Midnight Marked: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (14 page)

BOOK: Midnight Marked: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel
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Ethan frowned, considered. “What else?”

She nodded, tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. “So, the weird thing is that the order of the symbols doesn’t really make sense. We’ll find a few symbols that do something, a phrase in the correct order, but then they go wonky again.” She pointed to one of the phrases. “This, for example, this is a nullification equation.”

“What does it nullify?” Ethan asked, head cocked.

“Whatever you want it to. It’s like a magical verb. Particularly, a verb of subtraction. But it doesn’t do anything without an object to nullify, which also has to be spelled out.”

Ethan’s gaze tracked to the next group of symbols. “The lion, the beaker, the—what is that? A waterfall? They’re the objects?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Paige pointed to the next phrase. “This is the troubling part—the time, the position. When and where the sorcerer is supposed to make all this happen. It’s gibberish, alchemically speaking and astronomically speaking. The planets don’t align that way.” She looked at me. “It’s taken us two hours to figure out we can’t translate this phrase, and there are hundreds more phrases just like it in the equation—ones that don’t make sense in context.”

The soft sound of footsteps had us all looking up. The Librarian strode toward us in a collared shirt, his wavy hair sticking up in tufts. He reached us, looked protectively at Paige, then at Ethan.

“It’s late,” he said. “Any objection if I get her out of here? She could use a break.”

Ethan checked his watch, looked surprised by the time. “Your work is very appreciated,” he said, lifting his gaze to Paige. “And I think you’ve done plenty of it for the night.”

“Good,” she said, “because I’m beat.” Right on cue, she yawned, cupping delicate fingers over her mouth. “Sorry. Long night.”

“For all of us,” Ethan said, gesturing to the door. “Get some rest. We’ll close up the library.”

There weren’t many vampires who could pull off a suspicious look at their Master, but the Librarian managed it. “But, Sire . . .”

Ethan arched an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain we can turn off the lights and close the door. We probably won’t even allow Malik to test the sprinkler system.”

The Librarian’s expression was dour. “That’s not funny.”

Ethan just smiled. “Take a break. Have a drink. Get some rest.”

Paige pushed back her chair. “Maybe I’ll have some sort of brainstorm in a dream.” Although the sun wouldn’t affect her the way it did us, many other supernaturals slept during the day, as if they’d adapted to our schedule.

She glanced at us. “You’re heading out, too?”

Ethan smiled. “As soon as we see that you’re tucked away.”

“In that case, we’re out,” the Librarian said, and led her to the door.

“I’m surprised he doesn’t sleep on a cot in the back,” I muttered when the door closed behind them.

Ethan grinned. “He requested it when we remodeled the House and added the library. He’s very committed to his job.”

“So’s Margot, but I don’t think she sleeps in the pantry.” Not that that would be a bad way to go. “I didn’t know the library wasn’t original.”

He frowned, gesturing to the space. “There was a room, more akin to a study than an actual library. The Librarian created the initial plan, coordinated the assemblage of our collection. I don’t think he would be offended to hear me call it his life’s passion. Well, other than Paige. He is a man in love.”

I smiled. “She’s the only one who gets to call him Arthur. That’s sign enough.”

He chuckled. “In the same way that you’re the only one who gets to call me Ethan in that particular tone.”

From the gleam in his eyes, I assumed he meant a seductive tone. “I better be. I hear anyone else is taking liberties, and we need to have a serious talk.”

“You’re the only one I allow to take liberties,” he said, and the gleam in his eyes deepened.

There was something about this sexy, beautiful man in this sexy, beautiful library that made my mouth dry.

“Then I should take advantage,” I said, and walked toward him, put my hands on his thighs.

I slid my hands from his lean thighs to his lean abdomen, felt his sharp intake of breath, the clench of muscles beneath my hands. His body was warm beneath my hands, seemed to radiate heat.

