House Rules
FOUNDING FATHERS
We drove to Little Italy, which was southwest of downtown Chicago.
In all fairness, the Bentley handled like a dream, which I suppose was the point of spending so much money on the car. Along with impressing your friends and intimidating your enemies.
The street Noah had identified was quiet, a weekday neighborhood of small businesses - banks, tailors, Realtors' offices. Most of the buildings were stand-alone and three or four stories tall, their windows bearing signs promising future condos and apartments.
As we neared the street number Noah had given us, Ethan pulled the Bentley into a parking slot in front of a sushi restaurant that now stood vacant. A dry cleaner was next door, and in the next building was the insult to our existence, the vampire registration office. Tonight was a weekend, and the building was dark. But come Monday at dusk, a line of vampires would appear outside the door awaiting the opportunity to give away their blessed anonymity to the bureaucracy of the city of Chicago.
Ethan and I got out of the car and strapped on our katanas. Chicago cops would probably lose it if they realized we were carrying dozens of inches of honed and tempered steel, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. There was no telling what kind of drama we might find, and I wanted to be prepared.
I jumped as a nearby car door slammed shut. Noah, who'd parked on the street a few cars back, walked toward us.
"You all right?" Ethan asked, glancing back at me.
"Fine," I said with a nod. "The sound startled me."
Ethan squeezed my hand supportively. "So Oliver and Eve came here to register," he said, glancing around. "Why this particular center?"
"They lived not far from here," Noah said. "So probably proximity."
"Sentinel? Thoughts?"
"They probably wouldn't have been alone," I suggested. "There would have been other vampires here, or the employees operating the registration center. Maybe they saw something, or could tell us if Oliver and Eve actually made it through the registration process? That might help us nail down the time line."
"That's something to check," Noah agreed.
"There's also no blood," I said. My vampiric instincts would have been triggered if there'd been a quantity of blood around. I hoped that meant Oliver and Eve hadn't succumbed to any harm.
"I'm not suggesting anything untoward has occurred," Ethan said, "but if it did, could they have been targeted because they were registering?"
"Maybe," Noah said. "But registration is supposed to soothe humans. Why punish vampires for doing what you've asked them to do?"
"Perhaps it wasn't humans who did the punishing," Ethan said. "Other Rogues might have been less than thrilled they'd decided to register. They might have seen it as a betrayal."
I thought Ethan had a point, but Noah wasn't thrilled at Ethan's implication. His look was arch. "You're suggesting we've created our own problems?"
But Ethan wasn't intimidated. "I'm asking. Is it possible?"
"I'd like to think not. But I don't control them."
So two vampires were missing, vamps we knew had visited a registration center. There weren't any obvious signs of violence or anything else that linked them to the site, or that suggested where they might have gone - or been taken - afterward.
Hands on my hips, teeth worrying my bottom lip, I glanced around the neighborhood. It was either very late or very, very early, depending on your perspective - and the area was quiet. Across the street from the registration center was another set of buildings: a pizzeria, closed for the night, and a boarded former apartment building surrounded by chain-link fence. But in between them, something interesting - a tidy, narrow, three-story condominium . . . with a suited doorman.
I glanced back at Noah. "Do you have the picture of Oliver and Eve?"
"On my phone, yeah."
I gestured toward the doorman. "He's on the night shift. Maybe we'll get lucky and he was on the night shift two nights ago, too."
A corner of Ethan's mouth curled. "Well done, Sentinel," he said, then gestured across the street. "Ladies first."
I waited until a very odiferous garbage truck rumbled past, then jogged across the street, Ethan and Noah behind me.
The doorman, the brass buttons of his burgundy coat gleaming, looked up nervously as we moved toward him, his eyes widening, his heartbeat speeding. If he'd had magic, I'd no doubt have felt the bitter pulse of his fear yards away.
As if protecting his castle from marauders, he stepped in front of the door. "Can I help you?"
"Noah," I said, extending my hand until he placed his phone in my palm. I checked the screen, saw the gentle smiling faces of two blond vampires - one male, one female.
