Twice Bitten (Chicagoland Vampires 3)

"Nadia, this is Merit, my Sentinel," he said, gesturing at me. Nadia beamed at me, then held out both hands.

"Merit," she intoned, leaning in to kiss my cheek, as well.

"It is lovely to meet you." Her voice carried the faintest French accent, and her perfume was exotic.

Equally complex and old-fashioned, like something you'd pick up in a boutique in a forgotten Parisian arrondissement. It sang of flowers and lemon and rich spice and sunlight, all bottled together.

"My liege is in his office, if you'll follow me?"

Ethan nodded and fell in line behind Nadia, who trotted back up the stairs, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she moved. Really - it was like watching a shampoo commercial. At the top of the staircase, we turned to the left, then took a wide marble hallway another twenty or thirty feet. The door was open.

I blew out a breath and readied myself for drama.

CHAPTER TEN

MY (EX-)BOYFRIEND'S BACK

Morgan's office was a wide rectangular room that overlooked Navarre House's back courtyard, a small but well-tended space that must have been wedged into the notch between the buildings on the block.

The entire back wall was a sheet of glass, the garden below well lit to provide the Master a view of the space - and to provide any Navarre vampires in the space a view of their Master. It was definitely Celina's kind of architecture, her office a stage for the audience of vampires in the garden below.

Tall panels of crimson silk hung at each end of the window, probably to be drawn forward during the daylight hours. The rest of the office was sleek and modern and much less feminine. At one end of the room sat a glass desk, upon which perched a white computer and an array of white desk accessories.

Two ultramodern black and steel chairs sat in front of it, and a seating area of modern furniture my parents would probably have liked - good lines, but not very comfortable looking - sat at the other end of the room. The office was virtually empty of knickknacks, books, and collectibles. I wasn't sure if that was in deference to the modern design, or simply because Morgan, who was only about seventy years old, hadn't had time to collect much. The Master vampire himself stood with his back to the door, facing the glass. Nadia said softly, respectfully, "Liege. The entourage from Cadogan House." He glanced back over his shoulder.

His dark hair seemed to have grown inches since I'd last seen him, even though that had been only a week ago. It waved around his deep-set, dark blue eyes and the long, dark brows that topped them.

There were plenty of handsome men in the world, and plenty of men with lovely eyes. But Morgan's were different. Bedroomy, I'd called them, because his gaze seemed to sink into you, inviting you, tempting you, with its depth. That gaze skimmed Nadia, then darkened when he saw Ethan and clouded completely when he saw me. Morgan had a dramatic personality, but he shuttered the expressions in his face - anger, betrayal, sadness - fast enough. Maybe he was taking to Masterdom after all. He turned around. "Thank you, Nadia," he said, and Nadia nodded and left the room. From her deferential reactions, I was getting the sense that Navarre's Master occupied a different kind of position than Cadogan's Master. Or maybe the deference was just part of being second to a Master vampire - being acquiescent until the crown was handed to you. Malik, after all, generally seemed to defer to Ethan. And speaking of, Ethan, crown firmly in hand, offered his opening gambit. "Merit has had no contact with Nicholas Breckenridge regarding the story. No contact at all, in fact, since the incident." Morgan looked at me. "True?"

I nodded.

He walked toward his desk, then took a seat. Ethan gestured toward the bank of windows. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Morgan said crisply. They switched places, which still left me standing between them.

Poetic, I thought.

"You know that Gabriel visited us after the blackmail was cleared up?" Ethan asked, his gaze on the courtyard below.

"I do now. I also know, thanks to the Sun-Times, that you and Merit apparently paid a visit to a bar in Ukrainian Village. Would you care to enlighten me?" Ethan turned around, arms crossed over his chest. I guessed he hadn't been keeping Morgan up-to-date on our shifter interactions. Not that that was a surprise; he tended to keep details to himself.

"Gabriel asked that we be present at a pre-meeting of the alphas. We obliged." Morgan sat back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. "Why did he want you there?"

"Security, most fundamentally. He also wanted vampires to be present, individuals who could remind the shifters of the purpose of the convocation."

"Mmm-hmm," Morgan said, then lifted up a folded copy of the Sun-Times. "It appears you didn't make the best security."

Ethan's jaw clenched. "The attack was external. One of the Pack leaders walked out. Shots were fired at the bar a few minutes later. It's possible those two things are connected, but Gabriel seems to have doubts. They're investigating." Ethan paused and looked down, as if contemplating how much to tell Morgan. Ethan, I knew, had his doubts about Morgan's temperament, about his ability to stay calm and make the kind of difficult political decisions that needed to be made.

I glanced over at Morgan and found his furrowed stare on me, his head tilted to the side. He could have spoken with me silently; although only a Novitiate and the Master who made her were supposed to have the ability to speak telepathically, Morgan and I had made that connection when he'd challenged Ethan for an imagined slight against Celina. Maybe he didn't want to speak. . . . He just had his own puzzles to ferret out. Morgan's gaze suddenly snapped back to Ethan. "So the wolves invited the sheep into their den." He waved the paper in the air. "I'll skip the lecture about the need to keep all of Chicago's Masters informed, Ethan, since I doubt it would make much difference." Score one for the newbie Master, I thought, even if he was right - and therefore out of luck. A lecture from Morgan wasn't going to stop Ethan from holding back information about his strategy.

"If we help them," Ethan said, exhaustion in his voice - probably since he wasn't used to having his decisions questioned by those of equal rank - "which we will, we show our willingness to act as a unified supernatural community. We do a favor, and we, perhaps, get a favor in return."

"If they actually needed you for security," Morgan said, "you might have a point. But shifters can take care of their own. Two vamps with swords won't change that, even if they dress her up in slutty leather." I had to work to keep the anger off my face. Ethan could certainly be cold, but Morgan could be downright obnoxious.