I lifted my gaze to his; the green of his eyes had deepened. He watched me with intent interest, and with the arousal we’d already halted twice tonight.

“I have plans,” I said, adjusting my body against his. I tangled my hands in his hair, pulled his mouth toward mine, and sank in. At other times, there might be kisses of love, of companionship, of solidarity. This was a kiss of banked passion, of heat, of promise. Ethan’s throat grumbled possessively, predatorily, as he deepened the kiss, tilted his body toward mine.

He pulled back, stared at me with silvered eyes languid with desire. “We should take this upstairs.”

I shook my head. “Here. Right here.” Others had had their fun tonight. I figured I was due.

Ethan opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again and slyly. “Very well, then.” He walked to the double doors, locked them with a loud metallic click that echoed across the room. When he stalked back, he picked me up, set me on the table, and stepped between my thighs. He was already rigid, already ready, and he moved a hand between our bodies to ensure that I was, too. He didn’t have to worry. I closed my eyes, arched back against passion.

Sensation pummeled me, and the first golden arc of pleasure swept over me like a firestorm, igniting every nerve in my body.
“Ethan,”
I cried, nails digging into his shoulders as I worked to keep my grip on him, on reality.

My head spinning, I focused on stripping him of clothing. His shirt, mine, hit the floor, were joined by pants, shoes. And then we were naked in the middle of the Cadogan library, his body lean and hard with muscle and desire. I put a hand on the flat of his abdomen, watched his defined muscles stiffen.

“You are beautiful,” I said, lifting my gaze to him. His eyes were silver now, his fangs bared, his gorgeous face framed by hair that gleamed golden in the moonlight. To an unsuspecting mortal, he’d have been terrifying. But to a vampire, to
me
, he was the embodiment of life and energy and strength. He was passion and desire, the hunger that would never really be sated, the eternal craving.

He put his hands on my face, stared at me for a long moment before setting his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply. This time, I moved a hand between our bodies, finding him and driving him further.

He braced a hand on the table, eased me back, and thrust into me with power that had me sucking in air. Then we moved together, illuminated by the shafts of moonlight that speared down from the room’s high windows. Heat and magic flared again, and I arched my neck to him and felt the press and pinch of his fangs all the way to my core, as if he’d reached the very well of my soul to the love that bound us together.

Our movements became more frantic, more desperate, as we climbed higher, grew closer, breathed faster. His thrusts deepened and he pulled away from my neck, groaning as he reached his ascent.

The sound—deep and primal—sent me over the edge, and I followed him over the top.

•   •   •

For several minutes—or maybe a few hours; I wasn’t really in a position to calculate—we lay together, naked and sweaty, on the top of the library table.

“He is going to lose his mind about this,” Ethan said, humor in his voice.

There was no need to ask which “he” Ethan meant. “Probably so. You’ll have to increase his budget.”

“Trust me, Sentinel. He wants for nothing.” Carefully, he climbed off the table, then offered a hand to help me up.

I had to sit on the edge of the table for the few seconds until my head stopped spinning. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s one of my”—I couldn’t help snorting—“favorite rooms in the House.”

“Well, now, certainly.”

Standing in front of the table, Ethan put his hands on his hips. And there, naked in his House and the library he’d built for it, he surveyed his demesne. “It’s very freeing, standing here naked in my library.”

“I imagine it would be. And you’ve earned it, given how much you apparently pay for it.” I hopped off the table, but kept a hand on the edge just in case my knees wobbled, and began collecting my clothes.

“Oh, I’ve earned it,” he said with a salacious grin. “Shall I earn it again?”

I put a hand on his chest. “I love you. I do. But we’re twenty minutes from dawn, and I would kick you in the shin to get to a shower right now.”

He shook his head. “And so our romance begins to fade, even before the afterglow has worn off.”

I pulled on pants and a shirt, nodded toward the windows. “We don’t get out of here soon, we’re going to experience an entirely new variety of ‘afterglow.’ And we won’t survive that one.”

