Hard Bitten (32 page)

“Then we didn’t have this conversation, but the Chicago Houses agreed to quietly deal with the problem as it exists.”

Scott and Ethan looked at each other until Scott extended a hand. Ethan shook it, the deal struck.

Scott gestured toward his office. “I’m going to have a chat with my guards for a moment. I assume Darius will want to speak with us before you leave.”

“We’ll wait here,” Ethan agreed.

“I think Luc was right,” he added when they were out of earshot. “I can hardly take you out anymore.”

“I just took out a vamp twice my weight while wearing a cocktail dress and three-inch heels. I think I deserve some credit for that.”

“Is that so?” he asked.

That’s when I first felt it—that rumble of warning from somewhere deep in my bones, telling me something wasn’t right. But I ignored it and challenged him anyway.

“Yes,” I baldly said. “You’re fortunate I was there to help.”

“Fortunate? I believe I bested my own foe, Merit. Perhaps you should thank me for my assistance.” He raked his gaze up and down my body. “I’m sure I can suggest some small measure of gratitude.”

The blood began to pound in my ears, my skin prickling with sudden heat. I had no doubt my eyes were silver, but I didn’t care. I slipped a finger into one of the belt loops on his trousers and tugged him closer. “What did you have in mind?”

His eyes changed, his pupils mere pinpricks of black against the swirling quicksilver of his irises.

He began moving forward, pushing me backward, and he didn’t stop until my back was literally against the brick wall of the atrium.

Before I could object, his hands were on my face, his mouth against mine. His lips pulled at my mouth, kissing me hungrily, greedily.

In some satellite part of my brain, it occurred to me that it was odd that Ethan was kissing me in someone else’s House. And yet, even as I thought it was weird, my blood began to warm and boil with a heat I’d never experienced before. It itched beneath my skin, adrenaline pushing through my veins as if I were still midbattle with the Grey House vampires.

“Ethan,” I managed, calling his name in warning, even while I let him kiss me there in the middle of Grey House. He changed tactics and kissed me slowly, languorously, before finally opening his eyes and looking at me. There was an apology in his eyes.

“Something is . . . wrong.”

I nodded my head, knowing that he’d meant this wasn’t just love or lust, but a different kind of force, but the thought was distant, and the burning need was here and now.

It was
immediate
.

Intense.

I rolled my head to the side, my eyelids fluttering, the invitation overt.

“Do you need something from me?” His voice was low, more like the warning growl of a tiger than the question of a vampire.

I swallowed . . . and nodded. I felt like a teenager at a first dance. I didn’t know the music, wasn’t savvy to the steps, but the emotions were so basic, so fundamental, that it wasn’t possible to dance them incorrectly.

Ethan lifted a hand to my neck, the bare touch of his fingertips nearly buckling my knees. And before I could ask why he was apologizing, he kissed me. His kiss was firm, insistent, and questing. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around my back and deepening the kiss. His tongue explored as he pressed harder against me, the sudden length of his unmistakable erection pressing against my stomach.

I should have been shocked. Should have reminded him that this was neither the time nor the place, that we’d seen how bad things could get.

But with each possessive rumble in his throat, our own magics twined together. I was drawn in—by the magic, by the kiss, by the possessive bite of his fingers. I pulled him toward me, my fingers slipping into the belt loops on his trousers, and leaned up to deepen the kiss. I was as hungry for him as I’d ever been for blood, but this hunger was
now
. It was immediate, and it demanded to be sated.

Love was a dangerous drug.

Oh, God. That was it. Ethan wasn’t overpowered by love or lust or the sudden, romance-novel-esque realization that
He Had to
Have Me Now
. This was unprompted aggression, albeit of a slightly different variety than we’d seen before. . . .

“Ethan, I think we’ve been drugged.”

He ignored me, instead growling and tangling his fingers into my hair. My heart tripped, not out of lust this time, but out of fear, because the growl had changed, become meaner.

I switched tactics, giving him a telepathic order that I hoped would push through the haze of drugs to the part of his brain that was still functioning.
Ethan, stop.

