House Rules (Chicagoland Vampires #7)(14)
Author: Chloe Neill

"No. More an affinity. A kinship. They are two of a kind."

Darius was fastidious and proper, and the Cadogan vampires called Lacey the Ice Queen. She was as carefully styled and modulated as Ethan – without the endearing personality. A friendship between her and Darius actually made a warped kind of sense.

"Darius is a member of the old guard," he said. "We challenge the authority of the GP and, by virtue, his authority. By becoming Rogues, we become that which they despise: outcasts and traitors. I’m hoping that Lacey’s presence – an ally of his own, in a sense – will mitigate his more dictatorial sensibilities."

Ethan ran his hands through his hair, then crossed them behind his head and leaned back against the headboard again. He looked concerned, and was obviously unaware of how the move tightened the muscles in his torso and made him look even more like a distracted cologne model from a GQ spread.

I couldn’t fault his logic. It was entirely reasonable that he’d ask Lacey to visit. I wasn’t crazy about the idea – mostly because I wasn’t crazy about her – but I was also a grown-up.

"Okay," I said.

He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes. "Okay?"

"Okay," I repeated with a smile. "I appreciate your honesty. I don’t trust her any farther than I can throw her, but I’ll deal."

"Why don’t you trust her?" I saw the pain in his eyes; he was afraid I thought he’d be unfaithful. But it wasn’t him I worried about.

"She’s still in love with you."

"She is not in love with me," he countered, but there was a hint of pink in his cheeks.

"I assure you she is, and she’s all but willing to take me out to get to you."

He looked mildly amused . . . and flattered in an ego-driven, masculine kind of way. "And you know this because?"

"She stares at you, she hangs on every word . . . and she told me."

He looked surprised. "She told you?"

"She told me." Maybe not in so many words, but she’d gotten the point across.

"Merit, Lacey has lived in Sheridan House for years. She is the only Master in a city with hundreds of vampires, and – I say this without personal interest – she’s a perfectly attractive woman. I assure you – if she wanted a suitor, she could find one."

Not when she’s holding out for you, I silently thought, but kept that to myself. If he was truly that naive about her feelings, I figured that benefited me. It would be harder for her to woo him away if he had no romantic thoughts of her.

"Okay, then."

Ethan looked at me. He watched me, really checking my mood and whether that "okay" meant okay in the male sense ("okay") or the female sense ("possibly okay; it depends on what you say next").

"You mean that," he said.

"I do. I trust you. I’m not entirely sure I trust her, but I trust you." I put my hand on his. "And more important, I know you’re worried about the House – and about Darius and the GP. Do what you need to do. I’ll live."

Without warning, he pounced, wrapping my body in his, his warmth penetrating through to my core. As a vampire, I was often cold; Ethan Sullivan was by far the best blanket a girl could ask for.

"What time do they arrive?" I murmured.

"Hours yet." He nipped at my neck and pulled me closer, a suggestion of exactly how we might spend those hours.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards for me tonight. "You’ve got work to do, and I need to get moving. We’ve got missing vampires and an Ombudsman who’s probably already left half a dozen messages on my phone."

"That should fill out your schedule for the night," he said.

Still beneath him, I stretched out and snagged my cell phone from my nightstand. No calls or messages, which was unusual, but we were only a few minutes past dusk. Perhaps Catcher hadn’t seen the point in sending a message I wouldn’t have been able to read for hours anyway. "Barring a zombie attack, yes."

"More likely a human attack than a zombie attack," Ethan said.

"Potato, potato. Either way, the attacks would be mindless, and they’d be out for blood. Hey," I said, poking his chest. "What do zombies chant at a riot?"

"Grrarphsnarg?" he asked, in a surprisingly well-done bit of mindless zombie imitating.

"No, but that was really good. Disconcertingly good."

"I was deceased for a time."

"True. But anyway, the rioters get all riled up, and they chant: ‘What do we want? Brains! When do we want them? Brains!’" I fell into a wave of appropriately boisterous laughter; Ethan seemed less impressed.

"I truly hope the stipend we pay you doesn’t get spent on the development of jokes like that."

"It gets spent on smoked meats to supplement this House’s paltry smoked-meats selection."

"There’s probably a twelve-step program for meat addiction, and I imagine the program starts by admitting you have a problem."

"Loving smoked meats isn’t a problem. It’s a birthright. Especially for the fanged. All right," I said, slapping Ethan on the butt. "Off. I need to get dressed, as do you."

But he didn’t shift the weight of his body; instead, he cupped my face in his hand. "Be careful out there."

"Yes, Liege," I dutifully said.

Ethan turned to his side, and I climbed off the bed and headed toward the shower. But I paused in the doorway just long enough to wink. "And do try to keep your hands to yourself."

His smile widened. "Michael Donovan is an attractive man, Sentinel. But I’ll do my best."

Ethan Sullivan, registered smart-ass.

* * *

I quickly cleaned, loofa-ed, and shampooed, spending less time in Ethan’s roaring shower than I would have liked. When I was just clean enough, I toweled through my hair, pulled it into a high ponytail – my signature move – and brushed out my bangs.

Ethan dipped into the shower as I walked back into the bedroom to dress. My clothes were easy to assemble – leather pants, shirt, leather jacket, and boots. An ensemble that would protect me against the chill in the air and serve me well in a fight . . . in case that became necessary.

I already wore the gold medal around my neck that identified my name and position and marked me as a member of Cadogan House. I tucked a sleek dagger – a gift from Ethan that bore a coin in the hilt similar to my House medal – into my boot, and grabbed my scabbarded katana from the table near the door. I hadn’t pulled it last night, but I was planning on visiting the Ombuddies tonight, including Catcher. He’d given me the katana and trained me in how to use it, and there was no way I’d carry it near him without ensuring it was clean.