Chicagoland Vampires - Friday Night Bites Part 33

"He's my Master. And I know what you think. You've made clear what you think." It's what everyone thinks, I silently added. "But he's my Master, my boss, my employer. Period."

Morgan shook his head, looked away. "You're naive."

I closed my eyes, put my hands on my hips, and tried counting to ten so as not to commit vampiricide here on the nice sidewalk the city of Chicago worked so hard to keep free of ash. "Do you not think I'm capable of judging for myself if I'm having a relationship with someone?"

He turned back to me again, and looked at me with eyes that pulsed, for a moment, silver at the edges.

"Frankly, Merit, no."

I missed the subtext, the fact that he'd circled back around to us, and answered with sarcasm, irony.

"What do you want me to say, since you aren't going to believe what I tell you? That I'm in love with him? That we're going to be married and start pumping out vampire children?"

"Vampires can't have children," was the only thing he said, and the flatness of his voice-and the fact that I hadn't yet considered the impact of the change on my becoming a mother-sucked the wind from my sails. Deflated, I looked at the ground, and when another peal of thunder rolled across Hyde Park, I wrapped my arms around myself.

"What are we doing, Merit?"

I blinked, looked up at him. "You were insulting me because you think I mishandled House business."

Morgan's expression didn't change, but his voice softened. "That's not what I meant." He uncrossed his arms, stuck his hands in his pockets. "I meant us. What are we doing?"

I found I couldn't answer him.

As if on cue, the rain began to fall again, began to pour in sheets, a silvery curtain that mirrored the emotional barrier between us. The rain came hard and fast, and soaked us in seconds.

I didn't have an answer for his question, and he didn't speak, so we stood there, silently together, our hair matted by water, raindrops trickling down our faces.

Drops clung to Morgan's lashes, and the shine of the water seemed to sharpen his already sculpted cheekbones. Hair plastered to his head, he looked, I thought, like an ancient warrior who'd been caught in a storm, maybe after the fall of some final enemy in battle.

Except, in this case, the last warrior standing looked . . . defeated.

Minutes pa.s.sed while we stood there in the rain, silently facing each other.

"I don't know?" I finally said, trying to give the words the cant of apology.

Morgan closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he wore an expression of grim resolution. "Do you want me?"

I swallowed, stared at him with eyes I knew were wide and remorseful, and hated myself for not being able to answer with all the conviction I knew he deserved, "My G.o.d,yes , I want you." I opened my mouth to give a pat response, then closed it again, deciding to honestly consider the question.

I wanted what most people wanted-love, companionship.

I wanted someone to touch. I wanted someone to touch me back.

I wanted someone to laugh with, someone who would laugh with me, laugh at me.

I wanted someone who looked and sawme . Not my power, not my position.

I wanted someone to say my name. To call out, "Merit," when it was time to go, or when we arrived.

Someone who wanted to say to someone else, with pride, "I'm here with her. With Merit."

I wanted all those things. Indivisibly.

But I didn't want them from Morgan. Not now. Maybe it was too soon after my conversion to vampire to try a relationship; maybe it would never be the right time for us. I didn't know the why of it, but I knew I didn't feel the kind of emotions I ought to have.

I didn't want to fail him, but I couldn't lie to him. So I answered, quietly, "I want to want you."It was as insulting a cop-out answer as I'd ever heard, and it had fallen from my own inconstant lips.

"Jesus Christ, Merit," he muttered. "Way to be equivocal." He shook his head, rain streaking down his face, and stared at the ground for what felt like an eternity. Then he lifted his gaze and blinked water from narrowed blue eyes.

"I deserve a better answer than that. Maybe you're not the one that can give it to me, but I deserve a better answer."

"Why would you want more from me? You don't even trust me."

"I could have trusted you, if you'd trusted me a little."

"You blackmailed me into dating you."

"Fine, Merit. Fine. Let's just call it what it is, right?" He gave me one last look of mild disgust, then turned away. I let him go, watched him walk down the sidewalk and through the rain until he disappeared into the mist of it.

