Friday Night Bites (Chicagoland Vampires, #2)

by Chloe Neill

I’ll admit that he’s kind of offensively delicious.” “Like salt-and-vinegar potato chips.”

I liked Morgan, sure. He was funny, charming, intelligent, and ridiculously pretty. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was dating him from behind a wall of detachment, that I hadn’t fully let my guard down.

Probably the sexy master vampire that turned you.

You are a Cadogan vampire. You are Sentinel of this House. When you walk into a room filled with those people, you will know that you are not one of them—you are more than they are. You are a vampire, of an historic house, in an historic position. You are powerful and well connected, if not because of your father, then because of your grandfather. You are nothing more, and nothing less, Merit, than exactly who you are. The question is not can you do it, but will you choose to do it?”

I could feel the vampire inside me, something separate inside me, like we hadn’t quite fused together. My three-day genetic change was supposed to turn me—fully and completely—into a vampire, fangs and silvering eyes and all. I didn’t understand it, how I could be vampire—the craving for blood, the nocturnal schedule, the fangs and heightened senses—and still feel the separateness of the vampire, a ghost in my machine.

“Liege,” I said crisply, an allowance of his authority, and a reminder of exactly what our respective positions were. If he could put me in my place, I could remind him of his.

she was all wrong for him.” “Why’s that?” “Ethan needs someone different than that. He needs a girl who’ll stand up to him, who’ll challenge him. Someone to make him better, more. Not someone who’ll kiss his ass twenty-four/seven and bow to every little suggestion he makes.” She eyed me speculatively.

That’s 1883, not 1983, for those of you following along at home.

“The acronym for the Order of sorcerers is ‘U-ASS’?”

The speech had the ring of old-school practitioner complaining about the way things had changed since his time, when he had to walk uphill both ways to get to school, etc., etc.

I stared forward, shocked at the admission, that he’d share this info—this weakness—with me. The girl he’d asked to be his Consort. The girl who’d refused him. The girl who’d witnessed, firsthand, his betrayal by Amber. The girl who’d seen the look on his face when Amber confessed her sin, her involvement in Celina’s conspiracy. The girl who’d felt the thrust of Celina’s glamour, and powered through it. But so had he.

“I need food.” “You always need food.”

“Thank you,” I told him. Wrapped burger in hand, he pulled onto the road again, and we resumed our journey back to Hyde Park. “For what?” “For changing me.” He paused. “For changing you?” “Yeah. I mean, I’m not saying there hasn’t been an adjustment period—” Ethan snorted as he reached into the box of onion rings perched between us. “That’s rather an understatement, don’t you think?” “Give me a break, I’m trying to Gratefully Condescend.”

The library was square, rising through the second and third floors. Three high-arched windows illuminated the room. An intricate railing of crimson wrought iron bounded the upper floor, which was accessible by a spiral staircase of the same crimson metal. Tables topped by brass lamps with green shades filled in the middle. The walls—floor to ceiling—were lined in books. Big and small, leather-bound and paperback, all of them divided into sections—history, reference, vampire physiology, even a small group of fiction titles. “Oh. My. God.”

“I died for beauty, but was scarce adjusted in the tomb, when one who died for truth was lain in an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? ‘For beauty,’ I replied. ‘And I for truth—the two are one. We brethren are.’ ”

I wasn’t sure where his speech had been going, maybe just an acknowledgment of vampire history, but it felt like he wasn’t sharing everything he might have. Something waited on the cusp. Whatever it was, he shook it off, blanked his expression, and assumed the tone of Master vampire.

I found myself standing on the lawn of a Hyde Park mansion of vampires, staring up at the stone-framed visage of a boy in Armani, an enemy who’d become an ally. Ironic, I thought, that I’d given up one ally today, but gained another.

“How was your date with Ethan last night?” I should have known that was coming. “It wasn’t a date.” “Whatevs. You’re hot for teacher.” “We were in the library.” “Oh, nookie in the stacks. Figures you’re the type to have that fantasy, grad school and all.”

“You show me professional, and I’ll show you professional.” Luc snorted, but his expression was gleeful. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know professional if it bit you on the ass.” “I prefer my bites in other places.” “Is that an invitation?” “If only you were so lucky, cowboy.” “Lucky? Hooking up with me would be the luckiest day of your life, Blondie.” “Oh, please.”

I was trying, as hard as I could, to fight without fighting. To tamp down that coursing rush of adrenaline and anger that would bring her to the surface—in front of a crowd of combat-trained vampires. And loosing a half-formed vampire into the world, and in front of an audience, couldn’t be a good thing.

