His lips curled in animal pleasure and he pushed between my thighs again, my body offering no resistance.

"Teeth," he demanded when he was inside me. "I want your teeth on me."

Drunk with pa.s.sion, I obeyed the command, sinking my teeth into the skin at his neck, the rush of blood-hot and powerful-sending my body into immediate overdrive. Ethan growled out my name as my body shook with the force of the pleasure, and he gripped the headboard with white knuckles, straining to hold back as pleasure rocked him, too.

Now, I demanded, forcing him to drop his own barriers, to hold back nothing from me, not the man, not the soldier, not the vampire, not the Master.

"Merit," Ethan groaned out, pushing upward with a final thrust, emptying himself with a cry that sounded equally anguished and fulfilled at the same time my body arched with pulsing pleasure.

Minutes later, we stood together beneath the spray in the room-sized shower in the carriage house bathroom, his body behind mine.

It was such a simple thing for him to ma.s.sage shampoo into my hair, to slick soap across my back. And it was probably the most intimate thing we'd ever done.

"Switch," I told him when my hair was squeaky clean. He dunked his head beneath the spray, pushed his fingers through it while water slipped down the arch of his back and across his very bitable a.s.s.

I felt my body stir to life again but ignored it. I'd had my fun for the evening. We were getting clean, and then we were getting back to work.

I squeezed shampoo into my hand, rolled it in my palms, and reached up to run it through the golden locks of his hair. He dropped his head back, braced his arms on the sides of the shower, and let me care for him.

And when the shower was done, when we pulled on the thick white robes that hung in the bathroom, I sent the message that, I hoped, satisfied my favor to Lakshmi: I'VE TOLD HIM. THE DECISION IS IN HIS HANDS.

I hoped it would be enough and, when our phones began to simultaneously ring, thought she was so p.i.s.sed by the response that she'd called me and Ethan both. But the communications weren't from Lakshmi.

I grabbed mine first, scanned the screen, found a message from Luc: NAVARRE 911. RAID. MAYOR'S THUGS. INJURIES.

"Merit," Ethan said, and I glanced back, found his phone in hand, as well.

"Domestic terrorism?"

He nodded and called Luc, got an answer on the first ring.

"I'm outside Navarre with Lindsey," Luc said, the wind howling behind him. It was Chicago, after all. "We're out of sight but keeping an eye on things. Jonah's got a few Grey House folks around, too."

Probably not just Grey House, I thought, but members of the RG keeping an eye on things, ready to step in if the need arose. I wasn't taking all their work.

"What happened?"

"We aren't entirely sure. We only got a little from Will." Will was Navarre House's very green guard captain. "Apparently the mayor's thugs showed up to take Morgan in to interview, and he refused. They surrounded the House, went inside. They're still in there. The vampires are all outside."

"Considering where we are, and the fact that we ran, I can't exactly blame Morgan for refusing the interview. How's Malik?"

"On full alert," Luc said. "We pulled all the temps onto duty, have them outside. We've also offered asylum to any Navarre vamps who need a place to go."

"Good," Ethan said. "Good. Keep an eye on things, and make contact with Jonah. Offer whatever a.s.sistance you can provide. And in the meantime, call the lawyers. We're coming home."

Fear bloomed cold in my chest. Ethan hung up the phone, tossed it on the bed.

"You want to go back so you can be Kowalcyzk's next victim?"

"Better me than them in my place," Ethan said. "I can't let any more vampires take my punishment. I've stood by too long."

"She's baiting you. Escalating to scare you back to Chicago."

Ethan began to get dressed, pulling a shirt over his head, his hair still damp and tucked behind his ears. "Quite possibly." He zipped up his jeans. "And I did as everyone asked. I waited her out. But no more."

I hadn't made Kowalcyzk's decisions, but I still felt like I'd failed. If Harold Monmonth hadn't made it so far into Cadogan House, if I'd taken him out first, if the GP had been more afraid of the House's Sentinel, Ethan might be out of danger.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so sorry for this."