I don't know how long I stood there in the middle of the street, rain streaming down my face, wondering what I'd done, how I'd managed to screw up the first potentially real relationship I'd had in years. But what could I do? I couldn't feign emotions I didn't feel, and I wasn't naive enough to deny the connection between me and Ethan, even if we both regretted the attraction. Ethan had kissed me, had wanted to kiss me, and I had allowed it. Whatever I felt for Morgan, however much I enjoyed his company, the pull just wasn't the same.

Regrettably.

The rain slowed, then dissipated, mist clouding the neighborhood. I pushed the wet hair from my eyes and was preparing to turn back for the House when I heard it.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The sound of heels on concrete.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT.

I turned quickly, but didn't need to change position to know what was coming.Who was coming. The goose b.u.mps on my arms, the uncomfortable p.r.i.c.kle at the back of my neck, were warning enough.

The scene played out like a Bogart film. She looked as glamorous as I'd ever seen her, lithe body tucked into a pair of black wide-legged pants and a black cap-sleeved top, her wavy black hair in soft curls across her shoulders. But while she might have channeled Katharine Hepburn aesthetically, I knew who she really was, the nihilistic core of her.

She strode toward me with feline grace, heels clicking on the wet asphalt, gleaming in the light of the overhead streetlamps.

I swallowed, fear and adrenaline tripping my heart into a quick, staccato beat, and gripped the scabbard at my side.

"I could have you before you unsheathed it," she warned.

I forced myself to keep my chin up, my body flexed and ready in case she moved. It took every ounce of strength I had not to recoil, not to take a step backward, not to run away. I couldn't have been less confident, there in the dark, the Cadogan gate a block away. So I bluffed.

"Maybe," I said, giving her a small smile. "Maybe not. What do you want?"

She tilted her head at me, tucking one hand around her side, one hip c.o.c.ked. She had the look of a supermodel feigning confusion, or a mildly intrigued vampire. It was pretty much the same expression.

"You haven't quite figured it out yet, have you?"I arched a brow at her, and she chuckled in response, the sound low and throaty. "I don't think I'll tell you. I think I'll let you figure it out. But I'll enjoy it when the time comes." She suddenly snapped to attention, hands at her hips, chin thrust forward. A look of control and defiance. "And the time will come."

Celina did love to talk, to wax prophetic. Maybe she'd give me something I could use, something that would hint at her larger plans, something I could pa.s.s along to Ethan and Luc, so I asked the follow-up.

"The time? For what?"

"You took Navarre from me. All of it, all of them, from me. Certainly, there are benefits-to take a House from a Master, a Presidium member, it's hardly done. That gained me no little bit of sympathy. So thank you, pet, for that. Nevertheless, Navarre was mine, bricks and mortar, blood and bone. You take from me, I take from you."

"Is that why you set Peter up?" I asked. "Because you're p.i.s.sed that your plan to take over the Chicago Houses didn't quite pan out? You figured starting a world war between shifters and vampires was the next best thing?"

She smiled coyly. "Oh, I do like you, Merit. I like your . . . moxie. But the war wouldn't just be between shifters and vampires, would it? It was Cadogan House that threatened the Breckenridge boy. The war would be between Nicholas and Ethan. Between the old lover and the new, yes?"

I nearly growled at her.

"At any rate," she said, "two of Chicago's Houses would remain uninvolved. Untainted by the scandal.

Grey House. Navarre House."

Celina reached up and fingered a thin gold chain around her neck. Moonlight glinted off the disk of gold that hung from it.

My stomach tightened.

It was a House medal. A shiny new pendant to replace the one taken from her by the GP.

"Where'd you get the medal, Celina?"

She smiled evilly and rubbed the medal like she expected a genie to pop out.

"Let's not be naive, Merit. Where do you think I got it? Or perhaps I should ask, from whom?"

