House Rules (Chicagoland Vampires #7)(34)
Author: Chloe Neill

Malik looked at me. "Merit confronted them?"

"I approached; they left."

"Any word yet from the GP?" Ethan asked.

Malik shook his head. "They’ve been completely incommunicado. I presume they’ll be here when it’s time for the ceremony, but they haven’t reached out."

"Is it just me, or is that completely unlike them?" I asked, glancing between them. "Why bother to get here early if they aren’t going to use the time to harass us?"

Ethan nodded. "Unfortunately, I tend to agree. And a bit of last-minute drama isn’t out of the question." He glanced at Malik. "I’m going to head up and take a shower. Please tell Luc about the SUV, and let’s warn the House in the event they’re still out there."

Not exactly the most comforting of thoughts.

* * *

I was also grungy from the run, so I grabbed a shower as soon as Ethan was finished and climbed into my leathers, as I had no idea what the night might bring.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and touched the hollow of my neck where my Cadogan medal formerly would have rested.

I’d given back the medal I’d been wearing during last night’s ceremony. But that was only one of the two I owned. The first I’d been given had been stolen, and I’d eventually gotten it back. Last night’s medal had been the replacement; the original sat in a small box in the bottom of my nightstand in Ethan’s room. Because I hadn’t been wearing it last night, I hadn’t had an opportunity to give it back.

But now that I remembered, I still didn’t offer it up. I wasn’t going to wear it; that seemed dishonest, especially when all my fellow vampires had given up their own. But this medal had been stolen and returned by Seth Tate, and I had no idea what magic he’d done while he’d had it. Maybe nothing; maybe wicked acts.

The medal would stay in its box, at least until I was sure one way or the other.

By the time I was ready to go, Ethan was dressed as well, in a perfectly fitted suit. Every molecule of clothing on his body was bespoke and perfect, from the slacks that ran the length of his long legs to the suit jacket that fit his shoulders as if it had been hand-sewn for him by an elderly European gentleman with small needles and thick chalk.

Come to think of it, I bet that was exactly how it had been made.

Whatever its origins, he looked sharp. He looked in charge, and every bit the Master of the House.

"Do you need anything for the GP ceremony?"

"No," he said. "One night without drama would be appreciated, but that seems unlikely in the near term."

I hardened my heart against the half lie I was about to tell – or at least the substantial omission. "Since we’ve got a bit of time before the ceremony, and unless you need me here, I’d like to check in about the murders. I might visit my grandfather, see if they’ve learned anything. It bothers me that we still don’t have a lead, especially when we gave our word to Noah. Plus, I’m stressed about the murders and the GP" – and the other thing I’m not supposed to be telling you about, I silently thought – "and my grandfather usually offers me Oreos. I like a good Oreo now and again."

"Is there anything you won’t do for food?"

I struck a pose with a hand on one cocked hip, and grinned at him with lowered lids. "It depends on the food."

His gaze was appreciative. "I’m not sure if we’re discussing food or innuendo. Either way, this may be the best conversation we’ve ever had."

I walked over and pressed my lips to his, lingering a moment longer than I might have, basking in the moment.

The moment before everything changed.

Before I swore allegiance to the Red Guard.

Before he pulled the House’s allegiance to the Greenwich Presidium.

Ethan tilted his head at me. "You’re all right?"

"Nervous," I said honestly. "Big night."

He made a vague sound of agreement. "One of the biggest. And we’ll see what comes of it."

Before the night was through, I was sure we would.

* * *

I had some time before the ceremony, and I did intend to make good on my promise to visit my grandfather. Or at least check in with him before my visit to the lighthouse.

Thinking blood and food were in order before I headed downstairs, I walked down the hallway to the kitchen to grab a snack.

There were bagels on the counter, but Margot had skipped the cream cheese, probably as a cost-cutting measure.

I’d just tucked one into a napkin and pulled a bottle of Blood4You from the fridge when Lacey stepped into the kitchen. Once again, she wore skinny jeans, and she’d paired them with a trendy striped top and boots.

With no acknowledgment of me other than the mild glance she offered in my direction, she walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of very expensive water. Only the best for the best, I supposed.

She shut the door, then leaned back against it. "I’ve heard you two are seeing each other."

No need to ask whom she meant. I glanced back at her. "We are."

"You aren’t good for him."

I’d been heading for the door – hoping to avoid any drama and hit the road – when I stopped short. "Excuse me?"

"You aren’t what he needs."

Anger bit me with a sharp ferocity. "And what is that, exactly?"

"Not just a tool. Not just a fist. The House is precarious; although I’ve got my own House now, don’t doubt my love for Cadogan. This place is in my blood. It’s where I was made, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you run it – and him – into the ground. You’re the reason this House is leaving the GP. If it falters, that’s on you."

I managed to form words, which was more than I would have thought possible given my anger. "My relationship – his relationship – is really none of your business."

"It is my business," she countered. "This House is my business, and the Master who made me is my business."

Master or not, she was pissing me off. "Your business is in San Diego. You left this House and Ethan when you went there. I don’t appreciate your poaching on what is, quite clearly, my territory."

Before she could answer, two other Cadogan vampires – Christine and Michelle – both in workout clothes, walked into the kitchen. They waved at me and said polite hellos to Lacey – Grateful Condescension, I supposed – before grabbing sports drinks from the fridge and bananas from a bowl on the counter.

They said nothing more to either of us, but their heads were bowed together as they left; they were undoubtedly chatting about the kitchen encounter between Ethan’s lover and his lover-in-waiting. I didn’t even try to catch their whispers; I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what they were saying . . . mostly for fear that they were right.