He lifted his head, and I saw the conflict in his eyes. His brain ordered him to stop, but his body was propelling him forward—evidenced by his eyes. They were nearly all silver.

“What?” he asked.

“I think we’ve been drugged. Someone slipped us V. Maybe in the food?”

A wave of hot, itchy anger rushed through me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and my fingers into fists, pressing until the pain in my palms helped slow the spinning of my mind.

“The anger found a different outlet,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Perhaps a different dose.

Maybe in one of the meats?”

I shook my head. “The wine,” I answered. “I think it was in the wine. It had an odd taste.

Really, really bitter.”

“Who else drank the wine?”

I thought back. I’d had wine, as had Ethan.

And the only other person who’d had wine was Jonah. But I was saved the trouble of telling Ethan.

We both looked up as Jonah burst through the foliage in front of us. His eyes, already silver, became fierce as he stared Ethan down.

“It isn’t nice not to share.”

Ethan growled, low in his throat, a warning to Jonah. “I don’t share.”

Jonah clucked his tongue. “You should. Life is so much more interesting, don’t you think, when all of us get a taste?” I’d heard of girls being thrilled to be fought over before, but I didn’t like feeling like a piece of property.

“I’m no one’s to offer up,” I said.

“But you could do so much better,” was Jonah’s retort.

It’s just V,
I silently reminded Ethan.
He had
the wine, too.

“Regardless the cause, he’d best behave himself,” Ethan gritted out. He stared Jonah down, fangs bared. They were nearly the same height, close to the same build. Ethan was fairer than Jonah, but they’d have made equally matched opponents, if not for Ethan’s position, which surely would have reaped Jonah more trouble than the fight would have been worth.

“Jonah,” I warned, standing up, as well. “Back off.”

But instead of backing off, he bared his fangs at Ethan, hissing in warning that he’d found a prize and didn’t plan to give it up.

I wasn’t sure where the sudden interest had come from, but seriously doubted it had anything to do with me. More likely, Jonah had been drawn in by the magic that Ethan and I had spilled into the room. And in classic V fashion, he’d become unreasonably angry.

“Jonah, come on,” I urged. “You need to back off. You don’t want to fight a Master, especially not when Darius is here.”

My voice was pleading, and he threw me a glance. His brows were drawn together, as if he was trying to puzzle out exactly why he was standing in the atrium, ready to fight for a girl he’d only recently come to respect, much less actually like.

But Ethan apparently hadn’t noticed the self-reflection, and took a menacing step forward. “She is
mine
.”

Jonah shook off rationality and faced him down. “That decision is hers to make, and it doesn’t look like she’s made it yet.”

“She sure as fuck won’t be choosing you,”

Ethan growled out.

Jonah lifted his arm. My own instincts kicked in, protecting Ethan at the top of my list.

“
Step back
, Jonah,” I warned him, but he still hadn’t managed to push through the V. He cocked back to swing. I reached forward to pull him off, but he swung blindly out. As if time had slowed down, I watched his fist move toward me, a swat to push me away. He made contact.

The lights went out.

I
blinked and waited for the room to stop spinning. I was looking up at an industrial ceiling, the fronds of plants and ferns at the edges of my vision. Still Grey House, I guessed.

Green eyes appeared in my frame of vision.

“How’s your head?”

“Throbbing.”

I began to sit up, but Ethan put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been out for a few minutes.

Take it slow.”

“What happened?”

“You tried to keep Jonah from punching me, and he inadvertently nailed you.”

Now I remembered. I’d gotten in the way of Jonah and Ethan’s battle, and I’d ended up the worse for it.

Ethan held out a hand. “Give me your hand,”

he said, then slid his other one behind my back. I sat up, closing my eyes until the vertigo passed.

When I finally opened them again, Ethan tipped back my chin, gazing into my eyes. “Look to the left,” he said, and when I did, added, “And the right.” I did that, too.

“He rang my bell,” I said, touching a finger gingerly to the knot on the back of my head.

Given the speed of vampire healing, it wouldn’t last much longer, but for now, it smarted.

“Yes, he did,” Ethan agreed.

“Where is he?”

