Blood Games

He smiled at me. “Far be it from you, Sentinel.”



Silence fell again, this time companionable. “You have to kick her ass in the phys testing.”



Eyebrow arched, he slid me a glance. “I have to ‘kick her ass’?”



“Between you and her, I’d much rather have you in charge.”



“The devil you know?” he asked with a half smile.



“Pretty much.”



We looked at each other for a long time. He still hadn’t touched me, but he’d shared something. We weren’t back on completely solid ground. But we were getting there. And I’d take progress over stagnation, over that barrier, any night of the week.



Ethan looked back, smiled softly. “Will things ever really be easy between us, Merit?”



Not easy, perhaps, but easier.



I reached forward, put a hand on his cheek. “She has no power over you anymore. Over us. Not with your past, not with your regrets.”



I leaned forward and kissed him softly, then left him with his thoughts to change into my pajamas.



It wasn’t yet dawn, but I was emotionally exhausted. I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, felt when he climbed into bed beside me.



We slept together, our arms and legs and bodies entwined, as if we might save each other.



And we forgot completely about the crème brûlée.



Chapter Nineteen



HUNGER GAMES



I woke at dusk the next night with a hunger so fierce I wasn’t capable of naming it. I sat up, found Ethan’s side of the bed empty, but heard the shower running in the bathroom. I pushed back the covers, slid my feet onto the floor, clenched my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.



I rose to my feet, the dull ache at the back of my head a mere whisper compared to the lust for blood that colored my vision. I pushed open the bathroom door, took in Ethan’s long and lean form in the shower, slicked with soap and water.



He must have sensed me, or the magic I was throwing off. His head snapped back, eyes widening. He turned off the spray, opened the door, stepped outside, body gleaming.



My breath hitched at the sight of him, at the sudden silvering of his eyes . . . and his sudden and obvious arousal.



“Merit,” he said, the word a low and lusty growl. We were predators in a haze of bloodlust, facing each other like warriors prepared for another battle.



“Ethan,” I managed, gripping the doorjamb to stay upright. “Blood.”



He stalked forward, steam rising from his body, and took my face in his hands. His mouth crushed down onto mine, tongue and fangs and lips entwining. We sparred with our kiss, antagonizing and provoking. He was moved by lust, maybe love. I was moved by lust for body and blood. For all that he could offer, and all that I would take.



I pulled back, nipped his lip, caught the bright and sudden smell of blood.



A single drop of vermillion rose on his lip. I lunged forward, the taste of him filling my mouth as his guttural groan filled the air.



“Take me,” he said, arching his neck to offer me access to all of him, to his life’s blood, and the thing I wanted from him alone.



I kissed the smooth and golden skin . . . and then I bit. He cried out, the sound carried on a wave of magic that shook the room as it traveled.



I wrapped my arms around him, sunk my fingers into his hair. His hand moved between us, found his arousal, pulled rhythmically as I drank.



That lasted only a moment. He put an arm around me, pulled my body against the rigid length of his, ground his hips against mine as he breathed through bared teeth against the pleasure of the bite.



I ignored the wrench of lace and fabric as he ripped the nightgown down the middle, exposing my body.



Merit. As he spoke to me with his mind and his body, his hands found my breasts, fingers firm and insistent as I drank the life he offered. But it wasn’t just hunger that wracked me. I felt his blood move through me, giving me strength and life, and carrying with it his love, his magic, his strength.



He found my core and pushed forward. He filled my body doubly now, the sensation so intense, so utterly fulfilling, that my body immediately convulsed with pleasure, a warm wash of it that spread through my body like liquid fire.



I gripped his hair tighter, pulling, and dug the nails of my other hand into his back. Ethan. Jesus, Ethan.



He groaned deliciously, cursed in Swedish, picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulled his body closer to mine as we moved.



In the bedroom he went to his knees, braced hands and arms on the floor behind him, pushed his body upward into mine as I drank, took what he offered.



