Biting Bad (Chicagoland Vampires 8)

It was clear when we exited the basement that security around the House was tighter than usual. There were double the usual number of guards at the gates, more humans posted along the perimeter, and vampires interspersed with them, keeping a supernatural eye on things.

After two bouts of stop-and-go traffic - the first because of an empty sedan on the shoulder with its hazard lights on; the second because of a piece of cardboard in the road - we made it to Oak Park, the western suburb of Chicago that my parents called home. Ethan pulled the Ferrari in front of my parents' blocky, modern house. It was the only one in the neighborhood built in that style, and that wasn't a compliment.

Ethan helped me out of the car, which was tricky, considering my body-hugging skirt. The wind was bone-chillingly cold, even with a coat, gloves, a scarf, and galoshes.

I stared up at the boxy house, preparing myself for a moment before we went inside. Before my sister, mother, and sister-in-law fell on Ethan like hyenas at a kill.

"Are you okay?" Ethan asked when the doors were closed and the car was locked again.

I glanced back at him, so ridiculously handsome in his three-piece suit, so unlike any other man I'd met. He was as awe-inspiring as he was frustrating.

"I'm fine," I said, glancing over at the luxury minivans in the driveway. Neither Charlotte nor Robert spared the expense for top-of-the-line kid carriers. "Nervous, which seems to be a common theme these days."

Ethan frowned. "I thought you and your father were making progress."

"We were, although with my father, it's two steps forward, twelve steps back. It's more the rest of the crew that I'm worried about."

"I will try to forgo their advances on your behalf, Sentinel."

I rolled my eyes, knowing he was baiting me to help me relax, and loving him more for it. "You're not that irresistible, Sullivan."

He stopped suddenly, one foot on the street and one on the snowy curb. "Now you've done it," he murmured. Before I could object, he scooped me off the ground and into his arms, and carried me down the sidewalk to my parents' front door.

"What are you doing?"

"Being irresistible," he said matter-of-factly, as if there were nothing even remotely unusual about a vampire in a sexy black suit carrying his woman down the snowy sidewalk to her parents' castle.

I guess I hadn't needed the galoshes after all.

My arms around his neck, his mouth pulled into a haughty smirk, I couldn't help but smile.

He walked up the steps as if my weight were negligible - impossible, since I was five foot eight - and placed me carefully on the stoop. But he paused there for a moment, on one knee, grinning up at me.

My heart nearly stopped. Was he . . . ? He couldn't be . . .

As casually as he'd picked me up, Ethan flicked a bit of lint from the knee of his pants.

"Just a spot of dust," he explained, rising again and grinning wickedly at me. "Did you think I was on one knee for some other reason, Sentinel?"

My heart began to beat again. "You are a cruel, cruel man."

"If it's any consolation, I'm your cruel man." He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to my palm. "Forever," he added, and I smiled like a smitten teenager. Ethan Sullivan could play me like a Stradivarius.

"Let's go, Casanova," I told him, smoothing out my skirt and raising my fist to knock on the door.

My mother pulled it open before I made a sound, and I blushed, wondering how much of the front porch drama she'd seen. She wore a pale blue sheath dress and a string of pearls, her blond bob of hair perfectly arranged.

"Merit!" she said, her voice tinkling. "We're so glad you're here. You look absolutely gorgeous. So professional." She pressed a kiss to my cheek before immediately dismissing me for bigger and better prey.

"Ethan, you look absolutely dashing. That suit is terribly becoming." She squeezed his hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You look lovely yourself, Mrs. Merit." Slyly, he glanced between us. "I'd have taken you for sisters."

My mother waved him away, crimson rising on her cheeks. "Hush," she said. "And call me Meredith. I insist."

For a moment, my mother looked at us, a mixture of pride and relief in her expression. I wasn't sure which of those to find flattering.

"Where are my manners?" she asked. "Come in, come in." We didn't need the formal invitation - we'd been in the house before - but we nodded politely and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind us.

My mother reached out a hand for our coats, then deposited them on a wooden coat stand by the door. "We've given Pennebaker the night off since the family's all here, so just make yourselves at home."

I found it remarkable she'd arranged a dinner for so many without him. It either meant she'd cooked, which would be unfortunate, or she'd hired in the food. I crossed my fingers for the latter.

My mother smiled and clapped her hands together as she took in our ensembles, at least until she saw the galoshes on my feet. Her smile faded quickly.

I held up the straps of the heels in my hand. "Don't worry; I brought backups."

"Whew," she said. "I was afraid you were going to ruin that dress with those shoes. If we're calling them that. Plastic mud clompers, more like."

She disappeared into the hallway while Ethan chuckled beside me.

"Plastic mud clompers," he repeated.

I made a vague sound, using his body as a brace while I traded galoshes for pointy-toed stilettos. When the trade was done, I'd gained three inches in height. Still not enough to be at eye level with Ethan, but a good deal closer.

My mother appeared again with champagne flutes in hand and gave one to each of us.

I took a heartening sip before noticing the goofy expression on my mother's face.

Please do not glamour my mother, I silently requested.

I have no need to glamour, Sentinel. I'm naturally this charming.

I kept the commentary to myself.

We followed my mother into the house as five children - three boys and two girls - ran past us, toys in hand.

"My nieces and nephews," I explained.

"And Elizabeth is expecting a third. We're just in the sitting room," she added, and we followed her through the front of the house to the main living area.

As we made the journey, I found a house utterly different from the one I was used to. I knew my mother had planned to redecorate - she'd been moving out the old furniture during my last visit. But the change was remarkable. The architecture was still the same - concrete, like the exterior - but she'd brought in furniture and decor that made it feel warm and inviting, not the cold and clinical shell it had been before. No small feat for a concrete box of a house.