Chicagoland Vampires: Wild Things Part 2

"Mine," he growled, as pleasure bloomed across my body like a living thing, as cold as ice and as hot as fire, emptying my mind and soul of anything but Ethan. His mind, his soul, his body, and the word he murmured over and over again.

"Mine," he said, each word a promise, a declaration, a thrust. "Mine," he said through gritted teeth, pa.s.sion riding him as it had me.

"Mine," he said, kissing me with such ferocity I tasted blood, the magic rising between us as he thrust fiercely and groaned like an animal as pleasure swamped him.

"Mine," he said, softly now, and pulled my body into his. The sun rose, and there in the darkness of a borrowed room, we slept.

We awoke to riotous noise-pounding on the front door that had both of us shooting upright. The sun had only just dipped below the horizon again, but not quite far enough along to pull us from sleep.

"What in G.o.d's name?" Ethan asked, his voice still slumber slurred, his hair more surfer than moderately pretentious Master vampire.

The pounding sounded again. Someone was in a hurry.

Ethan moved to climb off the bed, but I stopped him with a hand. "Get dressed. I'll see who's there first. Luc will kick my a.s.s if I let yours get kicked." I had a bad feeling this was going to be one of those nights on which I really, really wished I could sleep in and defer being an adult for a few more hours.

I pulled on Ethan's shirt from the night before and b.u.t.toned it up. It wouldn't do as protective armor, but there weren't enemies at the door, at least not of the CPD variety. I'd tempered my own katana with blood and magic, which left me sensitive to the presence of steel and guns. I didn't sense any outside.

Now draped in tailored and expensive menswear-only the best for our Master-I trundled back into the living room. Ethan's katana was propped beside the door; I'd taken mine to bed, just in case. I picked it up and took a cautionary peek through the peephole . . . and found a shifter on our stoop.

"Open up, Kitten. I know you're there."

I opened the door; a cold breeze lifted goose b.u.mps on my bare legs.

He stood in the doorway, six feet and some-odd inches, all muscle and wolfish energy. His hair was tawny and gold tipped, and it reached his shoulders in s.h.a.ggy waves. His eyes were amber colored and, at the moment, swirled with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Kitten," said Gabriel Keene, the Apex of the North American Pack. He gave me an up-and-down perusal. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Sleeping," I managed, crossing my arms over my chest. "We were sleeping."

Ethan stepped behind me, chest bare, b.u.t.toning jeans. "I'm fairly certain you know precisely what you were interrupting."

Gabe smiled broadly, revealing straight, white teeth. "Doesn't matter now, since you're both awake. Get your a.s.ses dressed. We've got business to attend to."

Ethan arched an eyebrow, his favorite move. "What business? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the Pack, just as you are."

Ethan grunted. "We're here because Papa Breck made us pay for the privilege."

I slid Ethan a glance. He hadn't mentioned a payment to the Brecks. And that information would have been good to know before we put our fate-before I put his fate-in their hands.

"He made you pay," Gabriel said, "but not for the privilege you think. That money was an admission fee."

"For what?" Ethan asked.

"For the Greatest Show on Earth," Gabriel said with a smile that could only be described as wolfish. "It's the first night of Lupercalia."

"What's Lupercalia?" I asked, in spite of myself. I should have been ducking back inside, but I found the name-and Gabe's appearance at our door-intriguing.

"Our annual NAC festival," Gabe said, "and has been since Rome's founding. Three nights in late winter to call spring to rise, to celebrate our animals, our connections to the woods, to the world."

That explains Michael's animus, Ethan silently said. He wouldn't want us here for that.

Part of it, maybe. But I'd bet Michael hadn't cared for vampires before we'd arrived, and wouldn't like us any more when the festival was over.

"Tonight," Gabe said, "you're our guests. Among others." He stepped aside, revealing two sorcerers and a shifter behind him. The sorcerers were my best friend, Mallory Carmichael, and Catcher, her boyfriend. Mallory had been disgraced by bad deeds, but Gabe had adopted her for rehabilitation.

Mallory and Catcher were bundled against the cold in jeans and boots. Hers were fawn colored and knee high over skinny jeans. Her blue hair, darker at the tips, lay straight on her shoulders.

Catcher stood beside her, wearing his typically dour expression. His hair was shaved, his eyes sparkling green, his mouth lush. He was partial to snarky T-shirts, but I couldn't tell if he wore one beneath his coat.