I held it toward the doorman. "Our friends have disappeared, and we're trying to find them. We think they might have been across the street two nights ago. Do they look familiar to you?"
Without bothering to check the screen, the doorman crossed his arms over his barrel chest and narrowed his gaze at me.
"Not even a little peek?"
He blinked slowly.
"Perhaps this will jog your memory," Ethan said, extending a folded twenty-dollar bill between his fingers.
The doorman took it and slipped it into his coat pocket, then crossed his arms again. I guess Jackson wasn't his favorite president.
"How about President Grant?" Ethan asked, offering a fifty in the same way.
The doorman cast a suspicious gaze at it. "I prefer Benjamin Franklin's commonsense advice and down-home humor. But President Grant has his finer qualities." He took the bill and tucked it into his pocket. "What can I do for you this evening?"
I bit back a smile. "These two," I reminded him, wiggling the phone. "Have you seen them?"
This time his gaze slid to the screen. "I saw them," he said with a nod. "They went to the registration office."
"How do you remember them?" I wondered.
"They took photographs of themselves in line, like they were heading into a concert instead of registering with the city." He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess that seemed unusual to me."
It seemed unusual to me, too, but I didn't have a strong enough sense of Oliver and Eve to know whether it was unusual for them.
"What happened after that?" I asked.
He shrugged and looked straight ahead again.
"Really," I flatly said.
He cast me a sideways glance. "Inflation, don't you know."
Irritation building, I put a hand on my sword and stepped forward.
Sentinel, Ethan silently cautioned, but it was time to walk the walk.
"This sword isn't for show," I said. "It's honed steel, and it's very sharp, and I'm very good at using it."
"She is," Noah and Ethan simultaneously agreed.
"We aren't asking you for much - only information, for which we have handsomely paid." I tapped the top of the sword's pommel. "I can't imagine your residents would be thrilled to learn that you irritated people carrying weapons instead of simply telling them what they wanted to know and allowing them to be on their way."
He scowled.
"Commonsense advice," I reminded him with a saccharine smile.
The doorman scowled again, his upper lip curled, but relented. "They went in, came out again."
"And got in their cars and drove away?" I wondered.
"Actually, no," he said. He pointed across the street. "Car pulled up in the alley."
The dry cleaner sat on one side of the registration office, the alley on the other.
"A car?" Noah asked. "What kind of car?"
He shrugged. "Didn't see it. Just the headlights - they were shining out of the alley. The vampires walked over there like they were checking it out, maybe talking to the driver. Then headlights dim like the car's backing out of the alley."
"Did you see them leave again?" I asked.
The doorman shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Maybe they were meeting up with friends? This is America. I don't keep track." Thinking he'd been insulted, he turned his gaze blankly back to the street again. We'd lost his interest.
"Thanks," I told the doorman. "We appreciate it."
He didn't look much impressed by the thanks, but he nodded anyway. "You're blocking the door."
Ethan touched my arm. "Let's check out the alley," he said, and with the doorman scowling at our backs, we crossed the street once again.
* * *
I tried to imagine I was a cop - walking a beat like my grandfather had - except with added vampire sensibilities.
I walked to the edge of the alley, then closed my eyes and breathed in the night air, let the sounds around me unfurl. Unknown droplets fell ahead of us in the alley, which smelled of dampness and garbage, rusty metal and dirt. Luckily I got no obvious sense of violence - no scents of blood or gunpowder.
When I was sure the coast was clear, I stepped into the darkness. It wasn't the first alley I'd seen; in Chicago, they mostly looked the same: puddles of dirty water on the ground, brick walls, a Dumpster, and an emergency exit or two.
I looked for any clue that would have explained why Oliver and Eve walked into this alley.
After a moment of scanning the ground, a glint caught my eye, and I crouched down. There were chunks of glass on the ground. Not shards, but square pieces. It was safety glass, the kind used in car windows.
"What did you find?" Ethan asked, stepping behind me.