I suddenly had a little less sympathy for Navarre's new Master.

Celina may have kept her sway over his House, but I'd be d.a.m.ned if she poisoned mine. "You've made your play, Celina, twice now, and you lost. Learn your lesson-stay away from Cadogan House."

"Just the House, Merit? Or its Master as well?"

I felt the blush rise along my cheekbones.

She blinked at me, and her eyes-and smile-grew wide. She laughed with obvious delight. "Oh, I had no idea my luck would be that good. Are you sleeping with him, or just l.u.s.ting after him? And let's not feign misunderstanding, Sentinel. I meant the one you want, not the one you have." She looked up, her expression thoughtful. "Or maybe the one you lost, if I learned anything from that last little scene."

"You're hallucinating," I said, but my stomach knotted. She'd been there, had watched Morgan and me fight. Had he set this up? Had he asked to talk to me outside in order to get me out here where she could find me?

Celina looked me over, head to toe, an appraisal. She'd kept her glamour in check, but I felt the slinky tendrils of it branching out, testing. "You're not his type, I hear. Ethan does prefer blondes." She c.o.c.ked her head to the side. "Or redheads, I suppose. But I guess you know all about that. I hear you were a firsthand witness to his . . . prowess?" She looked at me thoughtfully, apparently expecting an honest appraisal.

She was right-I had been a witness to his "prowess," having inadvertently walked in while Ethan was servicing Amber. But I wasn't about to share that information with her. "I couldn't care less who or what he prefers."

"Mmm-hmm. Does that self-righteous anger keep you warm at night?"

I knew she was baiting me. Of course she was baiting me. Unfortunately, she'd picked the right bait, the conversation I was sick of having, the accusations I was sick of defending against. I could feel my blood begin to warm, the vampire I'd so carefully, cautiously, forced down peeking through, wondering at theworry, the adrenaline that woke her from sleep. My breathing quickened, and I knew my eyes had silvered. My fangs descended, and I let them.

I wouldn't fight her; I wasn't stupid. But Catcher had taught me about the benefits of bluffing. a.s.suming I could keep my vampire in check, I owed it to the impotent Presidium to see what happened when I played Celina's game.

I took a step forward, a step toward her, and ran the tip of my tongue across the tip of a needle-pointed canine. Vampire aggressive behavior. "Do you want to play, Celina? Do you want to know how strong I am? Do you want to see?"

She stared at me, magic flowing full force now, and I watched her eyes silver, like flipped coins catching the light. She took a step toward me, still eighteen or twenty feet between us.

"You're hardly worth his time, Sentinel. Why would you be worth mine?"

I took another step forward. "You came here, Celina. To find me."

"You'll never be as good as me."

There it was. The crack in the beguiling facade. Celina, beautiful and powerful and self-absorbed to a fault, was insecure.

I repeated the mantra. "You came here, Celina. To find me."

She stilled, glared at me beneath half-lidded eyes, shadows and moonlight sharpening the angles of her face. She took a breath, seemed to calm herself, and smiled. And then she fought back.

"I know who you are, Merit. I know about your family." She stepped forward. "I know about your sister."

I flinched, the words as effective as a slap across the face.

Another step, and this time she grinned. She knew she'd landed a blow.

"Yes," she said. "Best of all"-I could see the whites of her eyes and as if the cant of the words wasn't threat enough, the hatred in her gaze-"I know about that night on campus."

"Because you planned it," I reminded her, my breath coming faster, my heart beginning to thud again.

"Mmm-hmm," she said, tapping a red-manicured finger against her chest. "I had plans for you, I'll admit.

But I wasn't the only one with plans."

My heart sped at the insinuation. "Who else had plans?"

"You know, I forget. But it's a pity you've had Peter extradited. He has so many interesting connections around town, don't you think?"

It was trickery, I reminded myself. She was behind it. She'd planned my attack, my death, to wreak havoc in the city.She'd planned it. But she wasn't the only one with knowledge, I reminded myself.