Hard Bitten (18 page)

He looked up again, his eyes now lambent pools of green.

I smiled down at him. “You look drunk.”

“I feel . . . relaxed.”

I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t cross any more lines than I’d just vaulted, so I loosed his hands and stepped away, then moved around his desk and took a seat on the other side.

I figured I’d see irritation in his eyes when I looked back at him. For the second time, he surprised me. He was smiling—a kind of honest, humbled, sweet smile.

“Maybe I’m getting better at this?” he asked.

“Better at wooing you in the manner in which you should be wooed?”

I crossed one leg over the other and met his gaze. “My job is to ensure the sanctity of this House. Ensuring the sanity of its Master seemed like a good start.”

“Is that the story you’re sticking with?”

“That’s my answer.”

“I don’t buy it.”

I smiled thinly, eyes half-hidden beneath my lashes. “You don’t have to.”

“Hmmph,” he said, but he was clearly pleased by the repartee.

This time, he was the one who took the offensive. He stood and moved around his desk and toward me. I straightened up, every nerve in my body on alert as he approached. When he reached me, he took my hands, the same move Mayor Tate had used a couple of nights ago.

“I’m self-aware enough to admit that I prefer to be in control,” he said. “It is a consequence, I think, of the responsibility of maintaining this House. But I told you how I felt about you—”

“You didn’t, actually.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

I gave him a smile. “You told me you were beginning to remember how it felt to love someone. You didn’t make a confession specific to me.”

His lips tightened, but he was smart enough to ask the pertinent question. “Will it make a difference if I say that?”

“No. But a girl likes to feel appreciated.”

The only warning I had was the flash in his eyes before he moved, got down on his knees.

I froze, my stomach seizing. My teasing aside, a boy on his knees meant stuff I wasn’t going to be prepared to hear.

Ethan reached forward and slid a hand around my neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point he found there. “Merit, I lo—”

“Don’t.”
I knew I’d goaded him to it, but that didn’t mean I was ready for the words. I could hear the pleading in my voice, but I managed to stop him before he got out the
L
word. “Don’t say it. Putting it out there is only going to make it harder for both of us to actually do our jobs.”

“I’m not flattered by the fact that you aren’t sure whether I mean it or not.”

“Do you?”

He gave me a flat look, but then his expression changed to something much more appraising.

And that made me worry.

“What?” I asked him.

“We’re vampires.”

“I’m aware.”

“As vampires, we bargain, we negotiate, and we honor our agreements.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “And what agreement do you intend on forming?”

“I want a kiss. One kiss,” he added, before I could question him, “and I’ll keep the declarations to myself. One kiss, and then I’ll cease all flirting, as you call it, unless and until you come to me with your own declarations.”

I slid him a glance to check his expression.

Reverse psychology wasn’t beyond him, and the deal didn’t make much sense otherwise. I wouldn’t deny the attraction between us, but I felt pretty confident I could manage not to make sexual overtures to my boss.

“One kiss?” I reiterated.

“One kiss.”

“Deal,” I said. Hoping to jump the gun, I closed my eyes and offered puckered lips. Ethan chuckled, but ignored me long enough that I opened one eye.

“Don’t think you’re going to get by that easily.” The hand on my neck slid down, his thumb resting in the hollow at the base of my neck, the rest of his fingers splayed across my collarbone. His eerily green eyes stayed trained on mine, at least until his tangled lashes dropped and he moved in.

But he didn’t kiss me.

His mouth hovered just beyond mine, out of reach only so long as I refused to make that plunge forward—and he refused to execute the bargain.

“You’re cheating,” I murmured. I was torn about whether I was glad of it or not. I was afraid that if his lips touched mine, I’d lose the will to resist, and I was afraid that if I gave in, I’d lose my heart again.

Ethan shook his head. “I said one kiss, and I meant it. One kiss, my terms, to be claimed when the time is right.”

Suddenly, he shifted his mouth to my ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. I shuddered at the spark that trilled down my spine, my eyes rolling back at the ridiculous pleasure of it.