Jeff was the final member of the trio, my grandfather's employee and favorite white-hat hacker. Granted, he was the only computer hacker I actually knew in person, but I'm pretty sure he'd have been my favorite anyway. Tonight he'd traded in his usual uniform-khakis and a b.u.t.ton-down shirt-for jeans, boots, and a rugged outdoor jacket. His light brown hair was tucked behind his ears, and he wore his usual smile-friendly, with touches of bashful and goofball.

"Sullivan," Catcher said with a bob of the head, then answered Ethan's unspoken question. "We're here for Lupercalia."

"I'm here to partic.i.p.ate," Jeff said, a blush in his cheeks as he dutifully managed not to stare at my legs.

It was great to see them, but if they were here, my grandfather was down two guardians.

They must have seen the worry in my eyes. "Your mother and father limited your grandfather's visitors today," Catcher said. "They want him to rest. So we're out of a job there."

Jeff wiggled his phone. "Although we did manage to sneak in a panic b.u.t.ton, just in case. He can reach us immediately if there's any problem."

"Good idea," I said with a smile, relieved that they'd thought of it.

Of course, I was still standing half naked in the doorway of a shifter's carriage house, my hair undoubtedly ruffled by sleep and s.e.x. Throw in a college math cla.s.s I'd somehow forgotten to attend, and I was revisiting my recurring nightmare.

"And what are you doing here?" I asked Mallory, smoothing a hand down the front of Ethan's shirt to ensure no important parts were leaked to the public.

"I'm here to practice," Mallory said.

Part of Mal's rehab was figuring out how she could use magic productively. A little more Luke, a little less Anakin. She'd made progress during our anti-McKetrick brigade, and it looked like the Pack was giving her another opportunity to try.

"She's expanding her understanding of magic," Gabriel added. "What it is, what it isn't, what it can be."

Mallory smiled prettily and held up two bottles of Blood4You, the bottled blood that most vampires drank for convenience, and a bag from Dirigible Donuts, one of my favorite Chicago foodstuffs. (To be fair, it was a long and distinguished list.) "I have a consolation prize for your humiliation." She gave me an up-and-down look. "I'd say two to three raspberry-filled donuts should do it."

I stood there for a moment, cheeks flushed in embarra.s.sment, toes freezing from exposure to the cold, my friends confident I'd be mollified with nothing more than a bag of jelly donuts.

"Just give me the d.a.m.n thing," I said, bowing to their expectations and s.n.a.t.c.hing breakfast. But I gave them all a deadly look before stalking back to the bedroom.

"And now that we've satisfied your bodyguard," Gabe said to Ethan behind me, "we'll just come in and make ourselves comfortable."

As it turned out, raspberry-filled donuts were an exceptional way to soothe humiliation.

I'd emptied a bottle of blood and devoured two of the donuts before Ethan came back inside, a bundle of red fabric in hand.

"I don't suppose you saved one of those for me?" he asked.

"I better have," I said. "She bought a dozen."

"I stand by what I said."

"You won't get any with that att.i.tude. What's that?" I asked, gesturing toward the fabric.

"Apparently someone in the Pack decided they wanted swag," Ethan said, unrolling two T-shirts, cardinal red with what looked like a retro ad for a bar called Lupercalia, the name in old-fashioned letters above two wolves toasting with beer steins at a pub table.

"They actually made T-shirts," I said. "Gabriel okayed that? It seems very . . . public." The public knew shape-shifters existed, but the Packs still tended to keep to themselves.

"I'd guess this was a do-it-and-apologize-after-the-fact scenario," Ethan said. "These are for us to wear. Gifts from the Pack."

"Chilly for February."

"I'm sure they'll allow you to layer, Sentinel." He held out a hand for the bag of donuts, but I didn't budge.

"Were you going to tell me we had to pay the Brecks?"

His gaze flattened. "I'm perfectly capable of managing the House's financial affairs, Sentinel."

"I didn't suggest you weren't. But I also don't like being blindsided."

"It was a business transaction."

"It was protection money," I insisted, and from the flash in his eyes, he knew it, too.

"And I don't care to advertise that fact, Sentinel. But I'd have told you."

He must have seen the doubt in my eyes, because he stepped forward. "I'd have told you," he said again. "When we had a moment to discuss it. As you'll recall"-he tugged gently at the first b.u.t.ton on the shirt I wore-"you were very distracting last night."

