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“What now?” I glance up at the dorm. With dozens of windows—most of them dark or covered by blinds and curtains—and no way in without engaging in some creative entry skills, it’s not likely we’ll have much luck keeping an eye on Devin tonight.

“Now we call it a night,” Cas says, already turning to head back down the path.

I trail after him. “That’s it? We could still try to track down the other two students he was with, maybe go back and try the building they were working in and see if they left something unlocked, or stake out the dorm and—”

“By all means, Ophelia, feel free to stay and keeping working. I, for one, am heading home.”

Irritation sparks at the lazy drawl in his voice. “Great work ethic. I can see exactly why Blair has you as his ringer.”

Cas gives me an indulgent smile over his shoulder, never breaking his stride. “Blair trusts my instincts and my intuition, and both are telling me we’ve learned what we need to tonight.”

“And that would be…?”

“That this boy, Devin, is just that. Aboy. Living his life, in too deep with Haverstad and the campaign. Or, at the very least,not doing anything nefarious on campus with his late night art project.”

It’s hard to disagree with that when my own instincts are telling me the same thing, but I can’t quite drop it as we make our way back across campus to where we left the car.

The closer we get, the more I want to keep arguing with him. I want to stall, to keep working, to avoid getting back into that car and the possibility of continuing our quiet, bitingly honest conversation from earlier.

Work is much easier than facing all of that again.

“But that doesn’t mean we still couldn’t—”

“Ophelia.” Cas stops walking in the middle of the path and turns to face me. “It’s late. It’s cold. We got the answers we came for. And since you were up and off for your run with the sunrise this morning, I assume you could use an early night, if this still qualifies.”

“How do you know when I left for a run?”

The fact that he’s paying that close attention to me is… unsettling, to say the least.

He gives another careless shrug. “I don’t always sleep. And you weren’t exactly quiet when you slammed your van door shut.”

I huff an irritated breath, but Cas is already moving again. “I didn’tslamanything.” Part of me is well-aware how childish I must look protesting and chasing after him, but again, I can’t ever seem to get myself to shut up around him. “And if you’re going to be a creep and keep tabs on me, I’ll take my van back to the industrial park.”

“No, you won’t.” He doesn’t even look at me this time, just keeps up his brisk stride until we’re all the way back to the car. “You like my kitchen too much, and my bathroom. You’re not going anywhere.”

I really, really don’t like how right he is, and, with no way to avoid the inevitable, I give up my bitching and climb into the passenger seat.

Itryto ignore the slight, triumphant smile on Cas’s lips as we start the drive home, and Itryto be a better person and stop arguing with the handsome vampire who’s being more generous with me than I probably deserve.

Try. And fail.

“You can stop gloating, you know.”

That smile grows even wider at my grumbled complaint. “I’m doing nothing of the sort.”

“You are.”

“Never,” he swears with mock-solemnity, and the unlikely tug at the corners of my lips makes me want to fight him even more, if just for the sport of it.

“So, where do you watch me leave for my morning run? The front windows, or up in that tower of yours?”

“The second floor landing. There’s an exceptionally comfortable set of chairs in front of the window that overlooks the drive.”

“Oh really, and what do you—”

“Ah, not so fast. It’s my turn to ask you a prying question.”

Despite my best efforts, I snort a laugh. “Fire away.”