Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) (23 page)

Dare, I would.

I pushed him backward, steering him toward the low French chair in the corner of the room. He sat down, his hand still busy, his eyes on my breasts.

I straddled him, and his lips found my breasts, toying and nipping until my blood burned with need.

He offered no more preliminaries, which would have been wasted. I was ready, my body eager for him. With a grunt and a brutal curse, he plunged upward, filling me, bowing my body and leaving no boundaries, tangible or otherwise, between us. His hands found my waist and he held me against him, forcing me down with each plundering stroke.

He put his hand on my face, holding my chin, forcing my gaze to his as he pumped. I wasn’t sure if he was committing my face to memory or ensuring that I committed his face to mine. The act was brutally intimate, allowing neither of us to hide behind closed eyes.

“Merit,” he said, his voice ragged. “I need you. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Forever,
he silently said.
Regardless.

Forever,
I said to him.

He lifted me, rose with me in his arms, and stalked toward the bedroom like a pirate with his treasure. He placed me on the bed like I was delicate, fine boned or porcelain, and immediately covered my body with his. With the force of a man long denied, he plunged between my thighs, his strokes as hard and fast as they’d been before.

Before, he’d sought to relieve his own ache, to find his own release. This time, his demands were all for me. Every muscle in his toned body worked for my pleasure, to send me over the edge, to send my mind and body and soul reeling. He found my mouth and plundered it as well, his tongue hot and welcoming, teeth at my lips as ferocious as his body.

And then he flipped my body over, and I moaned with pleasure, fistfuls of sheets in hand as he thrust without hesitation, filling me, devouring me. Ethan took without quarter, gave without pretension. He moved with a harsh rhythm, demanding, insistent, daring me to take my own pleasure, and doing his damnedest to send me there.

I screamed out his name, felt the building shudder from the release of magic, pushed any embarrassment that might have caused to the back of my mind.

I paused for breath, wet my parched lips, then rolled over and looked at him. His eyes quicksilver, his body hard, quivering with want.

I cupped my breasts, offered myself to him again.

His lips curled in animal pleasure and he pushed between my thighs again, my body offering no resistance.

“Teeth,” he demanded when he was inside me. “I want your teeth on me.”

Drunk with passion, I obeyed the command, sinking my teeth into the skin at his neck, the rush of blood—hot and powerful—sending my body into immediate overdrive. Ethan growled out my name as my body shook with the force of the pleasure, and he gripped the headboard with white knuckles, straining to hold back as pleasure rocked him, too.

Now,
I demanded, forcing him to drop his own barriers, to hold back nothing from me, not the man, not the soldier, not the vampire, not the Master.

“Merit,” Ethan groaned out, pushing upward with a final thrust, emptying himself with a cry that sounded equally anguished and fulfilled at the same time my body arched with pulsing pleasure.

•   •   •

Minutes later, we stood together beneath the spray in the room-sized shower in the carriage house bathroom, his body behind mine.

It was such a simple thing for him to massage shampoo into my hair, to slick soap across my back. And it was probably the most intimate thing we’d ever done.

“Switch,” I told him when my hair was squeaky clean. He dunked his head beneath the spray, pushed his fingers through it while water slipped down the arch of his back and across his very bitable ass.

I felt my body stir to life again but ignored it. I’d had my fun for the evening. We were getting clean, and then we were getting back to work.

I squeezed shampoo into my hand, rolled it in my palms, and reached up to run it through the golden locks of his hair. He dropped his head back, braced his arms on the sides of the shower, and let me care for him.

And when the shower was done, when we pulled on the thick white robes that hung in the bathroom, I sent the message that, I hoped, satisfied my favor to Lakshmi:

I’VE TOLD HIM. THE DECISION IS IN HIS HANDS.

I hoped it would be enough and, when our phones began to simultaneously ring, thought she was so pissed by the response that she’d called me and Ethan both. But the communications weren’t from Lakshmi.