“This isn’t a kiss,” he whispered, his lips at my ear.

“Nor is it in the spirit of the bargain.”

“Let’s not focus on the formalities, Merit.”

And then his lips were back again, hovering against my jaw, teasing me with the possibility of what he might do.

With the anticipation of it.

I fought back the urge to step forward, to push my lips against his to be done with it. To push my lips against his because he’d incited me to it.

“I’ll have you in my bed again, Sentinel. And at my side. That is a promise.”

“You mean to tease me into a seduction?”

“Is it working?”

My answer was less a word than a frustrated grumble. I was self-aware enough to know that the only thing I enjoyed more than getting what I wanted was not getting what I wanted. In my experience, wanting was often more fun than having.

On the other hand, this was a game that could easily be played by two.

I lifted a hand and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, then traced the line of his eyebrow and jaw with a fingertip, my gaze drinking in each part of his face, from perfect cheekbones to long lips.

This time, he froze.

Flushed with feminine power, I traced the line of his neck, then curled a fist into the top of his shirt and tugged him forward.

His eyes widened; I bit back a smile.

This time, I tortured him, skimming my lips along the line of his jaw, and then to his ear. I bit him delicately, just enough to hear his heavy sigh. I wasn’t sure if I meant it, if I was torturing him because I thought he deserved to be teased just like he’d teased me, or if I wanted the joy of doing it on my own.

My heart pounded, the rhythm sped by fear and trepidation and simple desire.

“Do you like being teased?” I whispered.

“I enjoy previews,” he said, the words confident, but his voice rough with arousal.

I took the gravelly edge to his voice as my cue.

I wanted to tease him, not push us both past the point of no return. I put my hand flat against Ethan’s chest and pushed him backward. He rose unsteadily to his feet, looking down with me with frustration in his eyes.

A taste of his own medicine,
I thought
.
To be so close to something you wanted . . . and yet so far away.

I stood up and walked around my chair and toward the door, then blew out a breath and straightened my ponytail.

“That’s it?”

My heart was beating like a timpani drum, the blood rushing through my veins faster than it should have. “One kiss, you told me. You had your chance to take it.”

Ethan wet his lips, straightened his collar, and moved back to his desk. He sat down in his chair, then looked up at me, something soft in his eyes.

“One kiss,” he promised. “And after that, the next time we touch, it will be because you ask me.”

I wasn’t naïve enough to tell him I wouldn’t ask, to deny that I’d ever seek him out again. I knew better; we both knew better.

“I’m afraid,” I finally confessed.

“I know.” His voice was quiet. “I know, and it kills me that I put that fear into your eyes.”

We were both silent for a moment.

“Next steps?” I asked, turning him back to business once again.

“A stiff drink?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but then something occurred to me. I thought about what Sarah had said, and then gestured toward his shiny new furniture. “You know, a stiff drink may not be such a bad idea.”

“Have I finally driven you to alcohol, Sentinel?”

I grinned back at him, a sparkle in my eyes.

“We’re nearing the end of the construction.

Maybe I should round up some Novitiates for a drink at Temple Bar.”

His eyes widened appreciatively. “Offering an opportunity to casually investigate whether someone is using my bar to recruit human victims. Good thought, Sentinel.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sullivan. I’m just talking about a few drinks with my girlfriends.”

We sat quietly for a moment, the new deal between us solidifying. I was Ethan’s eyes and ears, his tool to solve the problem Tate had presented. But in order to keep him safe, he couldn’t have any more information than necessary. I wasn’t crazy about taking on the GP, and I hadn’t had much experience playing Sentinel without Ethan at my side, but I did like the idea of playing Sentinel without constantly fighting the chemistry between me and Ethan and the danger that brought with it.

He glanced down at his watch. “In case you’re vaguely curious, Darius will undoubtedly be back for additional threats, but he’ll eventually retire to the Trump. Some combination of jet and vampire lag. If you were to head to the bar at, let’s say, three o’clock, you’d probably miss him entirely.”

