Хлоя Нейл - Twice Bitten

Gabe held out his uninjured hand to Ethan. “Thank you again for your help. Your Sentinel does good work.”

They shook hands. “That she does,” Ethan said.

“Might be time to think about that raise.”

“Don’t push your luck, Sentinel.”

A girl had to try.

I’d stripped off my leather jacket when we returned to the Mercedes, the June heat providing more than enough insulation. But it took a few minutes of driving before I noticed the tiny nubbin in the pocket.

“Oh, damn,” I muttered.

Ethan looked over in alarm. “What?”

I reached into the jacket pocket, then pulled out the earpiece Luc had given me. “I totally forgot to use this.”

An eyebrow quirked up, Ethan reached inside his own jeans pocket and pulled out his earbud. I guess I hadn’t been the only forgetful vampire.

He offered me a secret smile. “Let’s not tell Luc about this, perhaps.”

“You know what else?”

“What’s that, Sentinel?”

“I also forgot my cabbage rolls.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was grinning when he did it. “You’ll have to live without them, because you couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that church.”

“Too much shifter tonight?”

“By a large degree, Sentinel. And the irony is, we’ve convinced them to stay.”

“Well, that’s kind of a victory, isn’t it?”

“Given our other options, I suppose so. You did good today, and I mean that sincerely. You showed a lot of bravery, and you executed well. Your work honors Cadogan House.”

Ethan’s tone was solemn, earnest. I’d heard his Master vampire tone of appreciation; this was different. More like affection than professional approbation. And since he was the one who’d pushed me away—something he’d undertaken at his own risk—I opted to ignore the undercurrent. Being rejected and trying to stay professional—pushing down my feelings to stay focused on the task at hand—was hard enough on its own. I couldn’t bear his remorse, too, and it wasn’t fair for him to try to use me to make himself feel better.

So I kept the mood light. “Least I could do.”

He shifted in his seat as if preparing a monologue. I thought quickly, then made my move. I turned on the radio, found a station playing a song I had to sing along with, then rolled down my window. I leaned an elbow on the door and turned my face to the wind, letting the city and the sound roll over me.

The rest of the ride was quiet.

Maybe he got the hint.

CHAPTER NINETEEN GIRLS’ NIGHT OUT When we arrived back at the House, Ethan gave me the final hours of darkness off, then headed to the Ops Room to update Luc.

I immediately headed to my room and into the shower to scrub off the residue of magic, then pulled on a T-shirt and yoga pants and made my way to the second-floor kitchen. The convocation had been draining—physically and emotionally. I finished off two pints of blood from the fridge’s stash before I felt balanced again.

When I was satiated—and after I’d texted Mallory to let her know Ethan and I had come through the convocation unscathed—I decided to check in on Linds.

It would have been just as easy to lock myself in my room with a book, but I was House social chair. No harm in making good on that promise.

I could hear her room before I could see it, as noise spilled out into the hallway from Lindsey’s open door. I peeked inside and found Margot, Lindsey, and Michelle preparing for what looked like a late evening on the town.

“Hey!” Lindsey said, waving from her spot in front of the mirror. “We were just about to come get you. Since you managed to kick some ass at the convocation”—the room broke into applause—“we’ve decided we’re sweeping you off to Temple Bar!”

“We want you to know we support you,” Margot said with a nod and a grin, raising a glass of red wine. “Especially since you’ve been very . . . um . . .”

“Ill-used?” Michelle offered.

Margot smiled slyly. “Thanks, ’Chelle. Ill-used.”

“It’s Cadogan-only night at Temple,” Lindsey said, “which means no humans and no Navarre vamps in attendance. So we’re gonna spend our final hours before dawn having a couple of drinks, unwinding, and generally having fun, no Masters allowed. And this isn’t an optional trip,” she added, when I opened my mouth to beg off.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Which is exactly why you need this,” Lindsey said.

“Is there any chance I’m getting out of it?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Then I guess I’m in.”

Lindsey winked but then frowned as she took in my loungewear. “First things first, the wardrobe.” She turned back to the other vampires and twirled a finger in the air. “Saddle up, then meet us in the lobby in twenty. The cabs should be there by then.”

When she’d cleared them all out, we walked back down to my room.

“So,” she said when she was finally perched in front of my open closet door, “this is the first time you’ve gone out with us since Commendation. It’s also the first time you’ve gone out since you were, you know . . .”

“Dumped? Thrown back? Replaced?”

“Is there a polite way to say it?”

“Not really. What’s your point?”

“My point is, the best revenge is a life well lived or whatever. That means you need to look completely, insanely fabulous, and you need to have a fantastic time.” She pulled a pale blue sleeveless shirt with a drapey neckline from a hanger, then grabbed a pair of straight-legged black pants. The outfit assembled, she turned back to me. “The place will be full of Cadogan vamps, and you know word travels. That means it’s time to teach him a lesson.”

I grimaced. I didn’t want to play the “teaching Ethan a lesson” game, especially since I was working on swearing him off, but I knew when I’d been beat.

I held out a hand, then opened and closed my fingers. “Gimme,” I said, then took the bundle and headed for the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I emerged ponytailed and lipsticked, my beeper clipped at my waist. Lindsey had demanded I wear my hair up. Combined with the drapey neckline, she’d explained, it was the vampire way of announcing that you were single . . . and that your carotid was available. I wasn’t much interested in looking for love, but I figured arguing the point would just take too long.

We headed downstairs where the rest of our entourage waited in equally trendy, neck-baring attire. Like a woman on a mission, Lindsey gave a hand signal, and we all dutifully filed outside. A line of black and white cabs was parked outside the House, ready to ferry us to Temple Bar. The official Cadogan House watering hole was situated in my favorite neighborhood, Wrigleyville, just blocks from Wrigley Field.

Paparazzi snapped pictures as we crammed into the cabs, and their comrades in arms were waiting outside the bar when we arrived fifteen gloriously traffic-free minutes later. (There were obvious advantages to doing most of your driving while most of the population was asleep.)

We were ushered into the bar, a PRIVATE PARTY sign on the door warning humans and others that they wouldn’t make the grade tonight.

Membership, I supposed, did have its privileges.

Even as late in the night as it was, the bar was still hopping, the two bartenders—Sean and Colin—passing out drinks while classic rock played on the stereo system. Lindsey led us through the crowd of vamps to a table marked RESERVED.

Unlike Cadogan House, Temple Bar lacked fine antiques and carefully chosen paintings. But it did have new and vintage Cubs gear of every shape and size—vintage jackets, pennants, bobble-head dolls. As you might imagine, I felt right at home.

We’d only just pulled out chairs and taken our seats when Sean popped up on the other side of the table. Like Colin, Sean was tall and lean, and he had short, ruddy hair framing an oval face and bright blue eyes. Sean was handsome in a kind of earnest, old-fashioned way, as if he might have stepped out of the photograph of a World War II battalion.