"There's glass here. Could be from the vehicle the doorman sort of saw."
"Very long odds of that," Ethan remarked. "If the glass was broken, surely the vampires out front would have heard it and investigated."
"Probably," I agreed, standing up again and dusting my hands on my pants.
The shrill ringing of a cell phone filled the alley. Instinctively I checked my phone, but it was dark and silent.
"Is that yours?" Ethan asked, and I shook my head and scanned the alley, realizing the sound was coming from a few feet away, near a red metal Dumpster.
I walked closer, the sound growing louder, and kicked aside a few windblown bits of trash. A vibrantly pink phone lay on the concrete, flashing as someone tried to reach the phone's owner.
No - not just someone. The screen flashed with a phone number and name; the caller was Rose, Noah's Rogue friend. I had a sinking suspicion I knew whose phone this was, and my stomach flipped uncomfortably.
"Noah," I called out, and felt him move behind me, his nervous energy tickling the air.
"That's Eve's phone," he solemnly pronounced. "I'd know it anywhere. It's old and does pretty much nothing but take calls, but she refuses to upgrade. Rose is probably trying to reach her - to check on her again. She's worried. She keeps calling. I've told her to stop, but . . ."
I understood that fear, and sympathized. But I didn't think finding Eve's phone in an alley signaled very good news.
"Perhaps Eve just dropped it here?" Ethan wondered. "Oliver did call Rose earlier. There's a chance this is all a misunderstanding."
Ethan's tone was optimistic, probably intended to keep Noah calm. And he was right: We really had no idea how or why the phone had ended up here, although it did confirm that Eve had been in the alley. But it also made her and Oliver's disappearances look less and less like they might be voluntary.
"It seems unlikely she'd have just left it," Noah said. He rubbed a hand over his face, seeming suddenly exhausted.
The ringing stopped, leaving the alley silent . . . and a little grim.
"Do you have a handkerchief?" Ethan asked. "We'll want to get it to the Ombud's office - they have connections - but we don't want to disturb any evidence."
He was right. There could be fingerprints or biological material on the phone, evidence that could help us figure out exactly what had gone on.
"Bandanna," Noah said, pulling one printed in pixilated camouflage from his pocket and handing it over.
Gingerly I picked up the phone with the cloth. While I was gathering evidence, I walked back to the pile of glass and snagged a square. I folded the packet carefully, then looked at Noah.
"I'll give this to Jeff Christopher, and we'll have him check Eve's call log. Maybe there's a clue about where she might be."
Jeff was one of my grandfather's pseudo-employees, an adorable and quirky computer genius. He was also a shape-shifter and member of the North American Central Pack. Along with Catcher, a rogue sorcerer, my grandfather's admin, Marjorie, and a "secret" Housed vamp I hadn't heard about in a while, they kept an eye on supernatural comings and goings and helped us manage whatever crises popped up. Since their office had been closed by the mayor, they'd all been working together at my grandfather's house.
A black cat hopped down from the neighboring yard's retaining wall, gazed at us warily, and trotted to the Dumpster, presumably to look for a snack. Oblivious to the danger, birds began to chirp nearby, a cheery song that announced the impending break of morning.
I glanced up at the sky. The eastern horizon was just beginning to pale. Sunrise was on its way, which meant we were running out of time. Vampires and sunlight didn't mix, not without fatal consequences.
Ethan checked his watch. "We've not quite an hour before dawn. We should get back to the House."
"The world continues to turn," Noah said.
"So it does," Ethan agreed. "And hopefully for Oliver and Eve, as well." We walked back toward the alley entrance, the birds singing behind us.
"We'll find them," Ethan said.
Noah nodded, but didn't seem convinced. "I hope so. They're good kids."
"We don't doubt it," Ethan said. They shook hands, and Noah walked back to his car. We followed and climbed silently into the Bentley.
"Do you really think we're going to find them?" I asked, leaving unspoken the fear that we'd find them, but too late.
"I don't know," Ethan said. "But we will do our damnedest to try."
