"You should let him solve his own problem," Sinclair said in a low voice, as Nick let himself out. "He's playing on your misplaced guilt."
"Misplaced? We raped his brain. And lied about it. To his face. For over a year."
He shrugged. He'd been a vampire too long; his conscience went right out the window sometimes.
"Have you ever considered - "
"Yes."
"Don't be a wiseass. Have you ever thought that the guy hates us and knows how to kill us, but hasn't?"
"I credit Jessica with that more than Detective Berry's good sense."
"Point," I conceded. "And yeah, it's a little obnoxious that he came over all expecting me to say yes right away - "
"Also, you're flattered."
"I am not! Okay, a little. Listen, this is our chance to win him back!"
"And why," he sighed, rubbing my shoulders, while I tried not to purr and lean into him, "would we want to do that?"
"Listen. Oooh, don't stop. The whole reason you pushed Jess to go out with him was because you wanted a source in the police department." I paused. "Another source, I mean. That reminds me. You've been keeping secrets. More than usual, I mean."
"Oh?" he said silkily, tightening his grip. My collarbones groaned under the pressure. Or maybe that was me groaning. "Because there are one or two things I would like to discuss with you as well, if you're opening that door."
"Ahhhh... well, that's, um - " Fortunately, I was saved by the sound of splintering wood, and then Nick skidded down the foyer, his face a mask of blood.
"Face us, false queen!"
"Oboy," I said, nearly tripping as Sinclair grabbed me and thrust me behind his back. "That doesn't sound good."