Just fucking merge already. I swear this is some bullshit did fuckery.

“She has, like, fourteen kinds of lotion.” He had trouble getting out the words, his shock and chagrin at Mallory’s moisturizer stockpile apparently that intense. Mallory waved her glass at me. “Tell him.” “Women moisturize,” I reminded him. “Different lotions for different body parts, different scents for different occasions.” “Different thicknesses for different seasons,” Mallory added. “It’s pretty complicated, actually.” Catcher dumped a cutting board of trimmed asparagus into a steamer pot. “It’s lotion. I’m pretty sure science has advanced to the point that you can buy a single bottle that will take care of all that.” “Missing the point,” I said. “He’s missing the point,” Mallory parroted. “You’re totally missing the point.” Catcher snorted and turned to face us, arms crossed over a Marquette T-shirt. “You two would agree that the world is flat if it meant you could gang up on me.”

“Catch, you’re a boy. I’ve known you for like a week.” Two months, actually, but who was counting? “I’ve known Merit for years. I mean, the sex is great and all, but she’s my BFF.”

“Hey, did Morgan ever—Oh, dear God.” Morgan’s head popped up, and we both looked to find Mallory just outside the kitchen door, hands over her eyes. She waved. “Uh, hi, Morgan. Hi. Oh, God. Sorry,” she sputtered, and immediately turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen. I grinned happily. “And now she knows what it feels like.”

Morgan and Catcher said their manly hellos—consisting of a symbolic head bob from Catcher (of the “You’re in my lair now” variety) and a responding nod from Morgan (of the “You are clearly the king of this castle” variety).

“Oh, she has tons of secrets,” Mallory confided, with a grin to me. “And I know all of them.” Morgan, one arm slung on the back of his chair, made a beckoning movement with his free hand. “Let’s go. Keep ’em coming.” “Mallory,” I warned, but she only laughed. “Well, let’s see. I bet you didn’t tell him about the secret kitchen drawer. You should clean that out while you’re over here.” Morgan sat up straight and slid a glance behind him at the kitchen door. “Secret kitchen drawer?” Then he looked back at me, winged up eyebrows. My answer was quick and vehement. “No.” He slid back his chair. “Morgan, no.” He was halfway to the kitchen before I was out of my chair, laughing as I rushed after him. “Morgan! Damn it, stop! She was kidding. There’s no such thing.”

Our lips had just touched when the silence was broken. “Would you please stop feeling up my Sentinel?”

Oooh, drama!

“Why me?” I asked him. He turned back to me, brow arched. “Excuse me?” His voice was frosty. Apparently, he was fully in Master and Commander mode. Lucky me. “Why are you here? You knew that I had plans tonight; you saw me leave. Luc was at the House when I left, as were the rest of the guards. They’re all more experienced than I am. You could have called one of them. Asked for their help.” And given me a break, I silently added. Given me a chance to get over the training session, to have a break from Celina and my father and vampire drama. To just be me. “Luc is busy protecting our vampires.” “Luc is your bodyguard. He swore an oath to protect you.” An irritated shake of his head. “You’re in this already.” “Luc was there when you explained the raves, helped you plan for my involvement, and I’m sure you’ve brought him up to speed about what we learned so far. He knows everything that I know.” “Luc was busy.” “I was busy.” “Luc isn’t you.”

he tipped his head down, silvered eyes boring into me, I swallowed down a rise of lust so thick and swift it tripped my heart. The sound of my heartbeat, the hollow thud of it, pounded in my ears. Ethan held out a hand, palm up, an invitation.

“Look. I know why you gave me that speech earlier today. I know you have an obligation to protect your vampires. But irrespective of the way that I was made, I have done everything that you’ve asked of me. I’ve taken training, I gave up my dissertation, I moved into the House, I got you in to see my father, I got you into the Breckenridge house, and I’ve dated the man you asked me to.” I pointed at the house behind us. “And even though I was supposed to get a few hours free from the drama of Cadogan House tonight with said man, I followed you here because you requested it. At some point, Ethan, you might consider giving me a little credit.”

“Oh, that’s classy, vampire. Forget about your old friends now that you’re all high society.” “I’m torn between two answers. First, the obvious one: I just saw you last night. Also acceptable: Were we friends? I thought I was using you for rent and gratuitous branding.”

“I need a motivational speech,” I told him. “It’s been a pretty awful night so far, and I’m fighting the urge to take a cab right back to Cadogan House and spend an intimate evening with a couple of deep-dish meat pies. I could use one of those ‘Do it for Cadogan!’ lectures you’re so fond of.”