His movements quickened, and I drew away, licking the final drops away from the small dots where I’d drunk from him. I met his eyes, which swirled with silver, and pulled the long length of my hair away from my neck.



His eyes widened at the offer, one hand rising from the floor to trace a line down the center of my body, pausing at my breast. He cupped it, thumbing the nipple to delicious pain that made need rise, hot and covetous, all over again.



I traced a fingertip down the arch of my neck, across my collarbone. Ethan’s eyes shined with pleasure. He bared his fangs, put a hand behind my head and pulled me forward, then sunk teeth into the soft skin at my neck.



His other hand found my hip, pulling our bodies together as he drank and moved ferociously beneath me, a sheen of sweat slicking between our bodies.



Pleasure swamped me, a river that threatened to sink me completely. I gripped his shoulders as my body shook with it, as it sent him over, too.



Fuck, he silently said, ripping his mouth away from my neck, his lips still stained crimson, eyes unseeing and head thrown back as shudders wracked him. God, but he was a sight—a warrior in the throes of passion, body rigid and sheened with sweat.



Mine, I thought.



* * *



We ended up in a pile on the floor, chests heaving.



“Dear God, Sentinel. You may be the death of both of us.”



“That was . . . definitely something.”



“‘Supernatural’ is the only word I can think to describe it.”



I opened my eyes, pointed at the tattered fabric that lay across the bathroom floor. “That’s why vampires can’t have nice things.”



Ethan laughed hoarsely. “I’m not certain I’ll allow you to dress ever again. I may just keep you here and naked.”



“You did enjoy my wild side.”



“I enjoy all sides of you,” Ethan said, reaching out and grabbing my hand, linking our hands together. “But your wild side is particularly enjoyable.”



I am a vampire sex warrior, I thought, with much satisfaction.



* * *



I let Ethan shower and dress, and then I prepared for the evening, thinking leathers were more appropriate than jeans or a suit considering the night’s agenda.



I pulled on leather pants and my jacket, a bright red tank beneath, and my Cadogan medal. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, brushed my bangs until they gleamed, and accented my pale skin with a wash of blush on my cheekbones and red gloss that made my lips look bloodstained. The result was spooky but effective. I picked boots with the highest heels in my closet, tucked my dagger inside, and belted on my katana.



I checked the mirror before I left, straightening my ponytail and the short, motorcycle-style lapels of my jacket. I looked fierce, and a little otherworldly. That was, I thought, the best I’d be able to do today.



Sleep had done wonders for the House. Instead of fear, the House buzzed with energy and excitement. If they’d treated the psych testing like emotional battery, they seemed to anticipate the phys testing like a Super Bowl. And for good reason. They’d seen Ethan fight—in battles at the House, around the city, in sparring sessions with me and others. He was a skilled and capable fighter, wily and well trained.



A phone message from Luc directed me to Ethan’s office, so I made my way downstairs. The office door was cracked, and I found Luc, Lindsey, Malik, and Ethan filling plates from a wheeled cart.



“You’re just in time for breakfast,” Luc said, using tongs to pile bacon on a plate.



I moved inside, smiled at Ethan, who was pouring orange juice into a short glass. “Carb loading?”



“Fueling, anyway,” he said, handing the glass to me. “Good evening, Sentinel.”



I drank, studying him over the rim of the glass. He was in good spirits. Maybe he was also ready for the challenge.



I was hungry, so I loaded a plate with eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and took a seat.



“He’s on his way,” Luc whispered when I sat beside him. It had been a week of mysterious pronouns, but this mystery I could solve. “He” meant Amit, my secret ploy, my Hail Mary to win the game.



“These have been tense nights,” Ethan said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “And tonight is not likely to be any different. But I was recently reminded that vampires would hardly be well served by a process that didn’t help the strongest challengers rise to the top. Whatever happens tonight, I wish us all well.” He raised his glass. “To Cadogan House.”



“To Cadogan House,” we repeated, but my stomach felt leaden as I realized what he was doing. He might have felt good about the physical challenge—his mood said that clearly enough—but he’d gathered us together, offered us thanks, in case he didn’t return home tonight.