“Jonah? Scott’s got him locked down until he’s satisfied the drug’s worn off. It was the wine,”

Ethan added. “According to the Grey House vamps, they obtained the V from Benson’s, where they collegially shared it with a group of Rogues.”

“Undoubtedly in the name of inter-House cooperation,” I said dryly.

“I’m sure. The Grey House vamps also passed along that Darius would be dining here tonight.

They then managed to rile each other up about the injustices of the GP.”

“Probably an easy argument for Rogue vamps to make,” I observed. “Especially if they’re all on V.”

Ethan nodded. “They came back to the House intent on giving Darius a piece of their minds.

They also snuck into the kitchen with an extra dose and hit up the wine. They wanted him to experience the effects of being a true vampire.”

“Ironic that Darius didn’t drink any.”

“Very. Although he is now keenly aware of V’s effects.”

A long shadow appeared over me, and then an English voice spoke. “How is she?”

I glanced up. Darius stood at my side.

“She’ll make it,” Ethan concluded, “although I think bed rest would be a good way for her to spend the rest of the evening.”

“I think that’s a capital idea,” Darius agreed.

“A few pints of blood might also speed the healing.”

Ethan nodded. “And our investigation of V?”

“I’ve made the GP’s position clear.”

“Sire—,” Ethan began, but Darius silenced him with a hand.

“There is more to consider, Ethan, than the game you are playing with your mayor. You take care of your House; allow Mr. Grey and Mr.

Greer to take care of theirs. The rest is none of your concern, and that includes any current GP

members. Is that clear?”

Ethan’s jaw twitched, but he managed a nod.

“Of course, Sire.”

Darius nodded officially, then offered a weak smile for me. “Heal quickly, Merit,” he said, and then he was off again, Charlie stepping into line behind him.

“I’d like to go home,” I quietly said.

“The sentiment is definitely mutual,” Ethan said, his gaze still following his political master as he disappeared into the man-made jungle. “Let’s go home.”

Ethan insisted on carrying me to the car, which felt equal parts ridiculous and romantic. As a self-assured woman, it wasn’t exactly comfortable being carried like a child. On the other hand, Ethan had made me a vampire, and the link between us remained. The scent and feel of him was soothing, and I managed to enjoy being swept up in his arms, no matter how guilty the pleasure.

When we reached the House again, I protested enough that he let me walk back upstairs to my room, but he refused to let me leave it. While Ethan retrieved blood from the kitchen, I changed into yoga pants and a Cubs T-shirt and lay down on my bed, a pile of pillows behind my tender head.

Ethan returned carrying a giant plastic cup with a handle, the kind a trucker might buy to provide an all-day dose of caffeine for the road.

“Was that the smallest container you could find?”

“I prefer not to underestimate your potential for grumpiness,” he said, sitting down on the edge of my bed and offering the vessel.

I humphed, but accepted the cup and began to sip through the hard plastic straw stuck through its top. After a moment, I pulled back. “Is there chocolate sauce in the blood?”

His cheekbones pinked a bit. “Since you weren’t feeling well, I thought a little chocolate might do you good.”

Unfortunately, chocolate and blood weren’t a tasty combination. But he’d gone to such trouble that I couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

“Thank you,” I said, taking another heartening sip. “That was really thoughtful.”

He nodded, then sat quietly while I drank. I sipped until I felt the latent hunger ease, then put the cup on the nightstand beside me. I closed my eyes and sank back into the bed, my head against the backstop of pillows. As soon as I was still again, exhaustion overwhelmed me.

“I’m tired, Ethan.”

“It’s been another long evening,” he said.

But I shook my head—just a little, so my head didn’t throb with it. “It’s not just the concussion.

It’s the work. I wouldn’t want a cop’s job. I’m not entirely sure I want my job right now.”

“And miss all the fun and excitement? The chance to review security footage and fight drug-addled vampires?”

“Don’t forget about pissing off the head of the Greenwich Presidium.”

“Ah, yes. Who’d have thought, less than a year ago when you were grading papers, that your life would come to this?”

“Certainly not me,” I said. I opened my eyes again and looked over at him. “Are we going to finish this? Or are we going to do as he asked?”