Biting Bad: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (17 page)

“Just thinking,” I said, smiling a little.

“About?”

“How much things change.”

He walked toward me and pressed a hand to my cheek, smiling slyly. “You were thinking about us.”

I nodded. “About what we were, and what we’ve become.”

“And how I wooed you with my brilliance and sophistication?”

“Or your narcissism,” I teased. “I’m going to change clothes.”

Ethan lay down on the bed, one arm behind his head, ankles crossed. “All right,” he said. “I’m ready.”

“Dirty. Old. Man,” I repeated. But he had a point. There was one small room, and not much privacy.

“I’m not going to strip for you,” I said, turning to the bureau and flipping through a drawer. Everything in my current clothing rotation was upstairs. The bureau held the remainder—college and grad school T-shirts and slightly out-of-style numbers that I hoped would be more popular next year.

With minutes before the sun rose, I grabbed an old NYU T-shirt, pulled off my jeans and shirt, and slipped it on.

“That was hardly worth the cost of admission,” Ethan commented.

“The cost of admission was free,” I pointed out. “And I was changing for my benefit, not yours.” I gestured grandly toward the room. “The stage is yours, my friend.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

I sat down on the bed and mirrored his posture. “I expect you to take it off, and I expect you to shake it. In that order.”

“Hmmph” was all he said. As I looked on, he stood up, pulled his shirt over head, and kicked off his shoes.

By my calculation, that left a Master vampire in the middle of my bedroom, shirtless and staring back at me with a predictably arched eyebrow.

“You aren’t done,” I pointed out, but with waning enthusiasm. Not for the subject—he was as hot as ever—but for consciousness. The sun was nearly on the rise, and sleepiness had begun to set in.

Either sensing my sudden exhaustion or faced with exhaustion of his own, he slipped off his trousers without a performance.

“Wait—I nearly forgot,” he sleepily said. He walked to the bureau and picked up a blue velvet box I didn’t recognize and hadn’t realized was there.

“What’s that?”

“The payment for dinner with your parents tomorrow.”

“Dinner with my . . . Oh crap.”

I’d totally forgotten about that, although in fairness the riots had provided a pretty good excuse.

“Are you sure leaving the House is a good idea? We all agree Cadogan’s on the list.”

“And we’re having dinner with one of the most important men in the city,” he said. “I’m not thrilled about the timing, but we agreed to go. Your father is clearly trying to mend fences. I’m not taking any position on that—it’s between you and him—but we need friends, and we can’t afford to be picky.”

He sat down on the bed beside me, cradling the box in his hands. The opening of a velvet box usually led to something interesting, even if Ethan was going to have to make this “interesting” relatively quick. I could already feel the slow, flaming rise of the sun pulling on my eyelids like brass weights.

“Are you proposing?” I drowsily asked.

“When I propose, you’ll know it.”

My heart stuttered, pushing me awake again. “
When?
What do you mean ‘when’?”

“I stand by my statement,” Ethan said, opening the box and handing it over.

Inside sat a gleaming silver pendant shaped like a droplet, draped on a silver chain. Pressed into the back, like a jeweler’s mark, was an elegant “C” surrounded by tiny but neat script: “Cadogan House, Chicago.”

An immortal drop of blood, marked by our Cadogan membership. It was a perfect reminder of our origins, and our loyalties.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, wishing I could trace a finger across its curve, but loathe to mar the surface. “The House will like this very much.”

“I hope so,” Ethan said, closing the box and putting it on the nightstand. “Because they’re going to have to wear them for a really long time.”

Ah, vampire humor. Thank God it never got old, said no one ever.

“Bedtime?” I said, but I was already tucking into the sheets and flipping off the nightstand light.

Wordlessly, Ethan turned off the lights, and I shifted to make room. He climbed in beside me, and we spooned together to conserve precious space. Even so, Ethan’s feet hung off the edge of the bed.

