Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires 5)

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Hot," I got out before grabbing my glass of water and finishing half of it in a single gulp. "That's a two?" I hoarsely asked. "That is insane."

"And you wanted a seven," Jonah nonchalantly said, eating his plate of noodles like it had been doused in nothing more than soy sauce.

"How can you possibly eat that?"

"I'm used to it."

I took another bite and chewed quickly, barely enjoying the flavor, mostly trying to choke it down before the spice caught up with me.

The waitress approached again, a carafe of water in hand. She refil ed Jonah's glass, then glanced at me.

"Two?"

"Stil too hot," I admitted, chugging down another half glass of water. "What's in it? Thai peppers?"

Shrugging, the waitress refil ed my glass again. "Cook grows them in her yard. Very hot."

"Very, very hot," I agreed. "Do people actual y order the ten?"

"Longtime customers," she said. "Or on dare."

With that pronouncement, she toddled away with her now-empty carafe.

I looked at Jonah with spice-spawned tears in my eyes.

"Thank you for not daring me to eat the ten."

"It wouldn't have been right," Jonah said, shoveling noodles into his mouth. A thin line of sweat appeared on his forehead, and he'd begun to sniff.

"I thought the heat didn't get to you?" I asked with a self-satisfied smile.

He wiped at his brow with the back of a hand, then grinned up at me. "I didn't say it wasn't hot. I just said I was used to it. Immortality's hardly worth the trouble if there's no chal enge."

I wasn't positive, but I had a sinking suspicion he wasn't talking about the food. I took another bite, and focused on the burning sting.

"Tel me about Ethan."

Startled, I looked over at Jonah. "Excuse me?"

Nonchalantly, he shrugged and swal owed another knot of noodles. "You told me you weren't together K'ont. That may be true, but I don't get the sense it's the entire story."

I watched him for a moment, smiling as he chewed, as I decided what to tel him. My time with Ethan had been tempestuous. More stops than starts, and those stops had been traumatic. Ethan was gone before the relationship had had a chance to blossom, but that didn't make the grief any easier to bear - or explain.

"We had moments together," I said. "We weren't quite a couple - although I think we might have been if he hadn't . . ." I couldn't make myself finish the sentence.

"If Celina hadn't done what she'd done," Jonah finished kindly.

I nodded.

"He meant a lot to you."

I nodded again. "He did."

"Thank you for tel ing me," he said.

He let the subject drop, but I stil had the sense he was asking something more. And his subtlety didn't make the rest of our dinner any less awkward. I kept the conversation moving (and light) until we paid and headed back to our cars. That's when he got to the heart of it.

"You had feelings for Ethan," he said. "You were close and that affected your perception of the Red Guard. But you know now the GP isn't always on the side of the good and the just. Grey House knows who's in the wrong about Celina, and about Ethan's death. The GP should have supported what you were doing in Chicago, and instead of offering help when V surfaced, they ignored it and blamed you for the aftermath. The RG's argument isn't with the Houses; it's with the GP."

"I swore an oath."

"Working with us to ensure the GP doesn't tear your House apart supports that oath."

I considered the argument in silence. He had a point; the GP was no friend to Cadogan House. On the other hand, wasn't joining the Red Guard stil a slap in Malik's face? An agreement to work behind his back even if supposedly for the "greater good."

"Why?" I wondered.

He frowned. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why do you want me to join the RG? What's the benefit?

We already know the GP is self-centered and more focused on perception than real work. They leave the hard stuff to us and stil blame us after the fact, so what's the point? Membership doesn't change anything, except risking that we'l be nailed to the wal if they find out."

"We?"

I looked back at him, and wasn't thril ed by the self-satisfied grin that was overtaking his expression.

"You said 'we,' " he pointed out.

"It was a turn of phrase. You know what I meant." I tried to keep my tone nonchalant, but he had a point. Jonah and I were working together - had been working together - to keep the Houses safe. Was I already implicitly a member?

"No, Merit, I don't know that," he countered. "I know you just confessed you already consider yourself to be doing the work of the RG." He stepped in front of me and looked down. "You want to know why you should join? Because for the first time in your life, you'd have a partner. You'd have someone on your side, at your beck and cal , ready to serve and assist you in whatever the assignment might be."

He was wrong about that. W Kabody to shen Ethan was alive, I'd had a partner.

"I'm already working with you," I pointed out.

"You have me because you don't have a better option. If Ethan was stil here, or if there was an extra guard in your House, you'd go that route."

I couldn't disagree with him there.

"But here's the real kicker," he said. "For the first time in your life, you'd be offered the choice. You were dragged unconscious into Cadogan House. You were appointed Sentinel with no say in the matter."

He tipped his head down, his lips nearly brushing my ear.

The move was intimate, but it didn't feel sexual. Jonah wasn't attempting to break through my defenses - he was demonstrating how close we'd already become. "You'd be making the choice to serve."

He was right. I hadn't had the choice then, but he was giving me the choice now. I could admit it was a powerful argument.

He apparently knew that, too, because without another word, he stood straight again and walked away.

"That's it?"

He glanced back. "That's it. This cal , Merit, is al yours."

As he got into his car and drove away, I blew out a breath. To RG or not to RG, that was the question.

Since the lake was stil dark and unmoving, I wasn't excited about the report I'd have to give Kel ey back at the House.

But at least we had a plan, and if anyone in Chicago could corral a helicopter, my grandfather could.

When I pul ed up to the House, the protestors were louder and larger in number, their signs promising even more hel fire and damnation than usual. "Apocalypse" and