I grabbed mine first, scanned the screen, found a message from Luc:
NAVARRE 911. RAID. MAYOR’S THUGS. INJURIES.

“Merit,” Ethan said, and I glanced back, found his phone in hand, as well.

“Domestic terrorism?”

He nodded and called Luc, got an answer on the first ring.

“I’m outside Navarre with Lindsey,” Luc said, the wind howling behind him. It was Chicago, after all. “We’re out of sight but keeping an eye on things. Jonah’s got a few Grey House folks around, too.”

Probably not just Grey House, I thought, but members of the RG keeping an eye on things, ready to step in if the need arose. I wasn’t taking all their work.

“What happened?”

“We aren’t entirely sure. We only got a little from Will.” Will was Navarre House’s very green guard captain. “Apparently the mayor’s thugs showed up to take Morgan in to interview, and he refused. They surrounded the House, went inside. They’re still in there. The vampires are all outside.”

“Considering where we are, and the fact that we ran, I can’t exactly blame Morgan for refusing the interview. How’s Malik?”

“On full alert,” Luc said. “We pulled all the temps onto duty, have them outside. We’ve also offered asylum to any Navarre vamps who need a place to go.”

“Good,” Ethan said. “Good. Keep an eye on things, and make contact with Jonah. Offer whatever assistance you can provide. And in the meantime, call the lawyers. We’re coming home.”

Fear bloomed cold in my chest. Ethan hung up the phone, tossed it on the bed.

“You want to go back so you can be Kowalcyzk’s next victim?”

“Better me than them in my place,” Ethan said. “I can’t let any more vampires take my punishment. I’ve stood by too long.”

“She’s baiting you. Escalating to scare you back to Chicago.”

Ethan began to get dressed, pulling a shirt over his head, his hair still damp and tucked behind his ears. “Quite possibly.” He zipped up his jeans. “And I did as everyone asked. I waited her out. But no more.”

I hadn’t made Kowalcyzk’s decisions, but I still felt like I’d failed. If Harold Monmonth hadn’t made it so far into Cadogan House, if I’d taken him out first, if the GP had been more afraid of the House’s Sentinel, Ethan might be out of danger.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry for this.”

Ethan looked at me, danger in his eyes. “Are you under the impression this has something to do with you, Sentinel?”

“I was supposed to protect you, protect the House. And look where that’s gotten us. The mayor thinks we’re enemies of the state, and she’s not above beating a Master vampire. I should have killed Harold Monmonth when I’d had the chance.”

He strode to me, took my chin in hand, forced my gaze to his.

“That woman’s personal failures are not your responsibility. Nor would the death of Harold Monmonth by your hand have changed anything. Except that it would be you heading to prison, rather than me.”

“My father could have kept me out.”

Ethan’s eyes cooled. “Perhaps. Perhaps he would have. Perhaps he’d have bribed Kowalcyzk to keep you out. And if he had? And assuming she’d actually accept it, he’d consider the bribe a loan, and he’d exact payback, come hell or high water. You’ve owed a favor to a very powerful individual, Merit. You know how oppressive that feels.”

He was right, but that only made it worse. There was no knight in shining armor who could rescue him, no trick of Chicago politics—and there were a lot of tricks in that particular bag—that would keep him out of prison. We’d already used the chit in our possession, the fact that Detective Jacobs didn’t blindly follow the mayor’s dictates, and the reprieve had been only temporary.

I nodded. “I know you’re right. I just want things to be different.”

He put his forehead against mine. “We cannot change the world, Merit. We do what we can in our small corner, and we act with honor. We rise to the occasion, and we do our best.”

He kissed me. “That is what we will do for now. Our best. Get dressed. Message Catcher and make sure he knows what’s going on. Message Jonah and let him know we’re coming back. I’ll talk to Gabriel. This is going to require some finessing.”

I nodded. “I’ll pack, get our stuff together.”

He looked at me, considered. “Actually, I think I’d prefer you go with me. You are his kitten, after all.”

