Wild Things (Chicagoland Vampires #9)

Wild Things (Chicagoland Vampires #9) Page 3

Finn pushed a key into the lock and opened the door. “Please come in.”

The invitation wasn’t strictly necessary—that particular bit of vampire myth was actually myth—but we preferred not to trespass.

The carriage house had been outfitted like a small apartment, with hardwood floors, colorful furnishings and décor, and a ceiling striped by large oak beams. There was a sitting area and a small kitchenette, and a door that led to what I guessed was a bedroom. The Brecks hadn’t spared any expense on the décor. Books and orchids were arranged just so on a coffee table, knickknacks placed here and there, one wall covered in a mix of line drawings and paintings in gilded frames.

“Pop uses the place for visiting board members,” Finn said, stepping inside and surveying the living room, hands on his hips. “Kitchen’s stocked with blood and food, so you should find everything you need here.”

He pointed to a keypad beside the door. “The entire house is rigged to the security system, which is hooked up to the main house. There’s also an intercom in case you run into trouble.”

I glanced around, didn’t see a back door. “Is this the only door in and out?”

Finn smirked. “Yes. And I see Nick wasn’t kidding—you really are a vampire fighter now.”

“All night long,” I said, gesturing toward the windows. “What about those?”

“Ah.” Finn pressed a button on the keypad. Segmented plates descended across the windows, covering them completely. With those guards in place, we’d be safe from sunlight and marauders.

“Thank you, Finley,” Ethan said. “We appreciate your family’s thoughtfulness.”

“It was Nick’s idea.”

“In that case,” Ethan tightly said, “we appreciate his thoughtfulness. And with all due respect, as we have amply demonstrated, your family has no reason to be hostile toward us.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not hostile toward Merit. I’m hostile toward you. I don’t know you, except that you’ve embroiled her in a world that’s worrying her father and put her grandfather in the hospital.”

The attitude was irritating, as the facts were wrong. My grandfather had been Ombudsman before I’d become a vampire, and I wouldn’t have become a vampire without my father’s meddling. Not that Finley needed the details.

“We all make our own choices,” Ethan said, his smile thin and dangerous.

“So we do. A suggestion?”

Ethan lifted his brows, as Finley slid his glance to the sheathed katanas in our hands.

“You might want to leave the weapons here. They don’t exactly scream ‘friendship.’”

He walked back to me, concern in his eyes. He held out the set of keys, which I took, our fingers brushing. He might have played polite, but he was as angry as Michael. He spilled magic into the air, sending an electric thrill across my fingers.

“Be careful,” he said.

I nodded, not sure what to say.

With that, he opened the door and disappeared into the night.

“Well, they are just delightful,” Ethan said.

I snorted, then walked over and locked the front door. I was responsible for Ethan’s safety, after all. Not that a dead bolt would do much good against a sustained attack. I didn’t think SWAT teams, paranormal or otherwise, would drop down on us during the daylight, but I suppose that was a risk we’d have to take.

“Has Michael always been that aggressive?”

I glanced back at Ethan, who’d pulled off his suit coat and draped it on the back of a nearby chair. “Actually, yes. When we were younger and I spent summers here, Nick and I, sometimes Finn, would play together in the woods. Michael never played at anything. I mean, he participated in football, but it wasn’t a game to him. It was a battle. He’s always had a very serious demeanor. And it doesn’t seem like he’s loosening up with old age.”

“Times are challenging for everyone,” Ethan said. “But it’s taken some supernaturals longer than others to realize and accept that. It’s easier, I think, for them to name us enemies rather than consider the possibility they’re surrounded by millions of humans who’d easily wish them dead.”

I grimaced. “That’s not exactly a comforting thought. Especially since it’s undoubtedly true.” I was sure we had human allies—those who didn’t judge, those who were fascinated by our differentness, those who longed for our fame. But we’d been coming face-to-face with mostly the haters recently.

Ethan glanced around the apartment, gestured toward the open doorway. “Bedroom?”

“I actually have no idea.” I’d spent a lot of time at the Breck estate as a child, but I’d never ventured into the carriage house. Why bother, when there was an entire mansion to explore?

I followed him through the door, found he was right. It was a small bedroom, with tall, exposed-brick walls. A bed covered in white linens and a buffet of pillows in shades of blue and green sat in the middle of the room, the head covered by a canopy of wispy tulle that draped romantically over the sides.

