But I hesitated as the thought occurred to me that two years ago, he would have flown out on his private jet. He said he was being environmentally conscious, but I wondered if it was more than that. “Hey, tell Ellasbeth’s mom happy birthday for me.”

“I will.” He sipped his coffee, focus vacant as he put his elbows on his knees and stared at the future. “It’s only for a week,” he whispered, then pushed back and up, forcing a smile. “Is David going with you today to look at more property?”

There was jealousy in his voice. I could hear it. “Yep,” I said brightly, feeling loved, but also a little annoyed. If Trent came property hunting with me, the seller would jack up the price, thinking he was helping me pay for it. David was a quiet presence no one knew, and his insight into insurance was a big plus. “It hasn’t come up on the market yet, but it looks good, and if I’m lucky, I’ll have a new place by the time you get back.”

“If not, you can always move in with me,” he said softly. “The spelling lab is sitting there empty. I’m not using it.”

I turned my hand palm up under his and gave it a squeeze. “It’s too far out, Trent,” I said plaintively, though I’d used his mother’s refurbished spelling lab on the odd weekend. “No one will trek out there looking for help.”

“They used to,” he muttered as he shifted to put his ankle on a knee.

But they don’t anymore, I finished silently. No one wanted Trent’s help now that his Sa’han status was in question, and because of that, he was running out of favors owed to him, favors that he had once used to get things done. The above-the-law power had made him the elven Sa’han—but no more.

My chest hurt, and I held my breath to quash the pain as I looked at Ellasbeth doing mom-things with the girls, elegant and competent both. She could give that back to him, but only if I was out of the picture, or more realistically, out of Trent’s bed. Sure, he could make a few more babies with Ellasbeth out of wedlock and satisfy the letter of the elven law, but that wouldn’t rub out that he was in love with me, and my being a demon, even a witch-born demon, meant that was unacceptable.

Ellasbeth looked up as if feeling my gaze on her, giving me a somewhat smug smirk. Maybe her hearing was better than I thought.

I didn’t want to move in with Trent. Oh, I loved him and the girls, but it was more than needing to be close to the city center for work. Everything was easy for him. He wanted to make it easy for me. It sounded great, except I’d never know if my success was thanks to me or him, and I wanted it to be me.

Unfortunately, moving in with Trent was looking more and more probable, even if only temporary. I had a bare two weeks before Constance Corson, Cincinnati’s incoming master vampire, kicked me out of Piscary’s old digs and took possession of it and Cincy both. Her people had been filtering in all month, causing trouble as they massed in the bars and hot spots to push out the old order with threat and fang. There’d been a surprising resistance, and as expected, the I.S. was ignoring it all, seeing as Constance was simply exerting her rightful power as the incoming master vampire: their new boss, basically. The human-run FIB couldn’t do anything—obviously. So far, Constance’s people were keeping the threats vamp on vamp. But that might change after she took control, and everyone was worried. Reason three for not leaving Cincy at the moment.

“I want you to be careful while I’m gone,” Trent said, and I turned, surprised at not only his words but the real concern in the pinch of his green eyes.

“I’m always careful,” I said, but just that he’d brought it up meant something was wrong. “What is it?” I said, voice low as I leaned closer.

He took a breath, then pretended to take a sip of coffee to hide his moving lips. “It may be nothing, but we might have had an attempted break-in at the estate last night.”

Might have? My expression fell. I could feel it. “I’m coming with you,” I said, reaching for my phone to call Jenks.

“No.” He touched my hand, stopping me. “It was probably a nuisance attempt.”

But his smile wasn’t quite right. I would’ve believed him six months ago, but now? I could spot his tells better than Quen almost.

And he knew it. Seeing my disbelief, Trent eased back into the chair to watch the passing world. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it except the three vamps Quen scared over the wall weren’t in Cincy’s facial-recognition database.”

I slowly nodded. “Out-of-town vamps causing trouble. I’m coming with you.”

His gaze flicked to me, worry gripping my core when he smiled lovingly. “Rachel, I’d like nothing more than you coming with me, but not because three inept members of Constance’s camarilla scaled the wall to mutter threats at me through my security system.”

“Threats? What did they say?”

His hand in mine was warm, and he lifted it to give my knuckle a kiss. “Demanded that I acknowledge that Constance is the law in Cincinnati and the Hollows.”

“Trent—”

“Relax, it’s not anything that was unexpected,” he said. “And as you said, I’m too far out to be a direct influence on anything that happens in Cincinnati.” His lips pressed in thought and his focus blurred.

I gave his hand a squeeze, and his attention returned. “Promise you’ll call if anything else happens. The second it does,” I prompted.

“I will.” His gaze went to his two girls. “Promise.”

He would. That I believed. If there was trouble, I could be there in the time it took for me to shake a demon from his “poor me” sulk and buy a line jump. My credit was good.

“Here,” he said, twisting where he sat, and my eyes widened when he took a ring box from his suit pocket. “This is for you. It has nothing to do with Constance’s threats, but I know I’ll sleep better at night.”

“Uhh . . .” I stammered. Trent was not the kind of guy to give jewelry. A gun, a spell, or a charm, yes, but not jewelry unless it was a gun, a spell, or a charm, and I took the small gray box, glad he hadn’t dropped down on one knee right there in the airport terminal. Yes, Ellasbeth was the mother of his child and he was devoted to another little girl who called Quen dad, but he was still single.

“It’s a spell,” he said, pressing close with the scent of cinnamon and wine. “Took me an entire month to research.”

Shoulders relaxing, I opened the box to find a delicate pinky ring, the interwoven bands of silver holding a pearl. “Oh, Trent, it’s beautiful,” I said as I pulled it from the box—hesitating at the faint tingle of a charm. “What does it do?”

“It’s so you don’t forget me.”