Chicagoland Vampires - Friday Night Bites Part 28

I gathered up the next book in my stack, my eyes scanning the Dewey Decimal numbers on the shelves to locate its home.

In other words, I was trying very, very hard not to think about the sound of footsteps behind me, or the fact that they were moving closer.

Interesting that I hadn't yet moved out of his path.

"My point, Sentinel, is that you are more than a woman who hides in a library."

"Hmm," I nonchalantly said, sliding the final book into its home. I knew what was coming. I could hear it in his voice-the low, thick hum of it. I didn't know why he was trying, given his apparently conflicted feelings about me, but this was the prelude to seduction.

Footsteps, and then he was next to me, his body behind mine, his lips at the spot of skin just below my ear. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my neck. The smell of him-clean, soapy, almost discomfortingly familiar. As much as the want of it disturbed me, I wanted to sink back against him, let him envelop me.

Part of that, I knew, was vampire genetics, the fact that he'd changed me, some kind of evolutionary connection between Master and vampire.

But part of it was much, much simpler.

"Merit."

Part of it was boy and girl.

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

"Don't deny it. I want this. You want this."

He said the words, but the cant of them was wrong. Irritated. Not words of desire, but an accusation. As if we'd fought the attraction and hadn't been strong enough to resist it, and we were worse off for it.

But if Ethan fought it, he didn't resist. He leaned in, a hand at my waist, his body behind mine, and grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin of my neck. The breath shuddered out of me, my eyes rolling back, the vampire inside me thrilled by the innate dominance of the act. I tried to fight my way to the surface of therising l.u.s.t, and made the mistake of turning around, facing him. I'd been intent on giving him what-for, on sending him away, but he took full advantage of my shift in position.

Ethan pressed closer, one hand on each side of me, fingers gripping the shelves, framing my body with his, and stared down at me, eyes as green as cut emeralds. He raised a hand to my face, stroked my lip with his thumb. His eyes became quicksilver, a sure sign of his hunger. Of his arousal.

"Ethan," I said, a hesitation, but he shook his head, gaze dropping to my lips, then drifting shut. He leaned closer, his lips just touching mine. Teasing, hinting, but not quite kissing. My lids fell, and his hands were at my cheeks, fingers at my jaw, his breath staccato and rushed as his lips traced a trail, pressed kisses, against my closed eyes, my cheeks, everywhere but my lips.

"You are so much more than that."

It was the words that did me in, that sealed my fate. My core went liquid, body humming, limbs languid as he worked to arouse me, to incite me.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him as he pulled back, his eyes wide and intense and insanely green.

He was so beautiful, his eyes on me, the desire clear, golden hair around his face, ridiculous cheekbones, mouth that would tempt a saint.

"Merit," he roughly said, then leaned his forehead against mine, asking for my consent, my permission.

I wasn't a saint.

My eyes wide, decision made and the repercussions be d.a.m.ned, I nodded.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

CRYING WOLF.

His first move was the deadliest, a smile of boyish pleasure that transformed into the s.e.xiest, most congratulatory grin I'd ever seen. It was a look of sheer predatory satisfaction, the look of a hunter who'd planned, schemed, and won his prize, who had the prey in his grasp.

How apropos, I thought.

"Be still," he whispered, then leaned in again, lids falling as he angled his head. I thought he'd kiss me, but this was just to tease, a prelude to whatever slate of activity he had in mind. He pressed a kiss to my jawline, then my chin, then nipped at my bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth.

When he released me, he stared at me again, rubbed his thumb across my cheekbone. He studied me, looked at me. This time, when his lashes fell, he kissed me fully, dipping his tongue into the cavern of my mouth.

He fisted his hands in the hair at the nape of my neck, teasing my tongue with his, willing me to engage, to fight back, to do anything but simply acquiesce.

I fisted my hands in the lapels of his coat, pulling him toward me, bringing the warmth of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, closer.

There was a moment of consideration before I decided I wasn't appalled enough by my actions to let him go.

Ethan.

It wasn't even a whisper, just the mental calling of his name, but he groaned triumphantly, sucked my tongue into his mouth, and tortured it with friction and the heat of his mouth.

I kissed him, let him kiss me, let him clutch my hips, curl his fingers into the fabric of my shirt, slide his hands around my waist and splay them against my back, pull me infinitesimally closer. He made a sound, a growl or purr, some predatory noise that rumbled in his throat, then said my name. And this time, it wasn't a question but a sound of victory, a claim on his prize.