Ethan looked at me, danger in his eyes. "Are you under the impression this has something to do with you, Sentinel?"

"I was supposed to protect you, protect the House. And look where that's gotten us. The mayor thinks we're enemies of the state, and she's not above beating a Master vampire. I should have killed Harold Monmonth when I'd had the chance."

He strode to me, took my chin in hand, forced my gaze to his.

"That woman's personal failures are not your responsibility. Nor would the death of Harold Monmonth by your hand have changed anything. Except that it would be you heading to prison, rather than me."

"My father could have kept me out."

Ethan's eyes cooled. "Perhaps. Perhaps he would have. Perhaps he'd have bribed Kowalcyzk to keep you out. And if he had? And a.s.suming she'd actually accept it, he'd consider the bribe a loan, and he'd exact payback, come h.e.l.l or high water. You've owed a favor to a very powerful individual, Merit. You know how oppressive that feels."

He was right, but that only made it worse. There was no knight in shining armor who could rescue him, no trick of Chicago politics-and there were a lot of tricks in that particular bag-that would keep him out of prison. We'd already used the chit in our possession, the fact that Detective Jacobs didn't blindly follow the mayor's dictates, and the reprieve had been only temporary.

I nodded. "I know you're right. I just want things to be different."

He put his forehead against mine. "We cannot change the world, Merit. We do what we can in our small corner, and we act with honor. We rise to the occasion, and we do our best."

He kissed me. "That is what we will do for now. Our best. Get dressed. Message Catcher and make sure he knows what's going on. Message Jonah and let him know we're coming back. I'll talk to Gabriel. This is going to require some finessing."

I nodded. "I'll pack, get our stuff together."

He looked at me, considered. "Actually, I think I'd prefer you go with me. You are his kitten, after all."

I humphed. I was n.o.body's kitten.

We found him in the kitchen with Tanya and Connor, who sat in a high chair with bright orange goo smeared across his face. He gargled happily when we walked in.

"Vampires," Gabe said, offering Connor another spoonful of orange goo. "What brings you by?"

"Are you hungry?" Tanya asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. "The staff's asleep, but we could find you something."

"We're good, thank you. We actually wanted to talk to you about leaving. Things have come to a head in Chicago-and we believe the carnival is headed there anyway. We'd like to return, as well."

"A head?" Gabe asked.

"The mayor had roughed up Scott Grey. Tonight, they raided Navarre House."

"She's not playing around to get you back."

"No, she is not. And others have taken the brunt of this particular experiment long enough."

Gabriel chuckled. "Yeah, running isn't really your style." He smiled at Connor, who mawed the mouthful of goo with bright and happy eyes. "Kid loves carrots. Craziest thing. Tanya and I both hate them."

He used the rubber edge of the spoon to clean up Connor's mouth, then pa.s.sed the utensil to Tanya and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel.

"The Pack is gone," he said. "You upheld your deal to investigate while they were here. And when the elves were attacked in daylight, they knew it wasn't your doing. The Brecks haven't left, obviously, but solving a mystery isn't going to change their minds about you."

"No," Ethan said. "I imagine it will not."

"And you still have the elves to sate," Gabriel said. "You owe them Niera, or we'll all have h.e.l.l to pay."

I imagined Chicago overrun with androgynous bow-and-arrow-wielding elves. Considering the state of their technology, couldn't the military handle them easily?

Ethan looked at me. "I know what you're thinking, Sentinel. That they'd be no match for black helicopters. But locusts do not need weapons to const.i.tute a plague. They only have to be themselves."

A potent metaphor.

"Safe travels and good luck," Gabriel said, standing and offering each of us a hand. "You do your species proud."

"Call me the next time you're in the city," Ethan said, then slid his gaze to me. "I believe we have some things to discuss."

Gabriel smiled wolfishly. "So we do, Sullivan. So we do."

I let Ethan drive back to Chicago. Considering his looming incarceration, it seemed only fair.

I also let him select the channel, and he found a station playing hard-driving Chicago- and Delta-style blues. The songs were grim, their lyrics telling tales of love and love lost, of heartache and adversity. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his gaze on the road, but he seemed buoyed by the music, by the reminders that hard times were universal, but time always marched on. Usually in twelve bars.