It was a small consolation that the sun would knock us unconscious, and we wouldn’t much care how comfortable we were . . . or weren’t. I moved closer into his arms and the warmth of his body, my eyes growing heavier as the sun began to rise, the stars faded, and daylight came again.

MEET THE PARENTS

E
leven hours later, the sun fell, and I awoke sweaty in a tangle of arms and legs.

Not the good kind of tangle.

The two-adults-sleeping-in-a-twin-sized-bed kind of tangle.

I peeled myself from Ethan’s grasp, but I lost my balance in the process and tumbled to the floor in a heap.

It was going to be one of those kinds of evenings.

Ethan peered over the edge of the bed. “Trouble, Sentinel?”

I growled at him. “I’m fine. At the risk of sounding insensitive, how long will the Grey House vampires be here?”

“Long enough for you to incur at least two or three more moderate injuries, probably.” He sat up and flipped his legs over the bed, then offered me a hand.

“In all seriousness,” I said, when I was upright again, “do they have any leads on a place to stay? It’s going to take a while to get the roof fixed. The mechanical gizmo was complicated.” It sensed the rising and falling of the sun, and provided light or shade to the atrium accordingly.

“And it’s February,” I added. February was not a productive construction month in Chicago. It was simply too cold for it.

Ethan plucked up his phone from the nightstand. “I’m not certain. They’ll probably have to look for something intermediate—a hotel—until they can find semipermanent housing while the construction’s under way. They’ve not even been here twenty-four hours, Sentinel. Let’s try to be gracious, shall we?”

I muttered a few choice words.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Answer it,” I directed. “You’re mostly dressed.”

“You’re already out of bed. Besides, it’s for you.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m psychic.”

“No, you’re arrogant. That’s a different thing.”

Since Ethan made no move to get up, and the visitor knocked insistently again, I walked to the door, smoothing back my hair before pulling it open.

Helen stood in the hallway, a black dress bag in her hands. She was already dressed in her signature tweed suit, pearls in her ears and around her neck.

“Good evening, Merit,” she said, extending the bag. “For dinner with your parents.”

I took the bag, and Helen turned and walked down the hall again, her pace efficient and businesslike.

I shut the door and found Ethan smiling at me with obvious amusement.

“I am not currently accepting commentary.”

“Buck up, Sentinel,” he said, rising and wrapping his arms around me. “You’re about to don a ridiculously expensive dress that any number of Hollywood celebutantes would love to wear.”

“Oh?” I said, glancing down at the bag with interest.

“As it turns out, a number of designers were thrilled at the possibility of being the first couturier of vampire fashion. You’re quite the trendsetter.”

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I joked, but couldn’t help frowning.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked.

“It’s just—I worry about leaving the House when there could be an attack.”

He tipped up my chin with a finger. “We are allowed to be ourselves. Ethan Sullivan and Caroline Evelyn Merit, without the obligations of our House between us.”

“I know. But I feel bad gallivanting off in a party dress”—I jiggled the dress bag for effect—“when there are things to worry about here.”

“We aren’t leaving it alone,” he reminded me. “The House is currently guarded by a full cadre of humans and two Houses of vampires, including Scott, Luc, Jonah, and both guard corps. If you and I are the two vampires that make a difference in any battle, then Scott and I have truly commended the wrong people.”

I had to give him that, and not just because I’d seen Jonah wield two katanas. “And how does Luc feel about our leaving?”

“If you must know, Luc and Malik think it’s a good idea.”

“A good idea? Because of my parents?” I asked.

“No,” Ethan said shortly.

It took me a moment to understand why they felt that way—and why it irritated him.

“They want you away from the House in case there’s an attack,” I said. “They want you safely on the other side of town instead of going down with the ship.”

Ethan did not look thrilled at that possibility. “I would not go down with my ship. I would fight for it, as is my right. I am the Master of this House.”

“I know.” My guilt could hang around if it wanted, but Luc had a point. “They’re your subjects, and you’re their liege. You gave them immortality, and for that, they want you to keep yours. If I must take you away from danger,” I said grandly, “then I must.”