He was offering his good-byes.



I put down my cup again, glanced at Malik, wondering if he’d understood, if he’d prepared himself for the possibility he’d soon be in control of the House. I found his gaze on mine, sympathy and acceptance in his eyes. He knew, then, what Ethan was mentally prepared to do, accepted it as an inevitability, that he’d give his life in service of the House.



I’d have to talk to him, steal time away. If he believed there was a chance he wouldn’t come back, I’d be damned if we separated without a proper good-bye.



“Malik will attend the testing with me; Bennett will attend with Sarah. They will be the official witnesses. I’ve not yet been apprised of the location. Luc will have the House while we’re gone.”



“Lakshmi has authorized Bennett and me to report back,” Malik said. “We’ll keep everyone apprised.”



Brody’s lanky form appeared in the doorway, knocked on the jamb. “Liege, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to see you. They’ve asked to speak with you directly.”



Brody’s expression was completely neutral, which told me he was in on the plan.



Ethan frowned. “Human? Vampire?”



“Vampire,” he said.



Frowning, Ethan rose. “I suppose I’ll be right back. Lucas, would you like to join me?”



“Sure, Liege.” Luc made a move to stand but waited until Ethan was at the door before sitting down and gesturing me toward the door. “This is your present, Merit. You might as well be there when he opens it.”



I nodded and rose, following Ethan to the front of the House.



A man stood in the foyer, around six feet tall, trim. He wore a pair of gray trousers and a white dress shirt. His skin was honeyed, his hair coal black, his eyes a doleful brown. His face was perfectly sculpted, his mouth sensuous, his huge brown eyes tipped by long, dark lashes and framed by dark brows.



He stood casually, hands in his pockets, a position I’d seen Ethan take hundreds of times. But where the carriage of his body was unassuming, even casual, his power was evident. It pulsed from him in soft, thick waves, nearly tangible enough to touch. I had to clench my fingers into fists to keep from reaching out, from touching him. But I resisted, guessing that the act would be akin to moth touching flame.



Instead I stared, taking in every line of his lean form, of the perfect drape of clothing over muscle and honey-dark skin. He was Amit Patel—the most powerful vampire in the world—and he was here because I’d asked him to come.



“Amit,” Ethan said, obviously stunned. “What are you doing here?”



They embraced with claps on the back and obvious delight in each other’s company.



“You’re undertaking a rather monumental feat,” Amit said. His voice was softly accented, the sound melodic. “Being here to support you seemed the least that I could do.”



“I am bewildered and flattered,” Ethan said. “And I appreciate your support.”



Amit grinned, their camaraderie obvious. “I’m not here to support you, old man. I thought you could use a warm-up.”



Ethan snorted. “I hardly need training from the likes of you.”



“You need training every moment of your very distinguished life.” Amit slanted me a glance. “And speaking of need, you must be Merit.”



Ethan glanced back, realized I stood a few feet away and held out his hand, gesturing me forward.



“Merit. Meet Amit Patel.”



Amit smiled slyly. “Merit. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”



Beside me, Ethan snickered. “You’ve done the impossible, Amit—rendered her speechless.”



“It’s lovely to meet you. Sorry, I’m a little”—completely in your thrall, which you probably aren’t even doing on purpose—“sleepy, I guess.”



Amit smiled and took my hand, and my knees nearly buckled from the pleasure of it. I had to lock them to stay standing, and had to force air through my lungs.



“Merit,” Ethan said, and I felt his hand at my waist as he looked at Amit again. “What did you do?”



Amit cocked his head at me. “I think she likes me.”



I coughed out a laugh. “The magic likes you. I don’t know you.”



He smiled beneath impossibly long, half-lowered lashes. “It’s lovely to meet your magic, then.” He looked back at Ethan. “Since you’ve got phys today, I thought perhaps a warm-up might be just the thing.” His dark eyes sparkled merrily. “Speed the heart, warm the blood.”