House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,101

salt on the table, then put my water glass over the salt.

“What’s that for?”

I smiled a little. “It’s supposed to keep the glass from sticking to the table if you don’t have a coaster. I don’t know the science of it or if it even works. I’ve just seen it done.”

“Hmm,” he said, then mimicked my movement and sprinkled salt on the table in front of him. “We’ll test the theory and see if it works.” He glanced up at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Tired.”

I could see a hint of sadness in his eyes, too. He’d reached the end of an era, and certainly the end of Ethan’s particular brand of international strategy.

“You’re mourning, aren’t you?”

He looked up at me. “Mourning?”

“You’re grieving about leaving the GP, not being involved in international machinations. Your world—the House’s world—is contracting. You aren’t thrilled about that.”

“I am a very strong Strat,” he said. Vampire strengths were divided into categories—psychic, physical, strategic—and levels—very weak, weak, strong, and very strong. Ethan was as strategic as they came, quite literally.

“It will be a different kind of politicking from here on out,” he admitted, pausing while the waitress placed plates in front of each of us.

We checked out our meals. It was clear after a moment that Ethan was coveting my stack of hash browns, biscuits, and gravy; frankly, his patty melt looked pretty delicious, too.

“Switch?” I asked.

“I knew I loved you for a reason,” he said, switching our plates’ positions and diving into the biscuits and gravy with the abandon of a starved man. Not that there was anything wrong with a patty melt. It was hot and greasy and just the right balance of salty and cheesy.

I flipped the bread from my sandwich and doused the meat with ketchup—an abomination to some, but delicious to me. I also poured a separate puddle for my fries. When the ketchup bottle was in place again and I’d settled my sandwich in hand, I took a bite, and then another, and another. We ate quietly and companionably, two emotionally exhausted vampires struggling for energy.

When I’d finished off half my sandwich, I took the paper wrapper from my napkin and folded it lengthwise into a thin strip, and then around into a ring, tucking the ends together. I handed it to him. “Now you have a memento of this wonderful date at Chris’s Broiler.”

“Sentinel, are you giving me a ring?”

“Only the temporary kind.”

After glancing at the check, Ethan pulled his long, thin wallet from his interior coat pocket, slid out bills, and placed them on the table. Minutes later, we were in the car, driving home again.

* * *

We’d only just parked my car when Lindsey ran out to meet us on the sidewalk.

“You need to get inside,” she said. “Margot’s hurt.”

A bolt of adrenaline sent me running down the sidewalk, Ethan’s footsteps behind me.

When I stepped into the House, I stopped short. Malik stood in the middle of the foyer, Margot in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and there was a smear of blood around her neck.

Holding in a scream, I covered my mouth with a hand.

Malik carried Margot into the sitting room and laid her carefully on the couch, brushing the hair back from her eyes. Her chef’s jacket was red with blood from a gash on her neck.

“Is Delia here?” Ethan asked.

“Delia?” I asked.

“She’s a doctor,” Malik said. “And a friend of Aaliyah’s.” Aaliyah was Malik’s wife. “She usually works a split shift. I’m not sure if she’s in the House.”

“Someone get her,” Ethan snapped.

“I’ll do it,” said one of the vampires behind us, rushing out of the room.

“What happened?” I asked, falling to my knees beside the couch. Someone handed me a scarf, and I pressed it to Margot’s neck to stanch the bleeding.

My heart pounded, my fear and anguish matched only by the fury I felt on Margot’s behalf. Someone hurt Margot. My friend. My culinary ally.

But not just hurt—someone had tried to kill Margot. And given the wound at her neck—an unsuccessful decapitation?—our serial killer was the number one suspect.

“I was talking to her a minute ago in my office,” Malik said. “She was asking me about kale. She said there were winter vegetables outside in the garden and she was going to pick some things. I don’t know what happened after that. Next thing I know, she’s stumbling into my doorway.”

Ethan’s eyes went silver. “Someone attacked here? In my home?”

Now our attacker wasn’t just a Navarre vampire, but a Cadogan vampire,