Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires #1)(65)
Author: Chloe Neill

"Yes, Mer, but you’ve been a vampire for, what, a week? He’s been a vamp for nearly four hundred years. That’s a freakin’ plethora of weeks. You have to think it, I don’t know, bleeds some of the human out of him."

I gnawed on my bottom lip, staring blankly at the passing houses, the side streets. "I’m not in love with him. I’m not that stupid." I scratched absently at my head. "I don’t know what it is."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, so fiercely that I thought for a second we were under attack. "I’ve got it."

Once I was sure she was fine, that there weren’t bat-winged beasts descending on the car, I slapped her arm. "Damn, girl. Don’t do that when I’m driving."

"Sorry," she said, swiveling in her seat, her face alight. "But I’ve got an idea – maybe it’s the vampire thing – the fact that he made you? They say that’s supposed to create a bond."

I considered that, decided to embrace it, and felt some of the tension leave my shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah. That could be it." It did explain the connection between us, and was much more emotionally satisfying than imagining I was falling for someone so utterly, completely wrong for me. Someone so embarrassed by his interest in me.

As we pulled into the drive, I gave the thought a final hearty nod. "Yeah," I told her. "That’s it."

She looked at me, waited a beat, then nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Good."

She grinned at me. "Good."

I grinned back at her. "Great."

"Great, fine, wonderful, Jesus, let’s just get out of the car."

We did.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TWO’S COMPANY – THREE’S A MADHOUSE.

One day passed, then two, then four. It was surprisingly easy to fall into the routines of being a vampire. Sleeping during the day. Supplementing my diet with blood. Learning the ropes of Cadogan security (including the protocols) and doing my best to prepare for the responsibility of defending the House. At this early point, that generally involved pretending to be as competent as my actually skilled colleagues.

The protocols weren’t difficult to understand, but there were many to learn. They were divided, much like the katas, into categories – offensive action plans, defensive action plans. The bulk of them fell into the latter category – how we were supposed to react if groups attacked the House or any particular Cadogan vampire, how we’d structure counterattacks. The maneuvers varied by the size of the band of marauders and whether they used swords or magic against us. Whoever the enemy, our first priority was to secure Ethan, then the rest of the in-house vamps and the building itself, coordinating with other allies when possible. Once Chicago was secure, we were to check in with the Cadogan vamps who didn’t live in Cadogan House.

Under the House, beneath a small parking structure I was clearly too low in the chain to have a spot in, were access points to underground tunnels that ran parallel to the city’s extensive sewer system. From the tunnels, we could scramble to our assigned safe houses. Cheerily, we were only given the address of one house so the locations of the slate of them couldn’t be tortured out of us. I was working on managing my panic about the fact that I was now part of an organization that had a need for secret evacuation tunnels and safe houses, an organization that had to plan around the possibility of group torture.

I also learned, after nearly a week of watching Luc and Lindsey interact, that he was seriously hung up on her. The vitriol and sarcasm he dished out on a daily basis – and there was a lot of it – was clearly a plea for her attention. A dismally unsuccessful plea. Luc may have had it bad, but Lindsey wasn’t buying.

Ever curious, and that was going to burn my ass one of these days, I decided to ask her about it. We were in line, trays in hand in the first-floor cafeteria, picking from a selection of almost irritatingly healthy menu choices, when I asked her, "Do you want to tell me about you and everyone’s favorite cowboy?"

Lindsey pulled three cartons of milk onto her tray, taking so long to answer me that I wondered if she’d heard the question in the first place. Eventually, she shrugged. "He’s okay."

That was all I got until we were seated around a wooden table in ladder-back chairs, dark with age. "Okay, but not okay enough?"

Lindsey folded open a milk carton and took a long drink, then shrugged with more neutrality than I knew she actually felt. "Luc’s great. But he’s my boss. I don’t think that’s a good idea."

"You were goading me a few days ago about having a fling with Ethan." I lifted my sandwich and took a bite that was heavy on sprouts and light on flavor. Wrong kind of crunch, I concluded.

"Luc’s great. He’s just not for me."

"You get along well."

I pushed, and she broke. "And wouldn’t that be lovely," she said, dropping her fork with obvious irritation, "until we broke up and then had to work together? No, thanks." Without looking up at me, she started picking absently through a pile of Cheetos.

"Okay," I said, in my most soothing voice (and wondering where she’d found the Cheetos), "so you like him." Her cheeks flushed pink. "But – what? – you’re afraid to lose him, so you won’t date him in the first place?"

She didn’t answer, so I took her silence as implicit confirmation and let her off the hook. "Fine. We won’t talk about it anymore."

Lindsey and I didn’t talk about it anymore, but that didn’t stop Luc from sliding in comments here and there, or her from baiting him with suggestions of rebellion. And while I really liked Lindsey, and I was glad we were on the same team, I sympathized with Luc. The girl had a sharp-edged wit, and it couldn’t have been easy for him to be constantly on the receiving end of it. Sarcasm between friends is all well and good, but she risked tipping the balance toward meanness.

On the other hand, that biting sarcasm came in handy, since Amber and Gabrielle had teamed up to flaunt Amber’s relationship with Ethan in my face. This time, we’d finished up our meal and were on our way back through the first floor to the stairs when they stopped in front of us.

"Hon," Gabrielle asked Amber, inspecting her nails while blocking the stairway. "You wanna grab a drink tonight?"

Amber, dressed in a black velour tracksuit with BITE ME written across the front in red letters, glanced up at me. "Can’t. I have plans with Ethan tonight, and you know, darling" – she lifted an auburn brow – "how demanding he can be."

I wanted to gag, right after raking my nails through that tacky velour, but was flustered enough by the message – and the fact that I’d seen Ethan take her up on the offer, slutty as it was – not to think of a quick retort.