House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,58

something different. I was part of that process, having gotten my fangs as a member of Cadogan, and now making the switch with the rest of them. But what, exactly, was I becoming?

I grabbed a towel and pressed it to my face, reluctant to go downstairs and join the other drama that was preparing to take over the House.

Nights like this made me wish I had an “undo” button, that I could simply rewind my actions or mistakes—or notice nosy vampires trailing me across town—and start fresh.

But that was impossible. What was done was done, and I was going to have to deal with it and the consequences like an adult. Instead of the twenty-seven-year-old cloistered graduate student I wished I were again.

I fixed my ponytail and applied some lip gloss, then brushed out my bangs until they shone. When I looked respectable again, and I’d locked my fear away, I walked downstairs to the first floor.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IMMORTALLY IRREVOCABLE

Ethan, Luc, and Malik were already downstairs, dressed to the nines in classic black suits. Ethan nodded when he caught sight of me.

I stepped into the foyer just as Darius and the rest of the GP walked into the House, once again in their birdlike V formation. Like members of a dance team, they each had a position to fill, although their routine was much more conniving.

As I slipped into the crowd of Cadogan vampires who’d also assembled to greet them, Lacey stepped up to say hello. That’s when the pleasantries began. Ethan had been right; however much I may have hated her, Darius definitely liked Lacey Sheridan.

“Lacey,” Darius said, his voice saccharine sweet. He held out his hands and took hers, and they exchanged back-and-forth-and-back European-style cheek kisses.

“Sire,” she said deferentially.

“You’re looking well,” he said, taking in her perfect black suit.

“As are you.” Her gaze traveled down the line of vampires who’d accompanied him, and she made eye contact with each.

I told you they had a bond, Ethan silently said.

So you did, I said. And clearly they do.

Lacey pressed her hands together, then lifted them to her forehead, an obvious show of Grateful Condescension. Or brownnosing.

“Sires, I am honored by your presence.”

“I doubt that sentiment is universal,” Darius said, looking back at Ethan, and an awkward silence fell.

“Darius,” Ethan said, and the word fell heavy like a gauntlet, or a challenge. Darius was still Ethan’s sire, his king, his commander, at least for a few more minutes, and calling him by his first name wasn’t exactly respectful.

Darius’s eyes narrowed. He’d taken the slap, and he didn’t like it. But then a smile blossomed, and that was even scarier.

“Ethan. Apparently we’ve chosen to act like peasants before the deed is done,” he said, the insult clear. “But no matter. Soon these issues will be resolved. Shall we get to it?”

“By all means,” Ethan said, extending a hand toward the back of the House.

I guessed he hadn’t forgotten all of his manners.

* * *

It was late and cold, but we were most definitely awake, Cadogan House’s vampires silent as we gathered together around the brick fire pit on the back lawn.

We’d been joined by about half of the Cadogan vampires who didn’t live in the House but wanted to show their support, our size swollen in solidarity against our future enemy. I recognized friends and colleagues in the crowd, but I found I couldn’t approach them. I felt like a betrayer, a violator of Ethan’s trust and the House’s. Separate from everyone else who wasn’t currently being blackmailed.

Across from us stood the vampires of the Greenwich Presidium. Numerically, we outnumbered them, but we radiated nervous energy, as if they held the power to destroy us with a flick of their hands.

They were all dressed professionally. Every one of them wore a suit of some sort, and to a one, their hands were clasped together in front of them, an angry jury ready to pronounce its verdict upon us.

Except that we’d already entered a plea in the metaphorical court. And tonight we were making it official.

“Who stands for this House today?” Darius asked.

“I do,” Ethan said, stepping forward.

The members of the GP exchanged looks of obvious surprise.

“You are not the Master of this House,” said a petite woman, gazing at him above the top of her glasses.

“I am the Master of this House by concession of its former Master and my formal reinvestment.” Ethan held out his hand, and Malik handed him the papers they’d signed and sealed last night.

Ethan held up the sheaf,