Midnight Marked
“The House is already prepared because of Reed,” Malik said, comforting. “They’ll be careful.”
Ethan nodded at Malik, then looked around the room, meeting the gaze of each vampire in turn. “A shifter was killed by a vampire tonight. Gabriel trusts us to a point, but that trust will only extend so far. We don’t want to put our alliance at risk.” He rose. “I’d like a report at dusk with what we’ve learned about the defection, the shifter, the symbols.”
The other vampires understood the meaning of Ethan’s change in position, and they rose, too.
“On it, hoss,” Luc said, then nodded at me and headed toward the door, his guards behind him.
I rose to follow Luc, but Ethan put a hand on my arm. “Go upstairs. Take the rest of the night off.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ve only a few hours before dawn in any event, and tomorrow promises to be busy. I’d like you to help Mallory and Paige with the translation. I’ll clear it with Luc.”
He wouldn’t, actually. As Master, he’d inform Luc, which was a very different thing.
“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” I said. “I don’t really know much about alchemy, just recognized the symbols.”
“That’s why you’ll be their minion, and not the other way around.”
“Ha-ha.”
He pressed his mouth to mine. “I’m going to take care of a few issues here, including updating the AAM, and then I’ll join you in the apartments. Perhaps we’ll enjoy some wine in front of the fire.”
The AAM was the Assembly of American Masters.
“Is dealing with Nicole going to put you in the mood for wine drinking?” Nicole Heart was the Master of Atlanta’s Heart House, and the vampire who’d been elected leader of the AAM.
He chuckled. “It will certainly put me in the mood to want a drink.” He pressed his lips to mine, softly, tenderly. “Have a rest, Sentinel. I’ll see you soon.”
• • •
The Masters’ apartments were on the third floor of Cadogan House and were composed of a suite of rooms: sitting room, bedroom, bathroom, and enormous closet that held Ethan’s collection of suits and my leather fighting ensemble.
The rooms were as luxurious as the rest of the House, with beautiful furniture and art, fresh flowers, and, since the night was waning, the silver tray of snacks that Margot, the House chef, left for us every night. Tonight, it was here earlier than usual, but Ethan had probably told her how our evening had gone, requested she prepare it.
When I’d closed the door and kicked off my shoes, I unwrapped one of the gold-foiled chocolates she’d taken to leaving lately, a mix of chocolate, hazelnuts, and toffee that hit the spot.
As carefully as I could, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and headed for the shower. Ethan hadn’t spared any expense in the bathroom, with lots of marble, gleaming fixtures, and the fluffiest towels I’d ever used. And of course they were monogrammed with a curvaceous “C” in rich navy blue.
I turned on the enormous shower, let the water warm and the steam rise, and stepped inside. Eyes closed, I dunked my head and let the heat roll over me until I felt soothed again.
When I was dry and robed, I surveyed my pajama options in the bedroom’s chest of drawers. I usually opted for a tank or T-shirt and patterned shorts or bottoms. It was unlikely an emergency would occur during daylight hours—what could we do about it anyway?—but I liked being dressed just in case.
There were fancier things in the drawers—silk lingerie so delicate it felt like liquid between my fingertips, lacy and strappy things that weren’t built for comfort, but to excite. I couldn’t say I was feeling especially amorous, not with Caleb Franklin on my mind. I was feeling emotionally exhausted by supernatural drama.
The apartment door opened, closed, locked. Ethan appeared around the doorway, a leather portfolio in hand. He put it on the desk and glanced through the apartment, looking for me.
“Feeling indecisive?” he asked with a smile.
“Unsettled.” I pulled out a Cadogan tank, matching bottoms, placed them on the bed. Ethan had branded the House from top to bottom and everywhere in between. It wouldn’t have surprised me much to wake up one evening and find an inked “C” on my biceps. “I didn’t expect you to come up so early.”
“I decided I could also use a break.” Ethan walked closer, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Just tired and frustrated.”
His body tensed. Not much, but then I was attuned to it—and his moods—more than most. “Frustrated? About what?”
“About everything.” I walked back to the bed, sat down. “Ethan, every time we turn around, somebody wants to kill us, control us, put us out of business, put the Pack out of business. I guess I’m feeling burned out.”
He walked closer, pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You aren’t the only vampire to have these feelings.”
I looked up at him. “Oh?”
“Many Novitiates, many staff, have talked to me about their frustration, their fear, their stress.” He sat beside me, hands clasped in his lap. “We lived unmolested for many years before Celina decided to announce us. If we’d stayed quiet and let others handle the problems that arose, we wouldn’t have drawn as much attention. But we did. And so we face the consequences of our caring.”
And wasn’t that a kick in the ass? “I know,” I said. “It’s just . . .” I groped for words, pulled up my legs to sit cross-legged, and glanced at him. “I don’t want our child to grow up in a world like the one we’re facing right now. Where every night is a new battle.”
No vampire child had ever been carried to term, but Gabriel believed Ethan and I would change that, but only after we suffered some kind of unspoken “testing.”
Ethan’s expression went hot with protectiveness. “When the time comes, he or she will want for nothing, will know no fear, and will be protected by both of us.”
There was a ferocity in his eyes that surprised me. Not because I doubted he’d be a good father; to the contrary, it was easy to imagine him holding a child, protecting a child. But he’d been as surprised as I was when I told him about Gabriel’s prophecy. He’d come around.