He pressed in closer, fingers splayed and moving slowly upward. As he pressed against me, I felt the rise of his erection, the solidity of it against my stomach.

I cupped his face in my hands as we kissed in long, sensuous pulls and teasing bites, the thick golden silk of his hair falling around my fingers.Until the knock at the library door.

Ethan shot away, one hand on his hip, one at his mouth, wiping away the evidence.

"Yes?" His voice was loud, a cannon shot in the otherwise empty room.

I brushed the back of my hand across my mouth.

The door opened, a body silhouetted in the doorway, and then Malik stepped inside. "They're here," he said, eyes on me, some shred of unspoken compa.s.sion there, then looked at Ethan. "Front parlor."

Ethan nodded. "Put them in my office. We'll be there in a moment." Without even so much as a second glance, Malik nodded and walked out again, the door closing with a heavy, slowthush .

I moved back to the table and kept my gaze on the notebooks and texts I began to gather up. My heart raced, the guilt I'd thrown back at Morgan now flooding my chest.

What had I done? What had I,we , been about to do?

"Merit."

"Don't." I finished stacking the notebooks, picked them up, grabbed my scabbarded katana, and held them to my chest like a shield. "Don't. That shouldn't have happened."

Ethan didn't respond until I began to move toward the door. He stopped me with a firm hand at my elbow. Even then, a single arched eyebrow was the only question I got.

"You gave me to him."

His eyes widened, instantaneously. He was surprised, then, that it mattered, that it mattered that Ethan had wanted me, for whatever his reasons, in spite of his doubts, and had still given me away. To Morgan.

Who was waiting one floor below us.

I pulled my arm away and walked to the door. When I reached it, I stopped, turned, and looked back, seeing that stunned expression still on his face. "You made the decision," I told him. "You get to live with it."

After a moment of obvious shock, he shook his head. "We have visitors." His tone was steely. "Let's go."

Scabbard and paper in hand, I followed him out.

They were in the office when we arrived downstairs-Morgan, Scott Grey, and Noah Beck, all in chairs around Ethan's conference table. I hadn't seen Scott or Noah since the night I'd protected Ethan against a would-be sucker punch thrown by my future ex-boyfriend, one night before Celina attempted to kill Ethan. It seemed appropriate that we were meeting again under equally dramatic circ.u.mstances.

Scott was tall with dark brown hair, dressed in jeans and a Cubs T-shirt. He was a sports fan, so sportswear usually made up the uniform of Grey House, such as it was. Instead of the medals vampires from Navarre and Cadogan wore, Grey House vamps had jerseys.

Noah wore black cargo pants and a black thermal shirt, the only clothes I'd ever seen him in. Noah was shorter than Scott, which didn't say much given that Scott probably reached six foot four, but Noah was broader-shouldered. Noah clearly spent a lot of time in the weight room. And where Scott had a kind of frat-boy attractiveness, now sporting a little soul patch below his bottom lip, Noah was ruggedly handsome. His look was equally vampire rugged-brown hair around big blue eyes, sensuous lips, a few days' worth of stubble along his strong jaw.

Morgan was still in his jeans and T-shirt. He'd also kept the flat, p.i.s.sed-off stare, which he leveled at me as soon I walked into the room.

I blushed, guilt riding high and warm on my cheekbones. Guilt, and a little fear. I'd done the very thing he'd dreaded. I'd given in to the temptation he'd predicted. Feared. And I'd bet money that I still carried the lingering scent of Ethan's cologne.

Luc and Malik stood point at either end of the table, both in Cadogan black. Ethan strode toward the table and took the seat at the head of it, Luc standing behind him.

I moved to the other end of the table, offering nods to Noah and Scott along the way. When Malik took his seat, I stood behind him.

"Gentlemen," Ethan said, "as I briefly mentioned earlier, we have a problem. We need a solution. And we need it quickly."He laid out Nick's threat, the twenty-four-hour demand, and the research being conducted by Jeff. And then he got personal.

"We've been able to get this much information," he said, "because Merit agreed to return to her father's house, to revisit her family's circle of acquaintances on our behalf." He said the words to the group, but his gaze was on Morgan.

I closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted by Ethan Sullivan.

It was exoneration. He was trying, even after what had just transpired in the library, to give me an excuse to take to Morgan. To explain to Morgan that what seemed like impropriety-my appearing on Ethan's arm at a social function-was actually a duty he'd required of me, and a completely platonic one.

Arguably, it was a thoughtful thing to do-an attempt to mend the tear he'd rent by requiring me to accompany him to my father's.