“How unfortunate.” The deal struck, I headed for the door. “I’ll keep you posted on any pertinent drink specials.”

“Sentinel?”

I glanced back.

“Next time you’re feeling chatty, don’t forget to check the room first.”

I
t wasn’t healthy, I could admit. I knew sponge cake and marshmallow cream weren’t the cure for physical frustration, that a long run through Hyde Park or a training session with Luc would have cured me better than calories might have.

But that didn’t make my fourth Mallocake—a processed and hydrogenated log of chocolate sponge cake filled with marshmallow cream so sugary it left your teeth gritty—any less delicious than the third had been.

Mallory had discovered Mallocakes one night at a convenience store in Bucktown. There were only a few stores in Chicago that sold them, which made her burgeoning love for the things

—sparked in part because of the similarities in their names—that much more inconvenient.

Mallocakes were made by a mom-and-pop bakery in Indiana that shipped them out only once a month, which made them harder to find.

But pain in the rear that they were to acquire, I couldn’t fault her taste.

They were
ridiculously
good.

The chocolate sponge cake was just the right balance of tangy chocolate and not-too-sweet cake, which matched up perfectly against a cream filling that reeked of sugar. There were a few hundred calories in a single dose, and each box boasted half a dozen cellophane-wrapped cakes. They were a self-pity sesh just waiting to happen.

On the other hand, I was a vampire. They couldn’t hurt me. Whatever criticisms you might level against Ethan for making me a vampire, I had a crazy-fast metabolism and no obvious means of weight gain.

A smarter vampire might have tried blood, satiated the need with a bag or two of type O or AB. But Mallocakes were so very human. And sometimes a girl needed to stay in touch with her humanity. Sometimes a girl needed breakfast that didn’t involve flax or wheatgrass or organic free-range cruelty-free whole grains. Besides, we were the only beings alive who could eat processed sugar and carbs with impunity—why not go for it, right?

Mallocakes, it was.

Really, it was a celebration prompted by the fact that the day’s paper didn’t reveal word one about last night’s rave. Things may not have gone smoothly in the House when I’d returned, but a quiet press was still a victory we needed.

And so, one small victory and two thousand calories later, I stuffed empty cellophane wrappers into the trash and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I’d had my snack, so it was time to get back to work.

Jeff answered before the first ring was complete. “Merit!”

“Talk to me, Jeff. Any news on that phone number?”

“Not a damn thing. It was assigned to a disposable phone, and the account has no other outgoing messages or calls. Just the one text. And I didn’t find any record of purchase in my merchant-data file for the minutes or the phone itself, so it was probably cash on both those transactions.”

“Hmm. That’s a bummer. And for the record, I’m very disturbed you’ve got merchant-data records.”

“It’s only mildly illegal. Hey, you want me to make you disappear from the financial system? I can do that. Even the Fed couldn’t find you.

They are such noobs over there.”

There was too much enthusiasm in his voice for my comfort. I was the granddaughter of a cop, after all. On the other hand, Jeff worked for that cop.

“No, thanks. And if you’re committing felonies, let’s make sure it’s for the good of the city.”

“You’re no fun,” Jeff complained.

“Aw, that’s not true. I’m plenty fun.”

“Vamps are really only like ten percent fun at any given time. The other ninety percent is largely fretting. And bloodletting.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Mr. Bell. Hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, can I talk to him? I’ve got a question.”

“Absotively,” he said, and then I heard his request. “Catch, the grandkid’s on the phone.”

I heard shuffling, which I imagined was the sound of Jeff carrying his phone to Catcher. That gave me time to adjust to the fact that I’d been deemed “the grandkid.” So much for my vampire suaveness.

“Yo gabba gabba,” Catcher said. “What’s up?”

“Drugs.”

“We’re in the third-biggest city in the country.

You’re going to need to be more specific.”

I picked up the envelope and looked it over.

“White tablets. Dose is maybe two at a time, and they’re delivered in a little white envelope.

There’s a
V
on the pill and also on the outside of the package.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I’ll have to check the database, but it doesn’t sound familiar. Why do you ask?”