Of course we would. But would our damnedest be enough?
* * *
I had evidence that might help lead us to Oliver and Eve, but I was about to be forced offline. The sun was our ultimate weakness, an allergy that rendered us permanently nocturnal. This being winter in the Midwest, we were out of the investigation game for the next nine hours.
On the other hand, the members of the Ombud's office - the Ombuddies, as I preferred to call them - who usually adopted supernaturals' overnight hours, were at least capable of venturing about in daylight. So I used the fancy electronics in Ethan's car to dial Jeff's number, hoping he'd be sympathetic to our predicament.
"Yo," Jeff answered, his voice ringing through the Bentley's impeccable stereo system.
"Hey, it's Merit."
"Merit. Have you finally decided to ditch the zero and get with the hero?"
Ethan cleared his throat - loudly - while I bit back a smile. I didn't see anything wrong with reminding Ethan that I had other options. Even if they were slightly goofy options I'd never actually take advantage of.
"Jeff, you're on speakerphone in Ethan's car. He's driving."
There was an awkward pause.
"Hello, Jeffrey," Ethan dryly said.
Jeff laughed nervously. "Oh, hi, Ethan. Hey, look, it's Catcher. Catcher, why don't you join us?"
"Vampires?" Catcher asked, his voice a bit farther away in the room.
"Ethan and Merit," Jeff confirmed.
Catcher made a sarcastic sound, but whether a snort or grunt was impossible to tell through the phone.
"Trouble?" I wondered.
"I've got a River nymph panicking about a zoning change on Goose Island and another who's panicked some Oak Street shop won't hold a pair of designer heels until she has time to pick them up. Because that's the kind of work our office does. We are personal assistants for the supernaturals of Chicago."
Catcher's tone was dry, and I sympathized. The River nymphs were petite, busty, and fashionable ladies who controlled the ebb and flow of the Chicago River. They tended toward the dramatic, and they liked expressing that drama in public screaming matches and other shenanigans. Catcher might not have liked listening to their quarrels, petty or not, but he was performing a service by keeping them out of the paper, even if it made him grouchier toward the rest of us. And his baseline level of grouchy was already pretty high.
"I'm sorry about the theatrics," I said. "And not to add to your plate, but we have a problem. Two of Noah's Rogues - Oliver and Eve - are missing."
"We've just left the last location where we can place them," Ethan put in. "Near the registration center in Little Italy."
"Find anything?" Catcher asked.
"What looks like safety glass and Eve's cell phone," I said. "We talked to the doorman across the street, and he saw Oliver and Eve go into the reg center, then come out again and approach a car in the alley. No info about the car's make or model; he only saw the headlights. Oliver and Eve didn't come out again. The glass and cell phone were all we found."
"I'm not sure that bodes well," Catcher said.
"I'm not sure, either," I agreed. "But at least they're clues. The sun, of course, is rising, and we're on our way back to the House. Is there any way you can get your CPD contacts to look at it during business hours? We're afraid to wait until tonight."
"Chuck might have to call in a favor, but we'll get it done. Maybe leave the goods with the fairies?"
I glanced at Ethan, checking for approval, and he nodded. "We'll arrange it," he said.
"Noted. Do we know anything else about these kids?"
"They were generally quiet, hailed from Kansas City," Ethan said. "They seem to have strong connections among Rogues and are well liked."
"No enemies?" Catcher wondered. "Even though they decided to register?"
"We wondered the same thing," Ethan said. "But if there's trouble in that corner, we don't know about it."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear they're missing. I didn't know them, but if they were friends of Noah's, I'm sure they were good people."
Were, he'd said, as if their fate was a foregone conclusion. But I refused to give up.
"We'll call you as soon as the sun goes down," I said. "If you learn anything that explains where they might be, you win the bonus prize for the evening."
"What's the bonus prize?"
And that was the problem with spur-of-the-moment offers. "Um, I'll order pizza for the office?"
"Make it double meat and you've got a deal," Catcher said.
"Done," I said.