“Would you like me to give you a few minutes with the tray?” I glanced up at Ethan, my fingers poised over another beef cube, and grinned. “Could you, just? We’d really like to be alone right now.”

“A man could do worse,” I agreed. “But could a vampire?” “If I find one, I’ll ask him.” The response was corny enough that I laughed aloud, full and heartily, and had the odd, heart-clenching pleasure of watching him smile back, watching his green eyes shine with the delight of it. No, I told myself, even as we danced, even as he smiled down at me, even as his hand at my waist, the warm weight of it, felt natural. I looked away, saw that the people around us watched us dance with obvious curiosity. But there was something else in their expressions—a kind of sweetness, like they were watching a couple’s first wedding waltz.

Oh no. They are both screwed.

I knew it was immature. I knew it was childish and wrong, but I was pissed, and I couldn’t help myself. I knew it was the one thing that as a Navarre vamp Morgan couldn’t do. But it was the perfect line, the perfect exit, and I couldn’t resist. I glanced back at him, silk swirling around my legs, and, single eyebrow raised, gave him the haughtiest look I could muster. “Bite me,”

“You’re a scholar.” I turned back to my book. “We’ve talked about this before. A few nights ago, if you’ll recall.” “We’ve talked about your social discomfort, your love of books. Not the fact that you’ve spent more time with a book in your hand than you have with your Housemates.” Cadogan House was apparently full of spies. Someone was reporting our activities to whoever had threatened Jamie, and someone had apparently been reporting my activities to Ethan. I shrugged self-consciously. “I enjoy research. And given the ignorance that you’ve repeatedly pointed out, I need it.” “I don’t want to see you hide yourself away in this room.”

“It means you’d have finished your dissertation, secured a professorship at some East Coast liberal arts college, and then what? You’d buy yourself a cottage and update that box on wheels you call a car, and you’d spend most of your time in your tiny office nitpicking antiquated literary conceits.”

That doesn’t sound that bad, tbh

His first move was the deadliest, a smile of boyish pleasure that transformed into the sexiest, most congratulatory grin I’d ever seen. It was a look of sheer predatory satisfaction, the look of a hunter who’d planned, schemed, and won his prize, who had the prey in his grasp.

Steamy!

big blue eyes,

A surprisingly high amount of people in this book have blue eyes. Interesting.

I realized I was halfway to lifting fingers to my lips, touching the place where we’d connected. Covering, I tapped a finger against my chin, hoping it looked intellectual.

Not very likely.

“It comes back to the Breckenridges,” Luc suggested. “There must be something we’re missing. Why this family? Why now? If the perp had information on Jamie, and they’re using it to get something out of the Brecks, why involve us? What’s the connection between the Brecks and vamps? Why the animosity?” Animosity. That was the word that did it, that forced the puzzle pieces into place. I thought about Nick’s questions outside the House, then the labyrinth. The tingle of magic, the hatred in his eyes. The movement in the underbrush, and the animal that stared back at me through the trees. The selfsame tingle I’d felt in Papa Breck’s office. The obvious prejudice, the hatred of vampires. Circling the wagons around Jamie, protecting him. “They aren’t human,”

Ethan stood again, pressed the medal to his lips, then tossed it into the Lake.

That seems weird. Why not keep it? I guess lingering magic, maybe?

I wanted what most people wanted—love, companionship. I wanted someone to touch. I wanted someone to touch me back. I wanted someone to laugh with, someone who would laugh with me, laugh at me.

I let her breathe. I let her out. She burst through my blood, the power of the vampire flowing through me, and as I kept my eyes on Celina, locked my limbs to keep from staggering back from the surge of it, I felt myself disassociate. I felt her move my body, stretch and test muscles inside my body—and sink into it. Merit disappeared. Morgan disappeared. Mallory disappeared.

“Are you laughing?” “No. Not laughing,” he assured me, then laughed uproariously.

It’s stupid, I know. I have this thing, this idea. This bullshit ‘Mr. Darcy’ idea, about the one that changes his mind. That comes back for me. And I’ll look up some night, and he’ll be there in front of me. And he’ll stare at me and say, ‘It was you. It was always you.’ ”

Vampires were creatures of evening, of frost, of moonlight-tipped architecture, and empty, dark streets. Shifters were creatures of earth, of sunlight, of sun-scorched savannahs and knee-deep grass. We flew; they ran. We analyzed; they acted. We drank; they devoured. Not enemies, but not the same.