I humphed. I was nobody’s kitten.

•   •   •

We found him in the kitchen with Tanya and Connor, who sat in a high chair with bright orange goo smeared across his face. He gargled happily when we walked in.

“Vampires,” Gabe said, offering Connor another spoonful of orange goo. “What brings you by?”

“Are you hungry?” Tanya asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. “The staff’s asleep, but we could find you something.”

“We’re good, thank you. We actually wanted to talk to you about leaving. Things have come to a head in Chicago—and we believe the carnival is headed there anyway. We’d like to return, as well.”

“A head?” Gabe asked.

“The mayor had roughed up Scott Grey. Tonight, they raided Navarre House.”

“She’s not playing around to get you back.”

“No, she is not. And others have taken the brunt of this particular experiment long enough.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah, running isn’t really your style.” He smiled at Connor, who mawed the mouthful of goo with bright and happy eyes. “Kid loves carrots. Craziest thing. Tanya and I both hate them.”

He used the rubber edge of the spoon to clean up Connor’s mouth, then passed the utensil to Tanya and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel.

“The Pack is gone,” he said. “You upheld your deal to investigate while they were here. And when the elves were attacked in daylight, they knew it wasn’t your doing. The Brecks haven’t left, obviously, but solving a mystery isn’t going to change their minds about you.”

“No,” Ethan said. “I imagine it will not.”

“And you still have the elves to sate,” Gabriel said. “You owe them Niera, or we’ll all have hell to pay.”

I imagined Chicago overrun with androgynous bow-and-arrow-wielding elves. Considering the state of their technology, couldn’t the military handle them easily?

Ethan looked at me. “I know what you’re thinking, Sentinel. That they’d be no match for black helicopters. But locusts do not need weapons to constitute a plague. They only have to be themselves.”

A potent metaphor.

“Safe travels and good luck,” Gabriel said, standing and offering each of us a hand. “You do your species proud.”

“Call me the next time you’re in the city,” Ethan said, then slid his gaze to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Gabriel smiled wolfishly. “So we do, Sullivan. So we do.”

•   •   •

I let Ethan drive back to Chicago. Considering his looming incarceration, it seemed only fair.

I also let him select the channel, and he found a station playing hard-driving Chicago- and Delta-style blues. The songs were grim, their lyrics telling tales of love and love lost, of heartache and adversity. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his gaze on the road, but he seemed buoyed by the music, by the reminders that hard times were universal, but time always marched on. Usually in twelve bars.

Ethan pulled directly into the House garage and parked the car in the spot he’d given me—but solely for the protection of Moneypenny. Ethan keyed us into the House but paused before ascending the stairway to the first floor, clearly contemplating what he was about to do.

“Maybe we should take the back stairway,” I suggested. “We can put down our bags, and you can have a few minutes to collect yourself.”

He looked back at me, smiled. I caught a brief flicker of gratitude in his eyes, as if he’d had the same thought but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without appearing cowardly.

We walked to the other end of the basement and the service stairway, climbed to the third floor, and then walked down the hallway to our apartments. The House smelled faintly like cinnamon and flowers, and none of the faint animal tang that permeated the Brecks’.

We found the apartments just as we’d left them. Cool, dark, beautifully appointed. The furniture was European, the ceilings high, the walls painted in warm colors. A vase of hothouse peonies sat on a side table, filling the room with the smell of flowers and the spring that would soon be approaching.

Ethan put his bag on the bed and walked to one of the windows, then pulled back the lush silk and velvet drapes that covered it. I dropped my bag and followed him, let him gather me into his arms as he stared out into the night. Unlike at the Brecks’ estate, there was light aplenty in Chicago. We were in the middle of a residential neighborhood, with the lights of downtown in the distance. Snow still covered the grounds that surrounded the House, giving it an ethereal glow.

Ethan sighed, embraced me tighter.

“She can’t hold you forever. There’s no evidence.”