The perky sound of a country song - the lyrics about partying hard after a long day of work on the graveyard shift - suddenly filled the car, emanating from the speakerphone.
Catcher muttered a curse and the sound went silent. But the silence didn't eliminate the questions.
"Was that - was that your ringtone?" I asked, simultaneously comforted and amused by the weird contradiction that was Catcher Bell. He was built, gruff, and an expatriate of the Order, the sorcerers' governing body, which had kicked him out. He was also a protector of Mallory - at least until her magical misanthropy - a lover of Lifetime movies, and, so it seemed, a lover of country music.
I had no objections to country music. It just wasn't the type of thing Catcher would ever admit to. Except that it was on his ringtone, for God's sake, and I had two independent witnesses.
Some nights there was justice in the world, even if it was meted out only in a dribble of Billboard country/pop crossover.
"Enjoy the country music, do you?" I wondered.
"Don't push your luck," Catcher grumbled. "This is the South Branch nymph calling, and I need to go deal with her. We'll talk to you tonight."
The line went dead before we could respond - or I could harass Catcher any more about his ringtone.
"You're going to use that against him, aren't you?" Ethan asked.
"As much as possible," I agreed.
The Ombud arrangements made, I texted Jonah - my RG partner - to let him know Noah had pulled us into the investigation. Jonah was also Noah's friend and RG colleague, so there seemed little doubt Noah had already told him about the missing vampires. But he needed to know we'd undertaken the assignment, so to speak.
ADVISE IF NEED ASSIST, he messaged back.
I promised I would, but that wasn't the end of the conversation.
ALSO RG INITIATION IMMINENT. DETAILS TBA.
I stared at the message for a moment, my heart thudding with my sudden nerves. I'd known the RG ceremony was coming, but I hadn't known precisely when. It wasn't so much the initiation that made me nervous as the commitment to the RG. My relationship with Ethan was just getting off the ground, and the House was in a precarious situation. I believed in the RG's mission - keeping an eye on the GP and the Houses - now more than ever. But that didn't make me feel any more comforted about making my ties official and unbreakable.
"Trouble?" Ethan asked, sparing me a glance.
"Nothing I can't handle," I said, tucking the phone away again. I hoped it was true.
One crisis at a time, I told myself.
I told myself that a lot. Unfortunately, our world rarely worked that way.
* * *
Cadogan House had three aboveground floors, all equally posh and full of expensive furniture and lush decor. Ethan's apartments - we shared them, but they bore his stamp - were on the third floor.
We met Malik on the stairs, also on his way to bed, and exchanged updates about our evenings. We filled him in on our visit to the alley; he reported on the party.
"Two thumbs up for the catering," he said, "and everyone seemed friendly enough. But your absence was noted. The mood deflated a bit when you left."
"I was afraid of that," Ethan said. "Two families throw a party and the heads of the families disappear? It doesn't read positively."
"The Rogues are aware of Oliver and Eve's possible disappearance. Some are concerned for their friends and are glad we're on board. Others are concerned Rogues will be dragged into Cadogan politics."
Ethan lifted his gaze to the ceiling, as if exhausted by the premise. "We engage in politics because it is required of us. If vampires would simply act appropriately, there'd be no need of it." He glanced at me. "We should have that embroidered on a T-shirt."
"It's not exactly catchy, but I could make that happen."
"I'm sure you could. In any event, Malik, thank you for handling it."
"Of course, Liege."
Ethan winced at the title. "Please stop calling me that. You're still officially the Master."
"Oh, I know," Malik said. "But much like Merit, I find it amusing to irritate you."
As Malik walked down the hallway and around the corner, Ethan turned his pointed gaze on me.
I shrugged innocently. "I can't help it if I'm a trendsetter."
Ethan humphed but took my hand, and we continued to the third floor and down the hallway, saying good night to the vampires we passed.
Luc was returning to Lindsey's room, which was only a few doors down from Ethan's. Given the look of adoration on his face as she opened the door for him - even though her hair was tucked into a messy bun and her face was covered with a layer of green goo - I'd say things were working out just fine between them.
