Chicagoland Vampires - Some Girls Bite Part 32

While his end might have been laudable-protecting his House, protecting his vampires-he was willing to sacrifice me to meet those goals. I'd just been sent to the sacrificial altar, given to the man who only moments ago, and quite literally, wielded the ceremonial dagger.

I'd imagined myself safe from Ethan's machinations because I'd thought, naively, that he cared for me, if not as a friend, then because I was a Cadogan vampire.

I squeezed back tears of frustration. d.a.m.n it, I was supposed to be one of his vampires, to protect, to s.h.i.+eld. Not to offer up.

But there was something worse beneath that sense of House betrayal, some undefined emotion that made my stomach ache. I didn't want to pick at it, examine it, consider why tears p.r.i.c.ked at the corners of my eyes, why his pa.s.sing me along to another vampire hurt so much.

Not because he'd given me to Morgan.

But because he hadn't wanted to keep me to himself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, lambasted my own stupidity, wondered how in G.o.d's name I'd managed to form an attachment to a man so obviously determined to push me away. It wasn't about love, maybe not even about affection, but rather some bone-deep sense that our lives were bound together in some important way. That there was-and would be-something more between us than the awkwardness of unfulfilled s.e.xual attraction.

It would be so easy, so handy, to blame it on the vampire inside, to attribute the connection to the fact that he'd made me, turned me, that I was his to command, that he was mine to serve. But this wasn't about magic or genetics.

This was about a boy, and a girl . . .

Gently, quietly, Morgan cleared his throat.

... and the other boy still on his knees before me.

I opened my eyes, recalling that I was still standing in the middle of a room of antic.i.p.atory vampires, all waiting for me to act on Morgan's proposal. So I pushed down the pain of the betrayal Ethan likely didn't known he was committing, and did my job.

I lowered my sword, smiled softly at Morgan, and took his hand. I let my voice go flat-no sense in pretending I was thrilled to play political go-between-and offered, "Morgan, Second of Navarre, I accept your claim on behalf of Cadogan House, on behalf of my Master, on behalf of myself."

The applause was hesitant at first, but soon thundered through the ballroom. Morgan rose and pressed my hand to his lips, then squeezed it. He smiled quirkily. "Is it so bad?"

I lifted my brows, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a perky answer. "To be a p.a.w.n?"

Shaking his head, he took a step forward, bent his lips to my ear. "Whatever the political ramifications, I've told you before-I want you." When he pulled back, his eyes twinkled with an amus.e.m.e.nt I appreciated, but didn't share. "Especially now that I've seen the wardrobe change. Kudos to your stylist. When can I see you again?"

I met his eyes, was slightly mollified to see that he was sincere, and slid a glance over my shoulder to the blond who stood behind me. Ethan met my gaze, but his thoughts were unfathomable, typically blank, a tiny crease between his eyebrows the only indication that he'd witnessed anything consequential in the last few minutes.

Without thought to the consequences, I let my eyes fill with the array of emotions he'd forced me to sort through. I let all of it show-anger, betrayal, hurt, and the one I knew I'd regret most of all, the frazzle-edged bit of attachment. And then, with Morgan waiting in front of me, I waited to see what, if anything, Ethan would give back.

For a long moment, he just stared at me, need laid bare in his expression.

But then his mouth tightened, and slowly, excruciatingly, he looked away.

I stiffened, turned around again, and offered Morgan a bright smile that I hoped didn't look as forced as it was.

"Call me," I dutifully said.

It took minutes for Ethan to calm down the crowd again. Once he had their attention, I moved back to the edge of the crowd, close enough to defend if necessary, but outside the inner circle. I'd had my fill of attention for the night.

"Now that we've enjoyed that . . . romantic interlude," Ethan said with a smile, capitalizing on the lighter mood, "we should return to the matter of the girls."

Static buzzed in my ear, and Luc's voice echoed through the earpiece. "Thanks for the distraction, Sentinel," he whispered. "That was d.a.m.n entertaining. But everyone keep eyes and ears open-we may have defused tension, but we still have a s.h.i.+t storm to deal with."

I bobbed my head in acknowledgment.