“Eternally romantic,” Ethan said, but began pulling on his clothes.

When we’d dressed—or enough to make the trip up one flight of stairs and down the hallway—Ethan turned off the lights, and we left the library in darkness.

We left the books to rest, and went to find darkness of our own.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BED OF ROSES

W
hen I woke, I found Ethan standing near the desk, staring at me. His body was tensed like that of a soldier preparing for battle, his expression was ice-cold, and a chilly wash of magic had coated the air.

He lifted his hand, held up a small, slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Shit,
I thought as recognition dawned.

“Sentinel.” Every syllable was as crisp as his tone, each sound tipped with anger. “What, exactly, is this?”

It was the note from Reed, the one I’d crumpled and thrown into the trash—or thought I had. I must have missed. Ethan had seen it, picked it up, and definitely read it.

“And more to the point,” he continued, taking a step forward, “why have I not seen it before?”

There was no way to avoid it now. “Reed slipped it into yesterday’s paper, or had someone do it. He was just being an asshole, so I threw it away.”

“He threatens you, and you
threw it away
?”

“He doesn’t care about me, and you know it. Not any more than he cares about any of us. But he loves drama, Ethan, and I’m sure he was hoping you’d give him some.”

Ethan strode to me. “Have there been any others?”

“What? No. Of course not. Look, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just more of the same. It’s the game he plays.”

With radiating fury, he moved back to the desk, threw the note onto it. “I can’t believe you hid this from me.”

I hadn’t, not very well. But if anything, this conversation proved I’d been right to try. “He’s baiting you, Ethan. And I’m not going to let that happen.”

“He’s threatening you. And I’m not going to let
that
happen!” He turned back to me. “Reed’s going to be at a charity event tonight at the Chicago Botanic Garden. We’re going. And we’re going to have a word.”

“No. Absolutely not. That’s the last thing—” I stopped, realizing what he’d confessed. “Wait. How do you know where Adrien Reed is going to be tonight?”

“That’s missing the point.”

“No,” I said, rising from the bed and walking toward him. “I think that’s exactly the point. How do you know where he’s going to be?”

Ethan’s eyes glinted like stolen emeralds. “I have friends in high places, too.”

My stomach sank, and I took a step backward. Took a step away from him. I only knew one other person he might have called who knew about charity events and hated Adrien Reed. “You called my father.”

Ethan didn’t respond.

“You called my father and asked him, what, to keep tabs on Reed? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? To involve him in something like that? He’s human, for God’s sake, and he’s already in Reed’s sights. Did you put a target on his back?”

“I made a single phone call to your father, and I understand he made a single phone call in turn. Your father has his own connections, Merit, and he’s eager to use them. He’s a man with a lot of ego, and he’s not happy about Towerline.” He closed the distance between us. “But more important, Reed already got too close to this House and to you. I won’t let it happen again.”

“By putting my family in danger?”

He looked baffled. “First, I did not put your family in danger. And second, I will use whatever tools are available to me to keep you safe.”

“And yet you’re pissed at Gabriel,” I said, shaking my head and walking to the other end of the room. When I reached the opposite wall, when space was a barrier between us, I looked back at him. “You’re pissed at Gabriel because he withheld information. That’s ironic.”

“I suppose we’re both guilty in that respect. And just as likely to apologize.”

The room went quiet.

My anger banked. “You named me Sentinel. You should trust me to handle myself, to understand whether my father would be the best source. To let me make that decision.”

“I do trust you. Implicitly. And I named you Sentinel because I knew what you could be. Who you could be. If I had it to do over again . . .”

It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested naming me Sentinel was a mistake. But it was the first time I really believed he meant it.

“Your skills, your brains, your heart. The fact that you always want to do more and better—”

“Are because you named me Sentinel,” I finished for him. “Because you gave me a position that let those parts of me grow and flourish.”

