Blood Games

“Respectfully, Ethan, stop reminding us of your job. We know you’re Master. We don’t doubt it. We do exactly what we’re supposed to do—protect you.”



“You’re my world,” he said, putting down the glass. “You’re mine to protect.”



“And I’d say the same thing about you.”



His eyes went hot again, and he stared back at me from across the room, magic roiling off him in hot waves. “Will you stop being so goddamned stubborn?”



I kept my eyes on his, my tone even. “No. Will you?”



“I want to keep you safe.”



“And I want to keep you safe. I did keep you safe,” I pointed out. “And still no thank-you for that.”



Ethan pushed his hands through his hair and walked to the other end of the room, where he stared out the giant picture window, shoulders stiff. Before dawn, automatic shutters would come down, leaving the office in vampire-friendly darkness. But for now, they offered him a view of the House’s grounds.



He stood silently for a moment before glancing back at me. “I’m afraid you’ll be hurt. Afraid you’ll be targeted.”



“Why would they target me?”



“Because I love you. Because love, to some, is a weakness. A pressure point. Because I would give up anything for you, including the GP. And because I don’t mean to give up either.”



I went to him without hesitation, stepped into the arms he extended.



“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.



“I love you, too. But love or not, my job is to protect you.”



“Then maybe I should reassign you to the library.”



I laughed. “Sullivan, we crossed that bridge a long time ago. You’ve made me—trained me—and there’s no going back.”



He humphed.



“Still waiting on that thank-you,” I cheekily said, since we’d broken the ice.



He smiled, rubbed a thumb along my jaw. “Did you know your eyes darken when you’re serious? From cloudy sky to deep, dark ocean.” His gaze went absent as he scanned them, his green eyes tracking across my gray-blues. “So much there. Dedication. Honor. Love.”



He was skilled enough to flatter, but the depth of emotion in his eyes told me he was being sincere. My blood began to hum at the passion in his eyes, from the soft kiss he pressed to my lips.



“That’ll do for thanks,” I quietly said, pulling the reins on my hormones.



“Oh, Sentinel.” He put his arms around me again, enveloping me in comfort and his crisp-cotton cologne, then rested his head atop mine. “What am I going to do with you?”



“For starters, a shower.”



“I didn’t mean that exactly.”



I leaned back, gave him my sultriest expression. “Oh,” I said. “But I believe you did.”



Chapter Three



EVERYDAY MAGIC



We shared the Master’s apartments on the House’s third floor. A sitting room, bedroom, bathroom, and gigantic closet large enough to be a room itself. It was like a permanent spa retreat: beautiful, luxurious, scented faintly like cologne and hothouse flowers.



I walked into the bathroom and wasted no time peeling off my clothes and dropping them on the floor, leaving me naked but for the Cadogan pendant around my neck.



The bathroom was colossal, with a lot of warm stone and a giant soaking tub. But it was the shower that I wanted, with ample steam and water. I set the temperature of the various sprays, waited until the water was near boiling, and stepped inside.



The sensation was delectable. Every muscle relaxed, goose bumps of pleasure racing along my skin. And when Ethan stepped behind me, naked and tall and impressively aroused, things only improved from there.



But that didn’t staunch my humor.



“Oh, François,” I breathily said. “You’ll have to hurry. My boyfriend will be back soon.”



Ethan grunted and slipped his arms around mine, pulling him tight against my body. “My desire is impatient,” he said in a French accent that was surprisingly believable. “It will not wait, and damn your boyfriend.”



I turned to face him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and caught his bottom lip gently between my teeth. “Then by all means, François, let’s get to it.”



* * *



Wrapped in a thick, white robe, I emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later decidedly more relaxed than I’d gone in.



But I s topped in the doorway, scenting the air.



“Something wrong?” Ethan asked, stepping behind me, his voice low. I felt the rise of his magic as he awaited my response.



“Hardly.” I followed my nose into the sitting room, found on a side table a tray bearing silver-domed plates, bottles of Blood4You, cups of fruit, and gold-wrapped chocolates. I lifted one of the domes, found a set of folded tortillas spilling with fragrant, spicy pork.



Suddenly starving, I glanced back at Ethan, who watched me with amusement.



“You ordered dinner.”



“I expected you’d be starving,” Ethan said. “So I asked Margot to bring this up.”



“Why do people always think I’m hungry?”



“Because you’re always hungry.”



“Well, I did run three miles today.”



“Hardly a formidable exertion for a vampire.”



“Exertion enough.” I plucked up a plate, bottle, and silverware and carried them to the sitting area, where I took a seat and began to nosh.



The tortilla was delicate; the pork, as expected, was delicious. Margot was an amazing cook.



But then my smile faded, and mortification colored my cheeks. “Margot brought this in while we were having sex.”



Ethan smirked. “Probably.”



I closed my eyes. I was not an exhibitionist and had no interest in other Novitiates hearing anything of my intimate moments with Ethan.



“Sentinel, the vampires of this House are not naive. I strongly suspect they know what goes on behind these doors.”



Since we’d shaken the House’s foundation with sex and magic, that was undoubtedly true. “Still,” I said, but managed another bite of dinner, my appetite unburdened by embarrassment.



Ethan sat down beside me, plate and bottle in hand, then flicked something beneath the coffee table. With a low hum, a portion of the table lifted smoothly up on hinges to meet the plate he held out. He sat it down, then whipped the napkin into his lap.



I stared in amazement. “How long has it done that?”



“For the entirety of its existence.”



I gave him a dry look that he ignored, but he flipped the notch on my side of the coffee table. Like magic, the table on my side lifted as well.



“Magic,” I said, inordinately happy that the fancy piece of European furniture turned into a TV tray.