"That 'matter' has gotten more complicated," Noah said, arms still folded across his chest. "Navarre House has apparently been infiltrated."

"So it would appear," Ethan agreed, nodding. "We are dealing with a killer, or killers, who have access to multiple Houses, perhaps a vendetta against them."

"But they've also got a vendetta against the Rogues," Noah said. "Let's not forget that every time a House denies involvement, they implicitly accuse us."

"Implicit or not, it's hard to accuse a group no one knows about," Scott grunted, joining the conversation. "The public only knows about us-that means the s.h.i.+t falls on us."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have stepped forward," muttered a Rogue who stood beside Noah.

"Not my choice," Scott pointed out.

"Nor mine," Ethan said. "But it's too late to do anything about that now. The only thing we can do now is cooperate. With the CPD, the administration, the investigations. Cooperation is the only thing that will insulate us from the public relations fallout, at least until the perpetrator of these crimes has been identified."

"And our existence?" Noah quietly asked.

The room fell silent as the Masters, Ethan and Scott, likely weighed their options.

"Until we figure out who's doing the damage," Scott finally said, "there's no point embroiling other vamps." He shrugged, glanced at Ethan. "That's my take."

Ethan nodded. "I would agree."

"Then we wait," Noah p.r.o.nounced, propping hands on his hips. "And if someone has information about which vampire or vampires are responsible for this cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.k, I suggest they come forward. We had no intention of entering the public eye, and we won't do it now. If the Houses fall, we will not step forward. We will disperse into the human world as we have before." He glanced between Ethan and Scott, then settled his gaze on Morgan. "Clean up your Houses," he said.

With that p.r.o.nouncement, Noah turned and began walking through the crowd, which opened to accommodate him and the Rogues who followed.

"And we're adjourned," Ethan muttered.

Not privy to the private meeting between Ethan, Scott, and Morgan that followed the Rogues' departure, I went home, ignored the worried glances I received on the way in, headed straight for my bedroom, and shut the door behind me. The belted sword was placed on an armchair, and I grabbed my iPod, slipped in the ear buds, lay down on the bed, and told myself I didn't care what had happened earlier in the evening.

I'd never been a very good liar.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

BEFORE THE FLOOD.

The next night I woke exhausted, having spent most of the day rolling, staring, cursing, replaying the events of the night before, mentally reenacting every moment Ethan and I had shared, and wondering how, why it had been so easy for him to trade me in for his precious political capital.

While that mystery loomed, I had work to do, so I rose, showered, dressed, ate a bowl of cereal in the darkness of my kitchen, slipped on the leather jacket, and grabbed the belted sword and the box of cupcakes I hadn't had time to deliver last night, preparing to return to Cadogan House and report for duty.

I'd just locked the front door and turned to descend the stoop steps when I saw Morgan leaning against his car, arms and ankles crossed. He was in jeans again, a black s.h.i.+rt tucked into jeans snugged with a heavy black belt, and the ubiquitous leather jacket.

He was grinning. "Hi."

I stood on the stoop, blinked, then took the steps and went for the garage, hoping the obvious uninterest would send him running.

Instead, he followed me, pausing at the threshold of the garage, a disarmingly cute grin on his face.

"You said I could call."

"Call," I repeated. "Not show up at dusk." I pulled open the garage door, walked inside, and unlocked the car door.

"You gave me permission to court you."

With what I thought was an impressive amount of control, I managed not to run him through with my sword, instead pulling open the driver's side door and sliding the katana into the backseat, then laying the box of cupcakes on the front. That done, I turned 003back to him.

"You put me on the spot in front of fifty vampires. I couldn't exactly say no." He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't give him the chance. "Fifty vampires, Morgan. Fifty, including my Master, another Master, and the leader of the Rogue vampires."

He grinned unapologetically, shrugged. "So I wanted witnesses."

"You wanted to mark your territory."

Morgan walked through the garage, squeezed between the narrow wall and the driver's side, and before I could scramble away, trapped me in the angle between the car and the open door, hands braced to bar my exit. He leaned in. "You're right. I wanted to mark my territory."

Ego deflation time. "You don't have a chance."