Ethan was still shirtless, and he stood at the edge of the bed, washboard abs and a trail of blond fuzz peeking above his jeans' top b.u.t.ton. Heat rushed me as he moved in for a kiss, and my eyes drifted shut.

But he sidestepped me, grabbed the bag, and pulled out a donut.

"Distracting?" I asked him, offering a dubious look.

"All's fair in love and pastry," he said, swiping a drop of raspberry jam from the edge of his mouth. The urge to lick it away nearly silvered my eyes.

He rolled down the top of the bag and placed it on a side table, then pulled on his Lupercalia T-shirt. The flat plane of his abdomen rippled as he moved, and I didn't even bother to pretend not to look.

When he was done dressing, he c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just enjoying the show."

He snorted, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the second T-shirt, and swatted me with it. "Go get dressed, or Catcher, Jeff, Mallory, and Gabe are going to suspect more than dressing is going on in here. Again." He put his hands on the bed on each side of my body and leaned in. "And although I have definitive plans for you, Sentinel, they do not involve the lascivious imaginations of the sorcerers and shifters presently outside that door."

He touched his mouth to mine-soft and promising, his lips berry sweet.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed in my Lupercalia T-shirt, a long-sleeved T-shirt beneath it for warmth. I wore two pair of socks against the cold, boots, and jeans, and put my long, dark hair into a high ponytail. I pulled on my leather jacket, a gift from Ethan to replace the one torched in the fire that injured my grandfather, and tucked a small and sleek dagger into my boot. The Pack wasn't likely to appreciate my bringing a katana to a shifter festival, so I'd have to rely on the dagger if anything went amiss. And since I was heading out with a refugee vampire, two rogue sorcerers, and a family of shifters who hated vampires, I presumed "amiss" was pretty likely.

I was dressed and ready for action. But before I turned my attention to the Pack, I had one final bit of business. I'd missed checking in on my grandfather yesterday, so I dialed the hospital and requested his room.

"This is Chuck," he answered.

I smiled just from the sound of his voice. "Hey, Grandpa."

"Baby girl! It's good to hear your voice. I understand you're in a bit of a pinch."

Relief swamped me. I hadn't realized how much I'd wanted to talk to him-or how much guilt had settled in when I hadn't been able to make it happen.

"A misunderstanding. I'm sure Mayor Kowalcyzk will come around eventually." And if she didn't, hopefully Malik could convince the governor to intervene. "How are you feeling?"

"Broken. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"I don't believe that," I cheerily said, but I had to push back the memory of my grandfather huddled beneath debris. I made sure my voice was steady before I spoke again. "I'm sorry I can't be there."

"You know, I always thought you'd be a teacher. You love books and knowledge. Always did. And then your life changed, and you became part of something bigger. That's your job, Merit. That something bigger. And it's okay that you have to do it."

"I love you, Grandpa."

"I love you, baby girl."

There was mumbling in the background. "It's time for what they generously refer to as 'dinner' around here," he said after a moment. "Call me when you've got things in hand. Because I know you'll get there eventually."

I found the crew in the living room, chatting collegially.

"Merit," Catcher said, sitting beside Mallory on the couch, an arm around her shoulders. Their relationship had hit the rocks when Mallory turned to the dark side, so the casual affection was a pleasant development. "It's nice to see you clothed again."

"And now that she is," Gabriel said, standing, "we should get moving."

"Where are we going, exactly?" Catcher asked.

"To a land beyond s.p.a.ce and time," Jeff said drawing an arc in the air. "Where the rules of mortals have no meaning."

Gabriel looked up at the ceiling as if he might find patience there. "We're going to the Brecks' backyard. Into the woods, right here in Illinois, where most of us are quite mortal."

"Illi-noise," Jeff said with cheeky enthusiasm. "Because the wolves will howl."

Gabriel shook his head but clapped Jeff on the back good-naturedly. "Settle yourself, whelp. We haven't even gotten started yet."

I had a sense they weren't going to settle themselves anytime soon. And since I was playing bodyguard, I took it upon myself to act like one. If we'd be staying on the Brecks' property, we'd be as safe (as we'd ever been) from Mayor Kowalcyzk's troops. But that didn't necessarily mean we'd be safe around the Pack. Not if they shared the Brecks' att.i.tude.