Ethan checked his watch. “As much as I love it when you talk duty to me, you’re procrastinating again. Get ready. I want to check in with the guards before we leave, and you don’t want to be late to dinner.”

I definitely did not. The quickest way to exacerbate a dinner with my parents was being late for dinner with my parents.

Well, other than bringing zombies to dinner. Because who kept brains in the fridge?

“I’ll shower,” I said. “You find caffeine. I’m going to need it.”

—

While Ethan was downstairs, I showered and brushed out my hair, then donned the necessary undergarments, and put on mascara and lip gloss.

The basics accomplished, I unzipped the bag and took a look.

Ethan, not surprisingly, had done it again. The dress fit the event perfectly. It was a tailored sheath made of layered silk, with a belted waist and capped sleeves. It fell to just below the knee, and the bodice was dotted with birdlike whispers of white across a black background.

I slipped the dress from the hanger, unzipped it, and stepped inside, carefully raising the silk inch by inch to avoid ripping the delicate fabric.

I managed to get the zipper together, but only halfway up my back before the sleeves fought back.

Ethan picked that moment to walk back inside, a steaming cup of what smelled like Earl Grey in hand. He found me standing in the middle of the room, the dress still hanging from my shoulders, my arm across my breasts.

“Well,” he said, putting the drink on a table and his hands on his hips. “Sentinel, you are a sight.”

“Can you please zip me up?”

“I’d rather stand here and enjoy this particular view.” I nearly rolled my eyes, until I realized what he was wearing.

While I’d been in the shower, Ethan had dressed in a sleek black suit, with a low, five-button vest beneath his jacket. I’d said before he’d have made a delectable model, but this look cinched it. With his green eyes and golden hair, he looked like he’d stepped from an ad for a dark and smoky whiskey.

As I held up my hair, he turned around and fastened the dress, then stood behind me for a moment, his eyes on my image in the mirror that hung on the back of the closet door.

“Leave your hair down,” he said, his eyes seeming to turn greener as we watched each other in the mirror.

“Down?” I asked, piling it atop my head. “I was thinking a topknot.”

“Down,” he insisted.

I dropped the faux bun, and he ruffled my hair so that it fell across my shoulders, a dark curtain around my face and pale blue eyes.

He was right.

In this just-snug-enough sheath, with my hair down and the pale cast of vampire to my skin, I looked like a blue-blooded heiress. A vampiric aristocrat with an agenda and the will to see it through.

“Not bad,” I said.

“Indeed,” Ethan agreed, before nudging me aside and opening the shirt box he’d brought inside, revealing a half-dozen pocket squares that ranged in color from white to just slightly off-white.

While I looked on, he tucked one, then the other, carefully into his jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Selecting a square,” he said, gazing at his reflection.

“For my parents?”

“For your parents, your siblings, your nieces and nephews,” he said. “For you. Because I want to make a good impression.”

“You’ve met my parents before.”

“I have,” he said, and met my eyes in the mirror. “But not like this.”

There was a different kind of gravity in his voice. Not, I thought, from the weight of being a Master vampire, of caring for others and ensuring their safety, but from the weight of being
us
. Of having, for the first time in a long time, someone whose safety and happiness you put above all others. Even if that meant impressing her particularly stuffy family.

“Sometimes you make me swoon.”

“If it’s only sometimes, I’m not doing my job adequately.” He made a final silken selection, put the square into the pocket on his jacket and adjusted it, and checked himself out in the mirror. “Not bad, Sentinel.”

“Not bad indeed. I think we’re ready.”

“Shoes?” he said, glancing down at my feet.

“Ah,” I said. I looked in the closet and found several pairs awaiting me. Helen must have brought them down from the apartments. I climbed into an appropriate pair, and turned around for Ethan’s final review.

“And away we go,” I said.

Ethan looked at my shoes with an expression of abject horror. Stilettos were definitely the right choice for the dress . . . but not for February in Chicago.

