Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

“Sire?” she crisply said.

“Prepare the guest suite, if you would. Mallory and Catcher will be staying with us for a few days.”

Helen kept her gaze on Ethan, but she pressed her lips together in obvious disagreement with his choice. “They will.”

“They will,” Ethan said, in a tone that clarified the issue wasn’t up for debate. Realizing that, she nodded, moved into the hallway again to make preparations.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” Mallory said.

“Actually, I don’t mind causing it,” Catcher said. “Vampires have caused plenty of their own. What are the chances of getting an off-street parking space?”

Ethan just looked at him. Off-street parking in Chicago was a very serious matter. “That would require some maneuvering.”

They looked at each other in heavy silence.

“How much?” Catcher asked.

Ethan smiled slyly. “A ward on the House to keep Balthasar out, constructed and managed by you.”

“You’re a sneaky bastard, Sullivan,” Catcher said, and nodded.

Not a bad deal for good parking.

*   *   *

While Helen prepared their rooms and Luc prepared their security access, Mallory and Catcher returned to their Wicker Park town house to grab clothing and essentials for Vampire Sleepover Camp. They’d return after the sun was up, but the human guards at the gate could get them inside. They’d set the wards, and we’d all enjoy a good night’s sleep.

Vampires were unconscious during the daylight; theoretically, Balthasar would be, too. But he was conniving, and I wouldn’t put a daylight attack past him. Catcher and Mallory being here—setting a ward, and being able to emerge in daylight if the need arose—made me feel a lot better.

I was often relieved at the end of a night to return to our apartments on the third floor, the Master’s suite that Ethan and I shared. But nights like this made the respite even more important. We could be ourselves, for ourselves.

Just like the rest of Cadogan House, our rooms were as lushly appointed. Thick rugs, demure colors, French fabrics, gorgeous antiques. Tonight, it smelled of lilacs, and Margot, the House chef, had placed a horn and silver tray on a side table with cups of hot chocolate, fruit, and the tiniest sandwiches I’d ever seen.

As I’d mentioned to Catcher, Cadogan-style immortality had its benefits. And because silliness in the face of danger was one of them, I ate a small square of brown bread and what looked like smoked salmon while pretending I was a giant. Wearing Cubs pajamas.

“How many academic degrees do you have?” Ethan asked, walking out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, scrubbing a second through his hair.

“Two and a half,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy comically tiny foods.” I held up a wee croissant. “Odds are good she assembled this tray for the comic appeal.”

Ethan rolled his eyes good-humoredly before tossing the towel in his hand back into the bathroom, dropping the second onto the floor.

That left him naked—all hard planes and ridges of muscle, including a very impressive erection that left little doubt about his current line of thought. The seductive drowsiness in his eyes, part desire and part nearing sunrise, confirmed it . . . and enhanced the allure.

I dropped the pastry back on the tray, my appetite now shifted to something entirely different. “You are a gorgeous specimen of a man.”

“Am I?” he asked, but when I crooked my finger in beckoning, he stalked toward me like a cat, muscles in his thighs and abdomen tightening, shifting as he moved. There was nothing about him that wasn’t perfectly sculpted. Whether caused by the vampire mutation or his Swedish genetics, the result was undeniably tempting.

“You are,” I said, and slid a hand down the flat of his abdomen, the muscle hard as steel beneath my hand. “And since you became Master of the universe, we haven’t really had time to explore your various peaks and valleys.”

“Colorado was a bit of a bust,” Ethan agreed. He put a hand on my waist, leaned forward to nuzzle my neck, teeth just catching my earlobe. “Exploration sounds like a beautiful way to spend the last minutes before sunrise.”

I closed my eyes, smiled, and tilted my head to improve his access . . . until my phone began to ring.

Since Ethan growled, I guessed I wasn’t the only one frustrated. “I’ll pay you not to answer that.”

“It could be about Balthasar. I have to at least see who it is.” I grabbed my phone from the side table, checked the screen, and found an equally unwelcome caller.

It was late for vampires, but early for humans, including my father, Joshua Merit, king of Chicago real estate.