Biting Bad (Chicagoland Vampires 8)

But while the accommodations forced us to sleep like sardines, it was difficult to argue with an arrangement that put me skin to skin with a sexy blond vampire.

I was wrapped around him, naked from our predawn lovemaking and chilly. Cadogan House was many things, but warm it was not.

"Sentinel," Ethan said.

"Liege."

He trailed fingers down my back. "Considering our positions, I think we can dispense with the formalities. Happy Valentine's Day."

Despite having made the plans, I'd completely forgotten about Valentine's Day.

"Happy Valentine's Day," I said. "I'd actually forgotten."

"I didn't," Ethan said, "but I think a postponement is in order, considering . . ."

Intellectually, I knew he was right. If I was going to celebrate the miracle of my relationship with Ethan Sullivan, I wanted to do it correctly. I didn't want to be worried about whether rioters were going to attack my House and kill my friends, or the GP would send a herd of chimeras to destroy the House in retribution for Monmonth's death. I wanted to sit with Ethan and watch the sun rise over the lake, not rush back to the House out of fear we'd be burned to ash if we tarried too long.

In short, I wanted to be human. And that was not in the cards.

When I didn't answer, my disappointment keen even if totally irrational, Ethan explained.

"We can't afford it," he said. "Not considering what happened last night with the GP, and what might happen tonight. The rioters are still out there. I want Valentine's Day to be special, not a dinner in which we're worried the entire time about what might be happening here."

I was quiet for a moment. "Do you ever wish you were still human?"

Ethan paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "Are you wishing you were human, or that your life was simpler?"

I used one of his tricks. "Yes," I said, picking both answers. "I'll call and change the reservation. Give us a cushion of a few days. Maybe things will be less psychotic by then."

I pulled myself away from him, then climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower and get ready for the night," I said. "Because as you pointed out, there are likely nastier things around the corner."

-

I showered, brushed my teeth and my hair, then pulled my hair into a ponytail and then a topknot.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Ethan was gone, as were his watch and cuff links from the nightstand. He'd dressed and gone downstairs, without even time for a good-bye.

It was quite a beginning to Valentine's Day.

Since I was inevitably a vampire tonight, I walked down the hallway to the small, second-floor kitchen and snagged a bottle of blood and a bagel studded with raisins and topped with crunch streusel. I ate at the counter, reading through the announcements pinned to a small bulletin board along one wall. This news was surprisingly chipper: pearl earring found, owner wanted; small TV for sale; video games for trade.

I finished the blood, but managed only a few bites of the bagel. I was still discomfited by what had gone on last night, and my appetite hadn't come back. I also wasn't exactly eager to get started with the night, so I stood in the kitchen for a few more minutes, just in case my hunger fired back up.

It didn't. I was actually too stressed to eat.

I tossed the rest of the bagel, wiped my hands, and made for the stairs. I needed positive news and action. I needed progress, because I was beginning to feel like a drug dog that hadn't sniffed out a dirty suitcase in a while.

I walked to Ethan's office to check in before I left, but his door was closed.

Normally, I'd have knocked in warning and gone in. But there seemed a pretty good chance he was on the phone with people significantly above my pay grade and my interruption wouldn't be welcome.

Before I had time to wonder if I should eavesdrop, Jonah emerged from the cafeteria at the other end of the hall, a glossy red apple in hand.

Excellent timing, I thought. I walked toward him, gesturing back toward Ethan's office. "What's going on in there?"

"I don't know. I assume Ethan's talking to the GP. Why?"

I shook my head. "Just being nosy."

Jonah crunched on the apple. "You're dating him. Don't you two pillow talk? Can't you seduce all the secrets out of him?"

"Who am I, Mata Hari?"

"You're Mata Hari enough to manage to snag the Master of the House." He lifted his eyebrows teasingly, then took a final bite of the apple before chunking the core into a small, decorative wastebasket on the other side of the hallway. He nailed the shot, which made sense, considering Grey House's athletic bent.

"You are hilarious, you know that?"

"I do," he said. "But seriously. Isn't there some kind of boyfriend-girlfriend privilege you can use to find out what's going on?"

"If there was, logically, it would mean he could tell me, but I couldn't tell you."

"Then my idea was poor," he said, crossing his arms. I could see the amusement in his expression slide right into concern. He might joke around, but he, too, was worried about the closed-door meeting.

I glanced around the hallway, ensuring we were alone. "Times like this make us perfect candidates for the RG, you know. We're suspicious by nature."

"And vampires are conniving by nature," he said. "Especially Masters. Or they wouldn't be Masters. Hey, isn't it Valentine's Day? Don't you two have big plans?"

"We did," I agreed. "At least until the city went boom."

"And the GP went bust," Jonah grimly responded.

Without ado, the door opened.

Ethan stood on the other side, gazing at Jonah and me like a schoolteacher who'd just caught two naughty children in the act of disobeying orders. Predictably, he shot up an eyebrow and gave me a visual dressing-down.

"Sentinel."

"Liege," I said properly, with a little head-bob for good measure. "We were just discussing business."

"Interrogation techniques," Jonah added. "Methods for extracting information from unwilling subjects."

Ethan looked dubious about the explanation. "There's no need for torture," he said, pulling the door open farther.

Nick Breckenridge, tall, with cropped dark hair, blue eyes, and the body of a rock climber, stood in the middle of Ethan's office, Scott beside him.

Nick wore a button-down shirt and jeans, with a tweed blazer over it. He carried a small reporter's notebook in one hand. The look was more professorial than I'd usually seen him, but he managed to pull it off. He looked like a very popular professor - the Indiana Jones of the journalism set.