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I wrapped my arms around him, sunk my fingers into his hair. His hand moved between us, found his arousal, pulled rhythmically as I drank.
That lasted only a moment. He put an arm around me, pulled my body against the rigid length of his, ground his hips against mine as he breathed through bared teeth against the pleasure of the bite.
I ignored the wrench of lace and fabric as he ripped the nightgown down the middle, exposing my body.
Merit. As he spoke to me with his mind and his body, his hands found my br**sts, fingers firm and insistent as I drank the life he offered. But it wasn’t just hunger that wracked me. I felt his blood move through me, giving me strength and life, and carrying with it his love, his magic, his strength.
He found my core and pushed forward. He filled my body doubly now, the sensation so intense, so utterly fulfilling, that my body immediately convulsed with pleasure, a warm wash of it that spread through my body like liquid fire.
I gripped his hair tighter, pulling, and dug the nails of my other hand into his back. Ethan. Jesus, Ethan.
He groaned deliciously, cursed in Swedish, picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulled his body closer to mine as we moved.
In the bedroom he went to his knees, braced hands and arms on the floor behind him, pushed his body upward into mine as I drank, took what he offered.
His movements quickened, and I drew away, licking the final drops away from the small dots where I’d drunk from him. I met his eyes, which swirled with silver, and pulled the long length of my hair away from my neck.
His eyes widened at the offer, one hand rising from the floor to trace a line down the center of my body, pausing at my breast. He cupped it, thumbing the nipple to delicious pain that made need rise, hot and covetous, all over again.
I traced a fingertip down the arch of my neck, across my collarbone. Ethan’s eyes shined with pleasure. He bared his fangs, put a hand behind my head and pulled me forward, then sunk teeth into the soft skin at my neck.
His other hand found my hip, pulling our bodies together as he drank and moved ferociously beneath me, a sheen of sweat slicking between our bodies.
Pleasure swamped me, a river that threatened to sink me completely. I gripped his shoulders as my body shook with it, as it sent him over, too.
Fuck, he silently said, ripping his mouth away from my neck, his lips still stained crimson, eyes unseeing and head thrown back as shudders wracked him. God, but he was a sight—a warrior in the throes of passion, body rigid and sheened with sweat.
Mine, I thought.
* * *
We ended up in a pile on the floor, chests heaving.
“Dear God, Sentinel. You may be the death of both of us.”
“That was . . . definitely something.”
“‘Supernatural’ is the only word I can think to describe it.”
I opened my eyes, pointed at the tattered fabric that lay across the bathroom floor. “That’s why vampires can’t have nice things.”
Ethan laughed hoarsely. “I’m not certain I’ll allow you to dress ever again. I may just keep you here and naked.”
“You did enjoy my wild side.”
“I enjoy all sides of you,” Ethan said, reaching out and grabbing my hand, linking our hands together. “But your wild side is particularly enjoyable.”
I am a vampire sex warrior, I thought, with much satisfaction.
* * *
I let Ethan shower and dress, and then I prepared for the evening, thinking leathers were more appropriate than jeans or a suit considering the night’s agenda.
I pulled on leather pants and my jacket, a bright red tank beneath, and my Cadogan medal. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, brushed my bangs until they gleamed, and accented my pale skin with a wash of blush on my cheekbones and red gloss that made my lips look bloodstained. The result was spooky but effective. I picked boots with the highest heels in my closet, tucked my dagger inside, and belted on my katana.
I checked the mirror before I left, straightening my ponytail and the short, motorcycle-style lapels of my jacket. I looked fierce, and a little otherworldly. That was, I thought, the best I’d be able to do today.
Sleep had done wonders for the House. Instead of fear, the House buzzed with energy and excitement. If they’d treated the psych testing like emotional battery, they seemed to anticipate the phys testing like a Super Bowl. And for good reason. They’d seen Ethan fight—in battles at the House, around the city, in sparring sessions with me and others. He was a skilled and capable fighter, wily and well trained.
A phone message from Luc directed me to Ethan’s office, so I made my way downstairs. The office door was cracked, and I found Luc, Lindsey, Malik, and Ethan filling plates from a wheeled cart.
“You’re just in time for breakfast,” Luc said, using tongs to pile bacon on a plate.
I moved inside, smiled at Ethan, who was pouring orange juice into a short glass. “Carb loading?”
“Fueling, anyway,” he said, handing the glass to me. “Good evening, Sentinel.”
I drank, studying him over the rim of the glass. He was in good spirits. Maybe he was also ready for the challenge.
I was hungry, so I loaded a plate with eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and took a seat.
“He’s on his way,” Luc whispered when I sat beside him. It had been a week of mysterious pronouns, but this mystery I could solve. “He” meant Amit, my secret ploy, my Hail Mary to win the game.
“These have been tense nights,” Ethan said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “And tonight is not likely to be any different. But I was recently reminded that vampires would hardly be well served by a process that didn’t help the strongest challengers rise to the top. Whatever happens tonight, I wish us all well.” He raised his glass. “To Cadogan House.”
“To Cadogan House,” we repeated, but my stomach felt leaden as I realized what he was doing. He might have felt good about the physical challenge—his mood said that clearly enough—but he’d gathered us together, offered us thanks, in case he didn’t return home tonight.
He was offering his good-byes.
I put down my cup again, glanced at Malik, wondering if he’d understood, if he’d prepared himself for the possibility he’d soon be in control of the House. I found his gaze on mine, sympathy and acceptance in his eyes. He knew, then, what Ethan was mentally prepared to do, accepted it as an inevitability, that he’d give his life in service of the House.
I’d have to talk to him, steal time away. If he believed there was a chance he wouldn’t come back, I’d be damned if we separated without a proper good-bye.