"Avocado mask," she explained, before I could ask exactly what the green goo was. "It's great for the skin."
"You were making guacamole and you had extra, didn't you?"
"My girlfriend, the salad," Luc said. "Yummy."
"Keep it to yourselves," Ethan good-naturedly said, putting a hand at my back and steering me gently down the hallway. "And you don't give me that look," he said with a chuckle. "They're your friends."
"They're your guards."
"I didn't hire them for their senses of humor. That's why you're better positioned as Sentinel. Guards are expected to be obedient."
That was quite an opening. "And Sentinels aren't?" I asked with a smile. "Because if you're willing to concede that I don't fall beneath the umbrella of your authority, I can work with that."
He tucked his hand into mine. "Don't push your luck."
This hadn't been the most pleasant of evenings; thank God for the little things that reminded us we were home.
I used my key, now sharing the ring with keys to my Volvo and my grandfather's house, to unlock the door. Ethan obviously had a key of his own, but he allowed me the ceremony.
His posture changed the moment he walked into his apartment. His shoulders relaxed, as if he'd dropped the mantle of power and authority that usually weighed him down.
His apartment consisted of three rooms - a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Like the rest of the House, all three were decorated with a kind of European-chic flair: tall ceilings, crown molding, and expensive paintings.
The sitting room was bathed in the warm glow of lamps and candles that had already been prepared for our arrival. Circles of light contrasted with the deep shadows that covered the corners of the room. The furniture was oversized and built of dark wood. I could easily imagine Marie Antoinette returning to a similar room at the end of a night of French carousing.
A portion of the sitting room had been dedicated to mementos of Ethan's centuries as a vampire. A table held runes and weapons, and a tall glass case held an egg made of gold, enamel, and precious stones. The egg was wrapped in a ruby-eyed dragon, and it was displayed under glass and a beam of light that made its gems sparkle magically.
The egg had been a gift to Peter Cadogan, the House's eponymous Master, from a member of the Russian aristocracy, who also happened to be a fairy. I wasn't sure of the reason for the gift, other than a vague "favor" done by Peter, but the egg's beauty was undeniable.
Since I lived in the apartment, too, Margot had left a snack with the drink that was waiting for Ethan on a tray on a side table. I got a chocolate truffle; he got a bottle of seltzer water. Finding a bedtime snack at the end of the night did not suck.
Still, the most remarkable things about our evenings weren't those little luxuries. It was the simple fact that we were here together. I'd challenged Ethan after I'd learned he made me a vampire; our relationship had a tense, stop-and-start history, and his brief period of mortality hadn't helped. I was still in awe that we'd come together in a relationship that seemed to be working. He was stubborn and political and an utter control freak, and there were certainly times when his bossiness chafed. But he loved his vampires, and he undoubtedly loved me, and I tried to be thankful for all the little moments we had together, even those as simple as our bedtime rituals - of the teeth-brushing, pajama-donning, prepping-for-the-day-ahead variety.
He disappeared into his closet, which was as large as my former dorm-sized bedroom and furnished as well as the rest of the apartment.
I kicked off my boots and threw my jacket on the bed - it was also nice to have someone who cleaned up after me every night - and flopped down onto my back. The linens were lush and fluffy, and I sank into the middle of the bed and closed my eyes.
"So, your first outing as social chair wasn't entirely successful," Ethan called out.
"I can't keep an eye on every Rogue vampire."
"True. You can barely keep an eye on yourself."
I rolled my eyes, but got up and walked toward the closet, which I could have counted as another room. The floor was covered in thick carpet, and the walls were shelved in cherrywood. Clothes were divided into sections - jackets, pants, shoes, ties, and coats, and long, flat drawers for folded items. Ethan had graciously offered room in each of those sections to me, although my simple wardrobe didn't take up much space.
The middle of the closet held a storage unit that looked like an expensive piece of European furniture, and a leather bench for changing clothes or putting on shoes. Mirrors filled empty bays, and track lighting illuminated the whole room like a perfectly prepped Vogue set.