Ethan pulled directly into the House garage and parked the car in the spot he'd given me-but solely for the protection of Moneypenny. Ethan keyed us into the House but paused before ascending the stairway to the first floor, clearly contemplating what he was about to do.

"Maybe we should take the back stairway," I suggested. "We can put down our bags, and you can have a few minutes to collect yourself."

He looked back at me, smiled. I caught a brief flicker of grat.i.tude in his eyes, as if he'd had the same thought but wasn't sure how to broach the subject without appearing cowardly.

We walked to the other end of the bas.e.m.e.nt and the service stairway, climbed to the third floor, and then walked down the hallway to our apartments. The House smelled faintly like cinnamon and flowers, and none of the faint animal tang that permeated the Brecks'.

We found the apartments just as we'd left them. Cool, dark, beautifully appointed. The furniture was European, the ceilings high, the walls painted in warm colors. A vase of hothouse peonies sat on a side table, filling the room with the smell of flowers and the spring that would soon be approaching.

Ethan put his bag on the bed and walked to one of the windows, then pulled back the lush silk and velvet drapes that covered it. I dropped my bag and followed him, let him gather me into his arms as he stared out into the night. Unlike at the Brecks' estate, there was light aplenty in Chicago. We were in the middle of a residential neighborhood, with the lights of downtown in the distance. Snow still covered the grounds that surrounded the House, giving it an ethereal glow.

Ethan sighed, embraced me tighter.

"She can't hold you forever. There's no evidence."

"She shouldn't," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean she won't try. Especially if she's squawking about domestic terrorism and ignoring the city's other problems in the meantime."

"As long as she doesn't mess up your pretty face."

Ethan leaned back and peered at me. "My pretty face?"

"I'm dating you because you make good arm candy."

He made a dubious sound, squeezed me one more time, and then let me go. "We have the city's best lawyers," he said. "We'll hope that will be enough."

I hoped he was right, but hope wasn't going to bring him home again.

Chapter Fifteen.

PARTING IS SUCH (BITTER)SWEET SORROW.

Ethan changed from his jeans and shirt into a b.u.t.ton-down shirt, black pants, and a suit jacket with modern lines and a fashionably snug fit. He pulled back his hair, then glanced at me.

"You're incredibly handsome for a felon and terrorist," I told him, hoping to get a smile. I got an arched eyebrow, which was good enough.

We descended the stairs together, fingers linked. The foyer was full of vampires, and I had a sudden sympathy for the wives of discredited politicians who'd made similar appearances, trying to maintain a pleasant smile while lawyers and vampires mingled at the bottom of the stairs like sharks preparing to feed.

The magic in the air was frazzled and nervous, flitting about the room like stinging bolts of lightning. Ethan's vampires were nervous, and understandably so.

"Andrew," Ethan said, extending a hand to the man in the very well-cut black suit who stood beside Malik and Luc. He had dark skin, short hair, and a French-cut goatee that joined the moustache above his lip. His eyes were dark and set beneath a dark brow. His expression was serious.

"Ethan," he said, and they shook hands heartily. "You're ready?"

Ethan nodded, put a hand at the small of my back. "Andrew, my significant other. Merit. She stands Sentinel for the House. Merit, this is Andrew Bailey of Fitzhugh and Meyers."

Andrew and I shook hands as he gave me an efficient appraisal. "A pleasure to meet you, although I'm sorry it's under these circ.u.mstances."

"Same here," I said.

He glanced at Ethan. "Why don't we talk for a few minutes? I'd like to explain how this will proceed."

"My office," Ethan said, then glanced back at the other vampires in the foyer, who'd gathered a second time in just a few days to ensure his safety and see him off.

"I won't leave without saying good-bye," Ethan said with a smile, which made them chuckle in relief. "We'll discuss the details and be back shortly."

Ethan shined in times of crisis. He knew when others needed him to be strong, and he filled that role with aplomb.