“Like the world’s weirdest bed and breakfast,” I muttered, dropping my bag onto the bed. There was an old-fashioned alarm clock on the bedside table and a copy of Cosmo. I hoped it had been left by a former guest and not a member of the Breck family who hoped to give me and Ethan a particularly exciting evening.

There was a small bathroom on the other side of the room. Pedestal sink, black-and-white-checkered floor, shower large enough for three. Very pretty, down to the monogrammed guest towels.

When I peeked back into the bedroom, Ethan stood with one hand on his hip, the other holding his phone as he reviewed his messages with a narrowed gaze. He looked more like the head of a Fortune 500 company than a Master vampire on the lam, but I wasn’t complaining. Ethan might have been cunning, funny, brave, and generous . . . but he was also undeniably eye candy.

Tall, lean, and imperious, he’d been my enemy, and he was the opposite of the man I’d thought I’d grow to love. I’d expected to fall for a dreamer, a thinker, an artist. Someone I’d meet in the coffeehouse on a weekend with a satchel full of books, a pair of hipster glasses, and a tendency to quote Fitzgerald.

Ethan preferred Italian suits, vintage wine, and expensive cars. He also knew how to wield a sword, or two of them. He Mastered the House, and he’d killed vampires by his own hand. He was infinitely more complex and difficult than anyone I might have imagined.

And I was more in love with him than I’d imagined was possible. Not just infatuation. Not just lust. But love—complex and awe inspiring and utterly frustrating.

Nearly a year ago, I thought my life was over. In reality, it was just beginning.

Ethan looked up at me, frustration fading to curiosity.

“Sentinel?” he asked.

I smiled at him. “Go back to your domineering. I’m just thinking.”

“I hardly domineer.”

“You made several lifetimes of domineering.” I gestured toward his phone. “Any news from Chicago?”

“All is quiet on the eastern front,” he said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

We could hope all we wanted. Unfortunately, hope rarely deterred humans with a grudge against vampires.

• • •

Much like he had in the rest of the building, Papa Breck hadn’t spared any expense in the bedroom. The bed was soft and undoubtedly expensive. The linens were silk soft—and probably just as expensive. Not that a twin-sized bed in a cold room was bad when you got to fall asleep beside a very sexy blond vampire.

We unpacked and undressed and prepared for the day ahead. I ensured the windows were covered, then messaged Catcher to check my grandfather’s condition.

ASLEEP, Catcher responded. AND WELL CARED FOR. YOUR FATHER SPARED NO EXPENSE.

He rarely did. If I couldn’t be with my grandfather, at least I knew he was getting the care he needed.

I also messaged Jonah, my RG partner, to let him know we’d made it safely to the Brecks’ house.

YOU’RE RUINING ALL OUR RG FUN BY HANDLING THESE THINGS.

IT’S NOT BY CHOICE, I assured him. DRAMA FINDS CADOGAN HOUSE.

SO I SEE.

I made him promise to tag me if there was trouble.

YOU’LL BE IN THE FIRST FIVE, he cheekily promised.

“Business?” Ethan asked, as I sat on the edge of the bed, one leg curled beneath me, the phone in hand.

“Jonah,” I said, fingers finishing my equally snarky good-bye.

Ethan growled, a manly display meant to remind me he still wasn’t thrilled about my ties to the tall, auburn-haired, and handsome guard captain.

“He’s my partner,” I reminded him. “And you’ve already consented to that.”

“I’m aware of what he is, Sentinel. Just as I’m aware of what you are to me.”

The sun peeked above the horizon only seconds before Ethan’s hands were on me, stripping me of clothing and inciting my body to flame. His mouth enveloped mine, then my neck, my breasts, my bare stomach, before he extended the length of his body over mine and chained my wrists above my head with his hands.

“You are mine,” he said, with a wicked spark in his eyes that sent a thrill down my spine.

“You don’t own me,” I reminded him, arcing my body just enough to prove the point.

“No,” he agreed, his lips so soft, playing at the edges of my breast. “We own each other. I am your Master. And you are my Sentinel.”

He wasted no time; I hadn’t needed any. “Mine,” he said, plunging inside me, plundering my body, demanding everything I had to offer, and then more.

“Mine,” he growled, as pleasure bloomed across my body like a living thing, as cold as ice and as hot as fire, emptying my mind and soul of anything but Ethan. His mind, his soul, his body, and the word he murmured over and over again.

“Mine,” he said, each word a promise, a declaration, a thrust. “Mine,” he said through gritted teeth, passion riding him as it had me.