Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [121]
“Nervous, Sentinel?”
I nodded.
Ethan tilted his head, splaying his golden hair against the pillow behind him. “Don’t be. It is the most natural thing a vampire can do.” He took my hand and gazed down at my wrist, then rubbed his thumb over the pulse that throbbed just beneath my skin. The sensation sent flutters of warmth through me, but not just of desire. He gazed beyond my wrist as if staring at the blood and life that ran beneath it, his emerald eyes silvering as the hunger for blood hit him.
I’d never given blood to anyone before. I’d taken it from Ethan, but that was the extent of it. Eight months ago, could I possibly have imagined this would be my first experience? That I would be sitting here, with Ethan, in his apartment, ready to offer up a wrist?
He pressed his lips to my pulse, and my eyes drifted shut, my body now humming with predatory interest, my own fangs descending. “Ethan.”
He made a faint sound of masculine satisfaction, and I shivered when he kissed my wrist again.
“Be still,” he said, his lips against my skin. “Be still.”
It had been a night for tears. For losing a friend, hopefully only temporarily, to magical addiction. For my own reunion with Ethan. But whatever those emotions, they paled in comparison to the reunion shared by Ethan and Malik.
When Ethan was fed and I’d advised Luc, Malik made his trip upstairs, his eyes as wide as saucers. He looked between me and a stronger-looking Ethan—still resting on the bed—trying to figure out the magic or trick at work. It took him a few minutes to even attempt words.
They’d known each other for a century. It stood to reason the reunion would be meaningful.
And when the reunion was done, as if nothing had passed between them, it didn’t take them long to get down to politics.
“The GP sent a receiver,” Malik said.
“They didn’t waste much time,” Ethan muttered. “Who did they select?”
“Franklin Cabot.”
“From Cabot House? Good lord.” Ethan grimaced. “That man is a worm. Victor would be better off if he met a stake of his own. How bad has it been?”
Malik glanced at me, as if checking in before burdening Ethan with too much bad news. But I knew Ethan well enough to presume he wouldn’t want to be coddled. I gave Malik a nod.
“I’ll give you the short list,” Malik said. “He put the House on blood rations. He revoked the right to drink in the House. He has limited their right of assembly. He revoked Merit’s status as Sentinel and sent her to see Claudia. He subjected the guards to a sunlight endurance test.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I am at a loss.”
“He is incompetent,” Malik said. “Out of respect for the House and the GP I gave him room to conduct his investigation. But he has gone too far.” Malik cleared his throat. “I heard him on the telephone a few hours ago advising Darius that Cadogan vampires had been in league with a sorceress to destroy the city. I had planned to address the issues with him before the Midway occurred, but now that you’re back . . .”
Silence, as Ethan considered. My shoulders tense, I waited for a response, expecting a blowup of temper or carefully modulated fury.
“Screw them,” Ethan finally said.
After a moment of utter shock, I enjoyed my second biggest smile all night. Malik’s wasn’t much smaller.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “did you just say ‘screw them’?”
Ethan smiled grimly. “It’s a new dawn, so to speak. I don’t give the GP a lot of credit, but they’re smart enough to recognize incompetence when they see it.” He looked fixedly at Malik. “And if they don’t, they defeat their very purpose for existence.”
He hadn’t exactly used the word “revolution,” but it lurked there—the possibility that Cadogan House could exist without the GP.
Maybe my RG membership wouldn’t freak him out as much as I’d thought.
Not that I had any plans to tell him.
“You seem . . . somewhat changed,” Malik carefully said.
“I’m on my third life,” Ethan said. “And in