CHAPTER 5
JUST A QUICK BITE
Sullivan walked in, followed by Luc and Ethan’s redheaded consort from the sparring room. Since I hadn’t officially met Ethan’s flame, I stuck out my hand as she sauntered through the front door in hip-high leather pants and a pale blue tank she’d unfairly burdened with the task of holding up her pendulous breasts.
“Merit,” I said.
She looked at my hand and ignored it. “Amber,” she said before turning away.
“Nice to meet you,” I muttered and shadowed the trio to the living room. I found Ethan standing, while his pretty vampire accoutrements fanned out on the sofa.
“Merit.”
Playing it safe, I opted for the honorific. “Liege.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, trying unsuccessfully to figure out what I’d done. “Why don’t you go first?”
There was a two-part groan from the couch.
Ethan planted his hands on his hips, sweeping back the sides of his suit jacket in the process. “You’ve been to see the Ombud.”
“I went to see my grandfather.”
“I warned you yesterday—about your role, your place—and I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t going to challenge my authority. Agreeing to spy on the House, to betray my House, clearly falls into the ‘challenging my authority’ category.” He stared down at me. A moment passed as I tried to wrap my mind around the accusation.
His nostrils flared. “I’m waiting, Merit.”
The tone was condescending. Patronizing. Profoundly irritating. And from what I’d seen so far, typical Sullivan. I tried to be the bigger person and explained, “I haven’t agreed to spy on anyone, and I resent the implication. You may not like me, Sullivan, but I’m no traitor. I’ve done nothing that justifies the accusation.”
This time, he blinked. “But you admit you were at the office?”
“My grandfather,” I carefully began, controlling my voice to keep from screaming at him, “took me to his office to meet his staff, to tell me about Chicago’s other supernaturals. I didn’t agree to spy on anyone or to betray anyone. And how could I? I’ve been a vampire for three days, and I’m willing to admit that I’m still pretty ignorant.”
Amber humphed. “She has a point, Liege.”
I gave him credit—he kept his eyes on me. I got a long look before he spoke again. “You don’t deny that you went to the Ombud’s office?”
I grappled to discover the logic underlying the questions, found nothing. “Sullivan, you’re going to have to help me here, because, contrary to the information you’ve been given, I haven’t agreed to do anything for the Ombud’s office. I went there to learn, to visit, not to get an assignment. I haven’t agreed to spy, to sneak notes, to give updates, anything.” I narrowed my gaze and crossed my arms. “And I don’t see what’s wrong with visiting my grandfather at his office.”
“What’s wrong,” Ethan said, “is that your grandfather’s office is trying to pin the Jennifer Porter murder on my House.”
“The Chicago Police Department is trying to pin the murder on your House,” I corrected. “From everything I’ve heard, my grandfather and everyone else in his office think you’re innocent. But you know there was a Cadogan medal at the crime scene. Assuming the forensics unit didn’t plant that evidence, that medal came from your House. Cadogan is involved, regardless of what my grandfather does, and whether you like it or not.”
“No one from my House would do this.”
“Maybe not the murder,” I agreed. “But unless you hand those medals out as party favors, someone from your House has a part in it. At the very least, someone let in the person who did take it.”
I didn’t expect his reaction.
I expected another rant, an outburst about the loyalty of Cadogan vamps. I didn’t expect his silence. I didn’t expect him to walk to the love seat and sit down, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. I didn’t expect him to run his hands through his hair, then rest his head in his hands.
But that was what he did. And the move, the posture, was so humble, so tired, and so very, very human, that I had the sudden, surprising urge to reach out, to touch his shoulder, to comfort him.
It was a moment of weakness, of yet another breach in the defenses I’d tried to erect against Ethan Sullivan.
And that, of all the goddamn times, was when the hunger rose.
I nearly lost my breath from the sudden race of fire through my limbs, and had to grip the back of the love seat to stay upright. My stomach clenched, pain radiating in waves through my abdomen. I went light-headed, and as I touched my tongue to the tip of an eyetooth, I could feel the sharp bite of fang.
I swallowed instinctively.
I needed blood. Now.
“Ethan.” Luc said his name, and I heard rustling behind me.
A hand gripped my arm, and I snapped my head to look. Ethan stood next to me, green eyes wide. “First Hunger,” he announced.
But the words meant nothing.
I looked down at his long fingers on my arm, and felt the warm rush of fire again. I curled my toes against it, reveled in the heat of it.
This meant something. The feeling, the need, the thirst. I looked up at Ethan, dragging my gaze past the triangle of skin that showed through the top, unfastened button of his shirt, then the column of his neck, the strong line of his jaw, and the sensuous curves of his lips.
I wanted blood, and I wanted it from him.
“Ethan,” I whispered in a voice so husky I barely recognized it.
Ethan’s lips parted, and I saw the flash of silver in his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by smoky green. I edged closer to his body, wet my lips, and then, without a single thought as to the consequences or what the act admitted, pressed them to his throat. He smelled so good—clean, soapy, everything male and masculine. He tasted so good—of power and man. The ends of his hair brushed my cheek as I kissed the long line of his neck.
“Ethan,” I whispered again, his name an invitation.
A promise.
He went statue-still as I pressed a kiss to the skin just below his ear. I could hear blood singing in the veins that lay millimeters below the press of my teeth. Then he sighed, and the sound echoed through my head, an acknowledgment of shared passion, of mutual desire.
The others around us began to talk. I didn’t want talk. I wanted action. Heat. Motion. I scraped my teeth against his neck—not breaking skin, just enough to hint at what I wanted. Of the direction I would take. His pulse raced, and I fought not to bite in too quickly, not to rush the pleasure of it.
But through the burn of arousal, something cold, unwanted pricked. I shook my head and pushed it back.
“Liege, you can’t feed her the first time. She needs human or Novitiate blood. You’ve got too much power for a first feeding. She’s strong enough as it is.”
Ethan growled but didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, beneath my lips, a silent submission. Pleased, I slid my hands around his waist.
“Get her off him, Lucas!”