"I disagree. You danced with me. You fed me. You didn't slit my throat when given the opportunity." He grinned, bright and wicked. "You may be conflicted, but you're interested. Admit it."

I gave him a withering look that didn't succeed in flattening his smile or discouraging the Come Hither look it evolved into. "Not. A.

Chance."

"Liar. If Ethan ordered you to go out with me, you'd go."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, that's the salve your ego needs-you're only dating the Sentinel of Cadogan House because her Liege and Master forced her to meet you at a Wendy's."

He shook his head with mock solemnity. "Not Wendy's. Bennigans, at least."

I quirked up an eyebrow. "Bennigans? Big spender."

"The Windy City is at your disposal, Merit."

For a moment, we were quiet, just staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. I considered kicking him out, reneging on my promise to let him court me, but discarded that choice as politically irresponsible. I considered saying yes while explaining that I agreed only because I was duty-bound. And then I considered the other option-saying yes, because I wanted to go.

Because he was s.e.xy and funny, because we seemed to get along, because, even if he did have some kind of weird Celina baggage, he'd tried to protect her and stepped back when he realized his method wasn't working. I could respect that, even if I didn't understand the loyalty she commanded.

I took a calming breath, looked up at him. "One date."

He smiled a smile of masculine satisfaction. "Done," he said, then leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. "No reneging."

"I don't reneg," I said against his mouth.

"Hmmph." He sounded unconvinced, but kept kissing me anyway, and for some unknown reason, I let him.

Oh-he wasn't Ethan.

Callous? Maybe. But for now, that was reason enough.

Some minutes later, surprisingly pleasant minutes, I was in the car, making my way south. But before I headed to Cadogan House, I wanted to drop by my grandfather's office. I needed a sympathetic ear, and had no doubt that Grandpa's vampire informant had already filled him in on last night's rally. I drove with the radio off, the windows down, listening to the city on the quiet spring evening, preferring the sounds of rus.h.i.+ng vehicles to song lyrics about emotions I couldn't trust.

The neighborhood was, as usual, quiet. But there was an addition-Ethan's sleek black Mercedes parked outside. Only his car- no black SUV in sight.

More important, there was no sign at all of a security detail.

That was off. Ethan never traveled without guards, usually in the SUV that tailed his convertible; it was against protocol. I parked a little down the street, turned off the car, and grabbed my cell phone, punching in Luc's number. He answered before the second ring.

"Luc."

"It's Merit. Have you lost a Master vampire?"

He grumbled, cursed. "Where?"

"Ombud's office. The Mercedes is out front. I'm a.s.suming there's no guard in there with him?"

"We don't force guards on him," Luc testily responded, and I heard the snapping of papers through the phone. "Normally, I can trust him not to behave like an idiot and go off alone when there's a psychopath on the loose, Rogues up in arms."

Speaking of which, I sheepishly asked, "Any additional progress made last night?"

Luc sighed, and I imagined him settling into a slouch, crossing his booted ankles on the Ops Room table. "Morgan was d.a.m.n near chipper when he finally left, but that's probably your doing. I'm not sure how productive it was. n.o.body's got answers, the clues point everywhere. No evidence at the murder scenes except for the trinkets someone's leaving. But they know Ethan wouldn't do it, certainly wouldn't condone it. It's not the way he operates."

I understood that. If Ethan wanted something done, taken care of, he'd make d.a.m.n sure you knew it was coming from him.

"Listen," I said, "while we're on the phone." I paused, had to brace myself for the apology. "I'm sorry I bailed last night. After the thing with Morgan-" "Forgiven," Luc quickly answered. "You handled yourself, you stepped in when you needed to, and you gave Morgan a peaceful out. You did your job. I'm fine with that. That said, the f.u.c.king look on your face when he went down on one knee." He burst into raucous laughter. "Oh, sweet Jesus, Merit," he said, hiccup-ping with laughter. "It was priceless. Deer in headlights."

I made a face he couldn't see, double-checked the office door to look for movement, of which there was none. "I'm glad I can be a source of amus.e.m.e.nt for you, Luc."

"Consider it your hazing ritual. Your other one, anyway."

I chuckled. "Commendation, you mean? That was more of a hazing for Ethan than for me, unfortunately."

"No-your change."