On the other hand, it reeked of cowardice. He wanted me, that much was obvious, and this wasn't the first time he'd demonstrated it. But he kept pa.s.sing me back to Morgan. He kept putting the effort into keeping Morgan and me together. That hinted at an abyss of emotional issues I knew I shouldn't dare to explore.

But I'd kissed him. I'd seen the look in his eyes-the desire, the triumph-of having accomplished me.

Maybe Linds was right, that there was more beneath the surface of cool, calm, collected vampire. But what a risk . . .

I'd drifted into my thoughts, so when the sound of my name jolted me from them, I realized I was halfway to lifting fingers to my lips, touching the place where we'd connected. Covering, I tapped a finger against my chin, hoping it looked intellectual.

"Yes?" I asked Ethan, found all eyes on me. Morgan, in particular, looked to have lost a little fire, although he still looked suspicious.

"Do you have anything to add to my retelling?" Ethan asked. "Perhaps about the threat contained in the e-mail?"

I bobbed my head dutifully. "It's gory," I said. "Methods are mentioned, some new, some old school.

But I didn't read anything in the e-mail that suggested a particular person, or vampire, was the would-be perpetrator."

Ethan surveyed the vampire heads of state. "Were any of you successful in discovering anything about this threat?"

Heads were shaken around the table.

"Black hole," Noah said. "I got nada."

"Ditto," Scott said.

Morgan leaned forward. "So what do we do now? It's two hours until dawn, and we'd only have, what, a handful of hours tomorrow night. That's not time for a full investigation, if we even knew who to start with."

"The e-mail may give us some direction yet tonight," Ethan reminded them. "We're waiting for the conclusion of that part of the investigation. At any rate, we need to reach some agreement before we separate. The first step, I think, is addressing the threat to the extent that we can. Both Merit and I have given the Breckenridges a.s.surances that the threat does not derive from Cadogan House. Can you at least make the same promise?"

"The threat doesn't come from Grey," Scott flatly said. "As you know, not our style."

"It's not our style, either," Morgan said, his voice a little huffy. "Navarre vampires don't threaten humans."

Anymore, I thought, Ethan and I sharing a knowing glance.

"You know I can't make that kind of promise," Noah said. "I don't have that kind of authority on behalf of independent vampires. I'm just a delegate for informational purposes. That said, I don't know square one about the Breckenridge family, and I certainly haven't heard anything in the pipes. If vamps outside the Houses are involved in this, I'm not aware of it."

"Which is exactly why we have Houses," Morgan muttered, sitting back in his chair. "To prevent situations like this." He linked his hands behind his head, slid Ethan a glance. "So you've gottena.s.surances from Chicago's big three. You think that's gonna calm these people down?"

"Doubtful," Ethan said. "They're going to want specific information as to the threat, as to who made the phone call, as to who sent the e-mail."

"So if we don't figure it out, we're f.u.c.ked," Morgan concluded. "He'll publish this story, and we're f.u.c.ked. They'll restart the hearings, pa.s.s whatever s.h.i.t legislation they've been considering, and lock us inside our Houses for the duration of the night."

"One step at a time," Ethan calmly said. "There's no need to jump to conclusions."

"Oh, don't pull that 'I'm the expert' Master bulls.h.i.t on me, Sullivan. I'm not as old as you, but I'm not a newbie, either."

"Greer," Scott warned. Scott, I'd learned from my research, was a relatively new Master. But he still had more pull, more experience, than Morgan, and the tone of his voice was an obvious reminder of that fact.

It was the first time I'd heard Scott pull rank, and that made it much more effective.

Morgan bit back whatever retort he had planned and sat back in his chair, eyes narrow, gaze on the table in front of him. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wasn't handling transitions well. Mine, from human to vampire. His, from Second to Master.

"We can offer a.s.surances as to the Houses," Ethan said, recapping the deal we'd reached so far. "What else?"

"Actually," Scott said, "I've got a question." He glanced at Morgan. "While I mean no disrespect to you, we've got a new slate of raves, threats against us, someone spreading some nasty information about how manipulative we are. It's leading to this-our getting irritated with each other. What are the odds on Celina's involvement?"

Morgan's jaw clenched.

Ethan and I shared a glance. "I don't believe we have hard facts either way," he said, apparently deciding not to raise the circ.u.mstantial evidence we'd discovered in the library. "Although she has demonstrated that she's not above spreading discord among the Houses."

"And how much of that discord is personal, Sullivan?" Morgan sat forward, turned his head to Ethan.

"Can you really be neutral about Celina?"