“You look great,” Spence said from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal henley.
“I look like I’m trying too hard.”
“You look like you’re wearing a sweater.” He stood and moved behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders. “It’s just dinner.”
“It’s notjustdinner.” She glared at him in the mirror. “It’s the ‘hey Mom and Dad, I’m fucking your best friendandhis boyfriend’ dinner.”
Spence’s reflection smiled at her. “When you put it that way, maybe now I’m a little nervous, too.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’ll be okay. We’re in a public place, and your dad isn’t going to make a scene. They love you. They want what’s best for you.”
She stepped into the bathroom and opened the drawer they’d cleared out for her makeup. Shit, she needed to wash her brushes, but not now. She grabbed the one she used for primer and got started.
“I’m not even mad at Zander anymore, and how fucking annoying is that?” She dotted primer on her forehead, cheeks, chin, and began blending. “Iwantto be mad at him for being high-handed and making decisions without me, but—” She paused while she worked under her eyes andthen continued. “I hate that he’s right, but he is. Dad’s going to hear about it, and it’s better coming from us.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to like how he handled it.”
“No, but I can’t be pissed at him for doing the logical thing just because the logical thing is uncomfortable.” She finished, changed brushes, and grabbed her contour palette. “So I’m stuck being angry at thesituation, which is significantly less satisfying than having someone to be angry with.”
He smiled. “Look at you, adulting like a pro.” His smile faded. “You could be angry at your parents for making you feel like you need their permission.”
Emmy glanced at him, then looked back to her face in the mirror. Just a touch of contour. She didn’t want to look like she’d triedtoohard, and yet, she wanted to look pulled together. “I don’t need their permission.”
“I know. But you’re acting like you do.”
She stopped adding contour around her hairline and met his gaze in the mirror. “That’s not fair.”
His voice was gentle but confident. “You’re twenty-four. You’re brilliant. You’re working your ass off at school and enjoying it, mostly. You’re happy in the coterie. And you’re about to go explain yourself to your parents like you did something wrong.”
“I’m in a relationship with someone they trusted to look after me.”
“You’re in a relationship with someone who respects you and treats you well. The fact that he’s also their friend is just … a complication. Not a crime.”
Emmy worked the dark under her cheeks and changed out the brush so she could do the pink on her cheeks while she considered what he was saying, and then met his gaze in the mirror again. “When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been this wise. You just weren’t paying attention.” He leaned down and kissed her temple. “Come on. You’re beautiful. Let’s go face the firing squad.”
“I need to do eyeliner and maybe just a little eyeshadow. I need to dig my wool socks out of the bottom of my drawer, too.” And she needed to curl her eyelashes and add mascara, but no need in listing everything. Shit, did she want to do lipstick? Or just a ton of chapstick? Maybe her tinted lip balm.
Ten minutes later, Emmy’s hair was fixed so it would still look good when she took her hat off, her makeup was flawless without looking overdone, and she had her wool socks and warmest boots on.
She was surprised when Spence headed for the elevator, but she didn’t argue. Not many people in the silo had access to it, but of course Spence and Zander did. She figured Zander would probably give her access if she asked, but she didn’t intend to.
Zander was in the first-floor office, bent over a tablet with Lucien when they arrived. He lookedup as they entered, his gaze sweeping over Emmy in a way that made her feel seen and settled at once.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Not even a little bit, but I don’t see a way around it, so I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
He wrote something on a few sticky notes, which he affixed to different sheets of paper, and told Lucien, “I don’t think I’ll be gone longer than three hours.” He sighed. “I might be, but you know the drill, if this takes longer.”
“I do.”
The three walked up the steps and through the Aurora Ballroom together, the cavernous space quiet at this hour. A rack of heavy parkas stood near the entrance, and Emmy put her own cap on over her hair before donning a parka and then lifting the hood over her cap. She zipped and buttoned everything, a little claustrophobic with most of her face covered.
Spence did the same. Dragons and wolves can handle normal cold, but it was minus thirty-eight degrees outside. That’sfuck-youweather.
However, Zander just wore his normal heavy wool suit coat. Vampires aren’t bothered by normal cold, and this wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, but dressing like this was an alpha thing, proof of his badassery. Also, there was no need to pretend humanity — everyone in town knew exactly who and what he is.
Outside, the arctic wind hit like a physical wall despite the extreme-weather gear, and she hurried toward thewaiting SUV, something massive and black with snow tires that looked like they could handle the apocalypse.