“She
shouldn’t
,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t try. Especially if she’s squawking about domestic terrorism and ignoring the city’s other problems in the meantime.”

“As long as she doesn’t mess up your pretty face.”

Ethan leaned back and peered at me. “My pretty face?”

“I’m dating you because you make good arm candy.”

He made a dubious sound, squeezed me one more time, and then let me go. “We have the city’s best lawyers,” he said. “We’ll hope that will be enough.”

I hoped he was right, but hope wasn’t going to bring him home again.

PARTING IS SUCH (BITTER)SWEET SORROW

E
than changed from his jeans and shirt into a button-down shirt, black pants, and a suit jacket with modern lines and a fashionably snug fit. He pulled back his hair, then glanced at me.

“You’re incredibly handsome for a felon and terrorist,” I told him, hoping to get a smile. I got an arched eyebrow, which was good enough.

We descended the stairs together, fingers linked. The foyer was full of vampires, and I had a sudden sympathy for the wives of discredited politicians who’d made similar appearances, trying to maintain a pleasant smile while lawyers and vampires mingled at the bottom of the stairs like sharks preparing to feed.

The magic in the air was frazzled and nervous, flitting about the room like stinging bolts of lightning. Ethan’s vampires were nervous, and understandably so.

“Andrew,” Ethan said, extending a hand to the man in the very well-cut black suit who stood beside Malik and Luc. He had dark skin, short hair, and a French-cut goatee that joined the moustache above his lip. His eyes were dark and set beneath a dark brow. His expression was serious.

“Ethan,” he said, and they shook hands heartily. “You’re ready?”

Ethan nodded, put a hand at the small of my back. “Andrew, my significant other. Merit. She stands Sentinel for the House. Merit, this is Andrew Bailey of Fitzhugh and Meyers.”

Andrew and I shook hands as he gave me an efficient appraisal. “A pleasure to meet you, although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Same here,” I said.

He glanced at Ethan. “Why don’t we talk for a few minutes? I’d like to explain how this will proceed.”

“My office,” Ethan said, then glanced back at the other vampires in the foyer, who’d gathered a second time in just a few days to ensure his safety and see him off.

“I won’t leave without saying good-bye,” Ethan said with a smile, which made them chuckle in relief. “We’ll discuss the details and be back shortly.”

Ethan shined in times of crisis. He knew when others needed him to be strong, and he filled that role with aplomb.

I followed Ethan, Andrew, Luc, and Malik to the office, squeezing Lindsey’s hand as we passed her on the way.

“Glad you got home safely,” she whispered, and I nodded.

The décor in Ethan’s office matched the rest of the House. European furniture, careful accessories, built-in shelves of beautiful wood, and vases of flowers. His desk filled the front right side of the room, a conversation area the left. There was a conference table across the back.

Luc headed directly for the bar tucked into the built-in bookshelves on the far side and poured amber liquor into a short glass. He downed it immediately.

“Rough week, Lucas?” Ethan asked with a smirk.

“Yes,” Luc said, drinking another finger of Scotch before putting the bottle away again.

“Navarre’s status?” Ethan asked.

“The vampires are back in the House, but they’re basically under House arrest. Grey took in six vampires—folks who were away when the raid happened and didn’t want to go back.”

Ethan looked at Andrew. “They’ll release Navarre House if I go in? And please take a seat, or have a drink if you’d like. The bar is open.”

“I’m fine, and I’d rather stand if you don’t mind.”

Ethan nodded, and we all stayed standing. This didn’t seem like the time to get comfy on the couch. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to relax.

“To your question, yes: Kowalcyzk’s representatives have advised the units will have no further interest in Navarre if you go in.”

I guess that confirmed Kowalcyzk’s extortion.

“We’re communicating with Navarre’s lawyers, so we can ensure she actually keeps her promise. They’re relieved that you’re here.”

“Understandable,” Ethan said. “And when I go in?”