That’s why I’d pulled on a pair of ugly, puce green galoshes to wear in and out of the car, and Ethan did not look impressed.

I put on an expression of pure, unmitigated innocent. “You don’t like these?”

“You aren’t serious.”

“About what? The shoes?” I glanced down, stifling a grin. “It’s February, Ethan. There’s snow on the ground.”

He watched me for a minute. “You’re kidding.”

“I was.” I held up the pair of black lace stilettos I’d been holding behind my back. “Do you prefer these?”

He looked relieved. “All that drama for a bit?”

“It was a good bit.” I did a little soft-shoe in the galoshes to punctuate the joke.

“Let’s go, Ginger Rogers,” Ethan said, pointing dictatorially toward the door. But he was grinning when he said it.

—

Dressed in our finest, we headed downstairs to the Ops Room to ensure the House was prepared and we could still make a getaway.

Luc, Lindsey, and Juliet were in residence, but the Grey House vampires hadn’t yet descended. Margot had clearly prepared for them, as a giant tray of pastries sat in the middle of the conference table. My stomach growled—a few sips of tea hadn’t done much for my hunger—but I resisted the urge to nosh, knowing I’d inevitably drip pastry cream or sugared fruit down the front of my expensive frock.

Luc whistled when she caught sight of us. “Merit, you are a sight.”

“What’s the occasion?” Lindsey asked. I guess she hadn’t yet read Luc’s reports for the night.

“We’re having dinner with my parents,” I said with a grimace.

“You are kidding,” Lindsey said.

Ethan and I took seats at the conference table. “Not a bit,” he said. “They sent a paper invitation and everything.”

“I’m surprised you’re going,” Lindsey said, her gaze narrowing suspiciously.

“Ethan thought it was a good idea.”

“So you’re blaming me for this?”

“Whenever possible,” I said with a smile. But that smile faded quickly. “Oh crap.”

“What?” Ethan asked, alarm in his expression.

“Aren’t we supposed to take something to dinner?” I asked, looking around the room. “Like a side dish or dessert or something. Don’t people usually do that when they’re, you know, adults?”

I didn’t have a lot of experience with potlucks, as my fusty parents generally relied on Pennebaker, their butler, to make most of their domestic arrangements. But I’d accompanied friends to their parents’ homes, and they always seemed to bring along cupcakes or dinner rolls or an extra bag of chips.

“Sometimes,” Lindsey said. “But I don’t think it’s required or anything.”

Maybe not, but I still imagined Robert and Charlotte arriving at my parents’ doorstep with children and hot dishes in hand, and I’d show up with a beau on my arm, a borrowed car, and a lifestyle my parents undoubtedly found questionable.

“Wine,” Ethan said. “We’ll ask Margot for a bottle of wine before we leave.”

“Good idea,” Lindsey said, snapping her fingers. “Make it a red. Humans love red wine.”

Luc looked at her askance. “Since when are you an expert on the human palate?”

“Since I
was
one,” she sarcastically said.

Ethan rolled his eyes and tapped his watch. “Since we’re down here, maybe we should discuss the protection of the House?”

“Right on,” Luc said, looking to Ethan. “We’ve polled the House. No one claims to know Robin Pope or recognize her picture, so that gives us some hope. But obviously, we’re still on high alert, considering the circumstances.”

“The riot circumstances?” Jonah asked, appearing at the doorway. “Or the GP ones?”

Jonah took in our ensembles but didn’t comment. I bet he
had
read Luc’s daily report.

“Both,” Ethan said. “Monmonth called a few minutes after dawn. He said he considers our harboring Grey House to be an act of war.”

Jonah looked stunned; I did not. I might have been a newer, greener vampire, but I had a lot more experience with GP shenanigans and egoism. Grey House hadn’t much been on the GP’s radar; we had. Often. Which was precisely why we’d left, even if our leaving hadn’t done much to eliminate the shenanigans. They’d pulled us back in.