“I am a man of many talents.”



I grinned, arranged my plate on the raised surface. “And apparently some of them don’t require nudity.”



“Har-har.”



A peaceful silence fell, and we ate quietly for a few minutes. But there was still a thread of tension in the air.



“You’ll have to talk to Luc,” I said.



“He’ll be sullen.”



I smiled, speared a chunk of pineapple. “He’s already sullen. It will only get worse if you treat him like he’s not equipped to handle this. He’s captain of your guards, after all. Just go down there and talk to him.”



He looked up, staring blankly into the room, and sighed.



I pierced a grape, held it up for him. “Fruit?”



“Somehow that makes me uncomfortable.”



I bit it toothily.



“As does that,” he said. “Perhaps we should change the subject.”



“All right,” I said. “What’s new in Masterdom?”



“Masterdom?”



“You know,” I said, gesturing with a fork. “All of this.”



He smiled lightly. “Well, our portfolio is underperforming. I’d prefer a return much higher than we’re getting right now. But I can move things around a bit, remedy that.”



“The House will appreciate it.”



“Not the House’s portfolio,” he said. “Ours.”



I stiffened.



Ethan chuckled. “It hasn’t escaped my attention, Sentinel, that you cringe every time I mention our future.”



“I don’t cringe. I only cringe when you pretend-propose.” He had a penchant for going down on bended knee—and straightening a hem or helping me with a shoe. “Nobody finds that amusing.”



“I find it excessively amusing. You do realize, don’t you, that the proposal won’t always be fake?”



I looked up at him, found there was no mistaking the earnestness in his eyes. We’d been Master and Sentinel for nearly a year, but we’d been a couple for only a handful of months. It didn’t seem to matter to Ethan; he was utterly sure of me even after so little time.



Ethan sipped from his Blood4You. “I love you, Merit. You are my future, and I intend to make certain you—and the rest of the world—know that, when the time is right. Why does it surprise you so much?”



I struggled to put the emotion into words. “It’s not surprise at you. It’s not doubt. It’s just—it’s just blossomed so fast. Four hundred years of dating, and you’ve made up your mind about me so quickly.” That didn’t even touch on the fact we’d been prophesied to have a child together—the first vampire child in history.



Something in Ethan’s eyes darkened, shifted. Not for very long—but for a split second, there was a cloud across his eyes. Because I’d mentioned his past? I knew there’d been women before, just as he’d known I’d dated. Once upon a time, I’d walked in on him with one of them, his former Consort, which had once been an official position in the House . . . a position he’d offered to me.



As if a breeze had blown it away, the shadow passed, and his eyes flamed green again.



“I made up my mind because we fit,” he said, reaching out to take my hand, to squeeze it. “You make me better, and I like to think I do the same for you.”



I thought of the awkward human, then vampire, I’d been, and the slightly less awkward vampire I was becoming. “It’s just—you were very unexpected.”



“That’s because you’d only explored one half of yourself, Sentinel. I merely gave you the chance to blossom. To be the person you were always meant to become.”



Tears rushed into my eyes, and I knuckled them away. “Damn it, Ethan. How do you come up with things like that?”



“I keep a notebook. I intend to make you mine, Sentinel. Not just for tonight, or for tomorrow, or for the decade. For eternity. And I’ll have my ring on your finger. I’ll have the world know that you’re mine. I suggest you get used to the idea.”



With a frisson of excitement speeding my heart, I decided I’d find a way to adapt.



* * *



We’d just finished the meal when my phone began to ring. I pulled it out, found my grandfather’s name on the screen.



“You made it home okay,” he said with obvious relief.



“We did. Anything new on the attack?”



“Not yet. They’ve gone through the car, sent what they found to the lab, but we don’t have the results yet. Although that’s not why I’m calling. I’m afraid I’ll have to interrupt your night again. We could use your help.”



“With what?”



“There’s been a murder.”



My heart nearly stuttered, as if unsure whether to stop or start wildly racing. I put a hand on my chest. “A murder?”



Ethan’s gaze flashed toward me.



My grandfather cleared his throat. “The victim was Arthur’s son.”



I closed my eyes. Detective Arthur Jacobs was a stand-up member of the CPD—both a good friend to my grandfather and an ally of ours. I wouldn’t have wished death on anyone, and certainly not the loss of a child.



“I’m so sorry,” I said. “So very sorry.”



“He’s not here—too close to it, of course. He’s with his family. But obviously this is important to him, which makes it important to me. And that’s why I’m calling. It’s the manner of his death. I’m here with Catcher and Jeff, but we’d appreciate your thoughts—and Ethan’s, if he’s available.”



This time, my stomach fell. The last thing we needed was another vampire accused of murder. It would be a quick end to our temporary peace. “You think a vampire was involved?”



“We aren’t sure. The victim was found at Fourth Presbyterian Church,” my grandfather said. “On Michigan Avenue. He’s in the courtyard.”



That church—and the courtyard—was beautiful. It was a refreshing patch of green along the bustle of Michigan Avenue. I wasn’t sure if it was better or worse for the victim to have died in such a lovely place.



“It looks like someone may have tried to tie vampires to it. That’s part of what we’d like your thoughts about.”



“We’ll do whatever we can to help. And we’ll be there as soon as we can.”



I said my good-byes, hung up the phone, and met Ethan’s gaze again. His expression was blank; he knew something was wrong, and he’d already moved into Master mode.



“What’s happened?”



“Detective Jacobs’s son was killed,” I said, and caught his sympathetic wince. “They found his body at a church on Michigan Avenue, and my grandfather would like us to consult.”



Sympathy turned to concern—probably fear that vampires had been involved in such a heinous crime. “Vampires had something to do with it?”