“I don’t disagree,” Ethan said, stepping forward. “But none of that matters if Reed puts a target on you. I won’t let that happen, Merit. Not when he’s already proven he knows how to get to me.” His eyes clouded with fury. He was thinking about the Imposter, about what he’d done to me and tried to do to Ethan.

“I can’t be less than what I am,” I said. “Not now. Not after all this time.” Because, after all that time, after feeling for so long that I’d only been playing Sentinel, putting on a costume that wasn’t entirely mine, I’d
become
her. I’d become the guardian and warrior he’d wanted me to be. It was too late for me to step back, to let others fight the battles I’d been trained for, that I was now eager to fight.

Maybe he should have been more careful in what he’d wished for.

“I know. And I can’t, either. I’m going to the event,” he said into the silence that followed his declaration, “and I’m going to talk to Adrien Reed because that’s what needs to be done. Reed expects us to play his game—to react to the stimuli that he throws at us.”

“You think he didn’t anticipate this? That you’d see the note and call him out?”

“Maybe,” Ethan said. “Probably. But I doubt he thinks we’ll do it in a public place.”

I didn’t think that was true, not at all. But there wasn’t a point in arguing with him. He’d go, even if he went without me. And I’d be damned if he did it without me.

“I want it on record that I don’t think this is the right course.”

His eyebrows lifted. I argued with him, sure, but that was ego and banter. It wasn’t often that I told him his strategy was flat-out wrong.

“But that doesn’t matter,” I said. “Because I’m going with you regardless.” And that was almost not the worst part. “What do I have to wear?”

“It’s black tie. I’ll find you something.”

That was just what I was afraid of.

•   •   •

I guess it could have been called a gown, although that might have been generous. Couture, definitely. Edgy, certainly. But “gown” just didn’t quite fit.

There were two pieces two it, both in the deep, rich black that Ethan preferred. The first was a stiff black romper—a heart-shaped sleeveless bodice that fit as snugly as a corset and ended in a pair of hot-pant-style shorts. They covered what they needed to cover, but just barely.

And that was where the second piece came in. It was a skirt made of layers of inky black silk, one of Ethan’s favorite fabrics. It connected to the romper at the waist but was open in the front. When I stood still, it looked like I was wearing a sleeveless black ball gown. But when I moved, the silk split, revealing the shorts, my legs, and the black, strappy stiletto sandals Ethan had also provided.

I walked to the other end of the apartment, did the full catwalk toward the floor-length mirror on the way back, watched the skirt flare around and behind me as I moved. It was going to be hard to stay pissed at him in a “dress” that looked this good. It fit like a glove, made my legs look a million miles long, and even managed to pump up my slender curves.

I pulled my hair into a knot at the nape of my neck, added delicate pearl earrings that were part of my own family’s legacy, and looked, as I often did when Ethan selected my ensemble, pretty fabulous.

He was an imperious ass, but he knew how to make an impact.

There were
whoops
of excitement coming from the open doors of the Ops Room.

When I looked in, Luc, tousled hair falling over his brow, was bent over the conference table. In front of him was a small bundle of paper folded into a triangle. Lindsey sat at the other end, elbows on the table, her fingers and index fingers arranged in a set of mock uprights. He balanced the tip of the triangle beneath one finger, then flicked.

While half a dozen guards looked on, waiting with bated breath, the paper football flew through the air, toward the uprights. The paper hit her right index finger, bounced, and hit the table, three inches short of the goal.

“It’s no good! It’s no good!” yelled Brody, a recent guard inductee, waving his long arms back and forth like an NFL ref. Lindsey stood up and high-fived Kelley and Juliet.

Luc raised his fists to the sky.
“No!”
he yelled dramatically. “I could have been a contender!”

On the Waterfront,
I guessed silently. Luc was one for movie quotes.

Lindsey strutted up to him, chin jutted out with pride. “I believe you just got schooled,” she said, poking a finger into his chest.