“You’ll be interviewed about the death of Harold Monmonth,” Andrew said. “But not by the CPD. They still have a warrant for your arrest, but the mayor is using her domestic terrorism task force to conduct these interviews. That takes them outside the purview of the CPD, which is unfortunate, as I understand you have allies there.”

“Some,” Ethan said. “Although likely enemies as well.”

Andrew nodded. “The firm has contacts in Homeland Security, and I’ve contacted them, requested they make contact with the mayor’s office, provide some oversight. I don’t know how far that will go, but I prefer to have the protections in place rather than leaving an ambitious politician with no evidence and less foresight in charge.”

“Our opinions align,” Ethan said.

“The interview will take place at the Daley Center,” Andrew continued. That building held the city and county offices. “I won’t be in the interview room with you—no right to a lawyer as a suspected domestic terrorist—but I’ve arranged for the room to have two-way glass. I’ll be outside. They’ll keep you there until they’re satisfied they’ve gotten the answers they want, even if it means the sun’s in the sky.”

“They have a dark room?” Malik asked.

“They do. They understand you’re essentially unconscious, not by choice, when the sun comes up. They’ve arranged for a room without windows so you can bed down. And the interview room doesn’t have windows, either, just in case they decide to get creative around sunrise.”

We were capable of being conscious during the day, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I’d been kept forcibly awake once and preferred not to repeat it.

I started to speak, found my voice trembled, and started again. “And if they assault Ethan?”

Andrew leveled dark eyes at me. “Then we take the city for everything they’re worth, and we have evidence to expose Chicago for the tragedy that’s occurring here.”

We looked at each other for a moment. He was giving me, I realized, time to consider him, to evaluate him, to trust that he would care for Ethan as I did. I wasn’t eager to give Ethan up to anyone, but I was immediately glad he had this man in his corner.

I nodded, breaking the spell and offering my trust. “How long will they hold him?”

“Under current law, until they’re satisfied he isn’t a threat. There’s an obvious self-defense argument here, especially considering Monmonth’s violence against the humans before he even got inside the gate. And we have the security video of all the above, although Kowalcyzk’s office has rejected it.” The flat tone of his voice left little doubt about how much he respected that particular decision.

“We’ll push to get him released after twenty-four hours,” he said. “And the entire firm is on call, so if the House needs anything, wants an update, they can contact us. I think that’s everything for now, unless you have other questions?”

Ethan blew out a breath, shook his head, stiffened his shoulders. “I believe that’s it.” He looked at Malik. “Lakshmi?”

“Still standing by,” Malik said. “Considering her willingness to delay presenting the GP’s demands, I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve actually made any.”

I worked studiously to avoid looking at Ethan, afraid my expression would give something away. I hadn’t actually told him that Lakshmi was the vampire to whom I’d owed a favor, or the one who supported him, but it probably wouldn’t be difficult for him to ferret that out. Especially if he could read it in my face.

“I’ve no doubt she has her own agenda,” Ethan said. “But there seems little doubt she’s also here as an envoy. If they hadn’t sent her, they’d have sent someone else.” He frowned, scratched his temple absently, glanced at Malik.

“If she gets impatient, meet with her. Better to give her a meeting of some type than have her declaring war.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else?” Ethan asked, glancing around, but no one said anything. “In that case, Malik, you have the House,” he said. As often happened, something quiet passed between them, a ceremonial transfer of power, or perhaps a quick, silent prayer for the safety of themselves, the House, and the Novitiates who dwelled within it.

Ethan buttoned his suit jacket, adjusted his pocket square. “I believe we’re ready.”

Ethan emerged from the room as he had three days ago, to nervous looks of vampires waiting outside his office. Last time he was running from the very thing he’d committed to do tonight.

He took my hand in his, and together we walked down the hallway, Cadogan’s vampires sharing their support.

“We love you, Liege,” they said as we passed.

“You’ll get through this.”

“The House will get through this, Liege.”

