Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires 1)

"You f**king son of a bitch." The words were tight, forced through his clenched jaw.

Ethan blinked, but made no other move, his stance still relaxed, confident. "Excuse me?"

"You think this is right? That you can do this?"

I flinched when Morgan lifted his arm, nearly pushed through the couple of vampires who separated Ethan and me, but held back when I saw the white paper he held in his hand. A small square of it, a black curve of handwriting across one side. Having seen something similar weeks before, I guessed what might be written on it.

Ethan probably knew, too, but bluffed. "I don't know what that is, Morgan."

Morgan fisted the note, held it in the air. "It's a f**king death threat - that's what it is. It was on Celina's bedside table. Her bedside . Table. She's scared to death." Morgan took a half step forward, uncurled the note, held it out for Ethan to read. Ethan gingerly took it between long fingers, his gaze traveling the length of the paper and back.

"It's a threat," Ethan announced to the crowd, his gaze still on Morgan. "Very similar to the one Merit received. I'd guess it's the same handwriting, the same paper. And it's purportedly signed by me."

The crowd rumbled. Morgan ignored it, lowered his voice to a fierce whisper that immediately quieted the crowd again.

"And that's f**king convenient, isn't it? Get Joshua Merit's daughter into the House, then take out Celina? Blame it on the Rogues, consolidate your power right under Tate's nose?" Morgan turned, surveyed the crowd, swinging out an arm dramatically. "And all of a sudden, the House that drinks is everyone's favorite."

The room went eerily quiet, and Ethan's frame finally stiffened. I watched the change in his posture, and my stomach sank as I feared, and faced, the worst - that Morgan had guessed correctly, and that Ethan was on the main quad that night for a very specific reason. That it wasn't "luck" at all.

Ethan leaned forward, eyes flaming green, and bit off, "Watch your words, Morgan, before you take steps Celina isn't ready to back up. Neither myself nor any other

Cadogan vampire is responsible for that note, for any violence or threats made against Celina or Merit." He lifted his head, looked at Noah, then Scott Grey, then out over the crowd. "Cadogan is not responsible for the death of Jennifer Porter, for the death of Patricia Long, for the notes, for the evidence, for any part of those crimes." He paused, let his gaze travel. "But if someone - some vampire - is responsible, be they Grey, or Rogue, or Navarre, and if information comes to light that any vampire or sect of vampires took part - any part - in these crimes, we will give that information to the police, human or not. And they will answer to me."

He glanced back at Morgan, gave him the withering Master-to-Peon look I knew he was capable of.

"And you'd better remember your place, your age, and where you're standing, Morgan of House Navarre."

"She's afraid for her life, Sullivan," Morgan said through clenched teeth, clearly unaffected by Ethan's threat. His jaw was set, his stance aggressive - feet planted, hands clenched into fists, chin tipped down just enough so that he glared at Ethan from beneath his brow. "I'm her Second, and that is unacceptable."

I sympathized, understood his frustration, knew Ethan would expect the same loyalty from Malik, if not the drama that made me wonder about the relationship between Celina Desaulniers and her Second. But I also knew Ethan wasn't involved. Maybe the Rogues had some involvement, maybe Grey House, undoubtedly some vampire with access to the Cadogan grounds. But Cadogan vampire would have, could have, murdered under his watch.

I looked across the anxious crowd, met Luc's eyes, got the nod that I knew signaled action. Just as Morgan cocked back a fist, I stepped forward, pushed through the remaining veil of vampires, whipped the sword from its scabbard, and stretched out my arm just so the tip of it lay before the pulse that throbbed in his neck.

I lifted a brow at him. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

The ballroom went silent.

His dark eyes followed the length of the sword, surveyed the leather. He took in the jacket, the pants, the boots, the high ponytail that held back my hair. If he hadn't been completely sobered by the steel, I think he'd have complimented the ensemble. But this was business, and I'd stepped into his fight.

Morgan lifted his chin incrementally above the blade. "Put down the sword."

"I don't take orders from you." I took a step to the side, my arm outstretched, and stepped directly between Morgan and Ethan, forcing Ethan to back up behind me. It was enough to put him out of Morgan's reach, and to substitute me in Morgan's line of attack.

"But you take orders from him?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I blinked, all innocence, and let my voice ring across the room. "I stand Sentinel. I'm a vampire of his House, and I stand Sentinel. If he orders me to lower the blade, I will."

Ethan was silent behind me. But it wasn't the fact that he made no order, but my admission that I'd obey it if it came, that prompted a round of whispering. Ethan had been right: Chicago's vampires doubted my allegiance, maybe because rumors had leaked out about the nature of my change, maybe because of my father, maybe because of my strength. Whatever the reason, they had doubted.

Until now.

Now they knew. I'd joined the fight, I'd made a shield of my body, and I'd stepped between Ethan and danger, drawn steel on his behalf. I'd accepted the possibility of injury, of death, in order to protect him, and I'd publicly made clear that I was amenable to his orders, willing to submit to his authority.

I had to squeeze the handle of the katana when the tunnel rushed me, when I heard Ethan's voice. I'd say this counts as a show of allegiance.

I almost grinned from the sheer relief of it, of realizing that I wasn't doing this alone, facing down a hostile crowd outside the chain of command. But I kept my gaze neutral, remembered the audience around us, and knew that they were memorizing this moment, would play it back, would recall it for friends and enemies and allies - the night they first saw Cadogan's Sentinel take up arms.

I said a quick prayer not to screw it up too badly.

Oblivious to the undercurrent, Morgan barked, "This isn't your fight."

I shook my head at him. "I took my oaths. It's my fight - only my fight. He named me Sentinel, and if you bring this to Cadogan House, you bring this to me. That's the way this works."

Morgan shook his head. "This is personal, not House business."

I cocked my head at him. "Then why are you here, in someone else's House?"