Ethan wore a suit nearly every night, and the closet was filled with well-fitting black jackets and pants. But even the value of the fabric and tailoring was second to the artifact that hung in an alcove on the opposite end of the closet: In an ornate gilded frame was a moody painting by Van Gogh. It was a landscape at dusk, a golden field of wheat topped by a dark indigo sky, Van Gogh's telltale swirls of clouds hovering above it.
I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms as I admired it. It was a simple painting, and a small one, only a few inches across. But there was depth in the scene that appealed to me . . . not unlike the vampire disrobing a few feet away from it.
Ethan wore only boxer briefs, his long and lean body exposed to my salacious glance. It was easy to appreciate him in a purely aesthetic way - his body was like a perfectly honed sculpture: curves and flat planes of muscle, golden skin that should have given way to vampiric paleness some time ago. And on the back of one calf, a mysterious tattoo he wouldn't explain, even to me.
Thank God he had no idea how much control was required of me just to be near him. Although given the knowing glance he offered when our eyes met, maybe he did.
I closed my eyes to reset the visual. As intriguing as he was, we had more pressing issues.
"Oliver and Eve," I said. "What do you think?"
"There are too many possibilities for us to even theorize at this point. This could be a simple miscommunication. Or perhaps Oliver and Eve were reacting to a slight and chose not to contact Noah and the others for a time."
"Maybe Oliver and Eve fought with others about the fact that they decided to register. That couldn't have thrilled everyone."
"And Eve's phone in the alley?" Ethan asked.
"Maybe she threw it in anger? Like an 'I'm furious they're furious at me for no reason'" - I mimicked hurling something at him - "kind of reaction."
Ethan flipped off the closet light and walked toward me, an eyebrow arched. "I certainly hope that's not your best pitch. Because it was pathetic."
I smiled at his attempt at humor, at ending our night on something other than a note of fear and despair. The sun was rising and there was nothing we could do for Oliver and Eve while it was up. But we could be ourselves, and for those few moments of peace and solitude in the home we'd made together, we could find joy.
"You wouldn't know a good pitch from a hole in the ground. And my athletic prowess is unsurpassed," I asserted.
Ethan stopped, that eyebrow still irritatingly cocked, and put a hand against the doorjamb, leaning over me.
"Your athletic prowess?"
"Just so," I said, using one of his favorite phrases. "I have all the right moves."
With a look hot enough to melt me into a puddle of girl, he caught my hand, then whipped my body against his.
"Okay, you have all the right moves," I said, my lids dropping as the sun began to rise . . . and as he moved his hands to the small of my back and pressed me tighter into his body.
"You gave in so quickly, Sentinel," he murmured. He maneuvered me backward toward the bed, which left little doubt about the reason for those moves. He was a predator in full alpha mode . . . and he was ready for action.
With his hands at my hips, his mouth found mine. His kiss was intense, nearly brutal in its force. It was a show of arousal and an expression of something. His feelings for me, certainly. His frustrations at the world, possibly.
The back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. Unbalanced, I tottered, but he kept me upright. "I have the advantage."
"I'm not fighting back."
"In that case," he said, slipping an arm behind my knees and tossing me onto the bed, "there's no reason to play coy."
Ethan covered my body with his. My heartbeat quickened, as did the pulse of blood through my veins. It was as if my heart knew his scent, his body, and his magic, and anticipated his bite. As if our vampiric natures had connected on a biological level separate from our hearts and minds, like our predatory souls had found kindred spirits.
I leaned up into the kiss, taking full advantage of the things he offered - things that I'd missed and only truly come to appreciate while he'd been gone, taken by a stake through the heart.
Dawn drew closer, bringing with it the hazy exhaustion that struck all vampires. We fought back sleep with the press of skin and the rhythm of our bodies, and as the sun breached the horizon with a crown of orange and gold, we pushed each other under, and slept together until the sun fell again.