They patted his back, touched his arm. Two offered embraces, then quickly stepped back into line. They’d lost him a few months ago and had miraculously gotten him back. They weren’t eager to give him up again.

When we reached the foyer, the crowd thinned to give him access to the front door. He squeezed my hand, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that filled my eyes.

“You’re ready?” Andrew asked, opening the door to escort him out.

“A moment,” Ethan said.

And there in the foyer, with half the House’s vampires looking on, he put his hands on my face, and he kissed me. The kiss was soft but insistent. Ethan Sullivan did not hesitate to demonstrate to the House exactly how he felt about me.

The magic in the room transmuted, became less about fear than hope. Somehow, because they’d seen Ethan kiss me, they calmed. Perhaps because of the reminder that he had every incentive to come back healthy and whole.

After a moment he pulled back, his hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking my jaw.

Be careful, Sentinel,
he silently said. The kiss had been for the House; the words were just for us.
Guard Malik, the House, yourself.

You be careful, too.

I’ve every intention of it,
he said with a smile. He pressed another kiss to my lips—softer, sweeter—before releasing me and walking toward the door.

There, with his hand on the frame, he turned back and faced his vampires.

“What happens outside these doors is not relevant,” he said. “It is how you respond to them, how you move forward, that reveals your character.

“You are Cadogan vampires. You are honorable, brave . . . and more stylish than most.” He got the chuckle he’d undoubtedly wanted. “To that end, and to remind you who you are, we have something to share.”

Malik walked forward with a box in hand, one that I recognized from our apartments. He opened it, pulled out a silver pendant on a chain, which gleamed like quicksilver beneath the foyer chandelier. Our previous House medals, circular disks inscribed with our positions and the House’s GP registration number, were outdated since we’d ditched the GP. These pendants, silver droplets with the House’s name and our positions etched into the back, would be the new reminders of our vampiric family.

There were sparks of excitement in the hallway.

“We’d hoped our provision of these medals would be in a slightly more formal occasion,” Ethan said. “But it is the symbol that matters, not the pomp and circumstance.”

Ethan leaned forward, and Malik clasped the first pendant around Ethan’s neck, which shined like a droplet of silver blood at the base of his throat. There was something nearly sensuous about the curve of it and the way it settled perfectly there.

Helen, the House’s den mother, appeared at Ethan’s side in her typical tweed suit, a basket of small crimson jewelry boxes on her arm. She began handing out the boxes to the Novitiates in the foyer.

“Be strong,” Ethan said, glancing across the room and meeting my gaze with a short and decisive nod. “I’ll be back soon enough.” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed, disappearing from view.

Fear tightened my chest.

Lindsey stepped beside me, put an arm around my waist. Luc took point at my other side.

“He’ll come through this,” Luc assured me. “He’s a soldier. He is trained and can endure much.”

“I don’t want him to endure anything. I don’t want his life, his well-being, to be fodder for someone else’s political career.”
Keep him safe,
I thought, pleading to the universe and whatever gods inhabited it.
Please keep him safe.

“We know you don’t,” Luc said, patting my back tenderly and a little awkwardly. “But he is Master of this House, and he does what he must to protect it. It’s the life he chose to lead.”

“Because he can handle it,” Lindsey said.

“He definitely can. There are stories I could tell you.”

“Your stories are always disgusting,” Lindsey said, reaching around me to poke him in the shoulder. “And they usually involve bordellos. I don’t think that’s really going to help Merit.”

It actually did help Merit, and I chuckled a little in spite of myself. “Bordellos? Really?”

“Chicago had its share once upon a time,” Luc said with a shit-eating grin that earned an eye roll from Lindsey. “There was this one, Ruby Red’s. Every single girl was a redhead, natural or otherwise.”

I held up a hand. “I don’t need the specifics. I just want Ethan to be okay.”

Luc looked earnestly at me. “Merit, of all the vampires in the world, who else is stubborn and pretentious enough to stand up to a self-righteous prig like Diane Kowalcyzk?”