“Best two out of three?” he asked, wincing.

“Not on your life.” She took his shoulders, turned him toward me. “You have other things to deal with.”

Luc glanced at me, and what would have been a smile faded when he took in the dress and the shoes. And then he looked downright pissed . . . and maybe a little bit sympathetic.

“Damn,” Kelley said, interrupting whatever tirade he’d been about to make.

“You look amazing,” she said, fingering a bit of the skirt. “Is this Valentino?”

I hadn’t even thought to look. “I don’t know. But I’m sure it was expensive.”

She snorted. “Uh, yeah. Very.”

When she walked back to her station, Luc dropped his voice. “What the hell is this?”

“Complicated. Can I speak to you outside?”

Luc didn’t look thrilled about the request. But he rose, followed me to the door, and closed it when we were outside again. And then he crossed his arms.

“You’re getting pretty good at that Master-to-Peon expression,” I said.

“I’ve been on the receiving end plenty of times. What the hell’s he doing?”

No need to explain who “he” was.

“Long story short, Reed wrote a note to me to inflame Ethan, and it worked perfectly. Ethan wants to confront Reed at a charity thing tonight at the Botanic Garden.”

He eyes flashed, and anger flooded the hallway on a wave of magic. “Excuse me?”

“You know what I know. I can’t stop him, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him go alone. And that’s not all.”

I told him about Ethan’s call to my father, watched his face for a sign he knew about it. I didn’t see it. Instead he looked surprised and a little appalled. “Not a good idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. But it’s done now. Is there something we can do? Protection we can offer?”

“Do you think your father would take it?”

“I don’t know. What about the human guards? Could we post a couple near his house?”

Luc put a hand on my arm. “Sentinel, considering how angry you are at Ethan for talking to your father without checking with you first, do you really think it’s a good idea to put guards on your father without talking to
him
first?”

I curled my lip. “Don’t try to use logic against me.”

“Perish the thought. Look, why don’t I talk to your grandfather, broach the issue with him? He might have a better sense of, let’s say, the proprieties.”

Some of the pressure in my chest loosened. “I’d appreciate it.”

Luc nodded. “This screws my plan for you to help Paige with the alchemy tonight. We need to focus on translating it.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. Unfortunately, using that metaphor, Ethan’s the bishop. He makes the rules, and I can’t just let him go by himself.”

“What do you think Reed’s got in mind?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s got a plan. That’s the kind of man he is. Even when we’re aggressive, like with Hellriver, he’s still two steps ahead of us.”

“He’s the bad guy; they usually are two steps ahead until they’re caught.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’m going to try to keep Ethan out of trouble.”

“Do your best,” he said. “And I’m glad you came to me, told me about it. I’m pissed he didn’t, but he’s one of the more stubborn among us.”

“Stubborn barely scratches the surface,” I said, thinking of the night before at Little Red. “Have you heard anything from Gabriel? From the Pack?”

Luc’s expression darkened. “No, although we wouldn’t necessarily. I guess that’s Ethan’s complaint. At this point, not hearing anything is probably best. Means they haven’t declared war against us.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

Luc didn’t look as convinced. “It wouldn’t be the first instance of internecine warfare.”

“I know. And I know Ethan’s pissed, and Gabriel’s probably pissed now, too. But they’re both adults. They both want what’s best for their people, and that can’t be war with each other, Luc. It can’t.” My voice had become pleading.

“Let’s hope not, Sentinel. Damn. What a night. Ethan’s probably talking to Malik, but I’ll throw myself onto that grenade if he hasn’t.”

Resigned, I nodded and began walking toward the door to the parking garage. But I glanced back at Luc. “Do me one more favor?”

“Anything, Merit.”

“Call the lawyers, and get them ready.”

•   •   •

The Botanic Garden had been—and still was—a beautiful place to visit. But I knew this trip wasn’t going to go well, and the paths and gardens were still shadowed by my memories.

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