House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,86

looked over at her, I saw sadness in her face. My stomach fell, and I realized my error. “Oh, God, Catcher didn’t, you know, find someone else?”

“No. I mean, not that I deserve his even talking to me—or your doing so for that matter—after what I did. I just . . . I could understand it if he had, you know, done that.” Tears sprang to her lashes and she quickly wiped them away. “I left him in the middle of a crisis that I’d caused. Of course he needed comfort. Of course he needed a shoulder. I certainly hadn’t played that part for him.”

I blew out a breath. “Seriously, are we just incapable of not screwing up our relationships with people? Are we destined to do this for the rest of our lives?”

“Be screwed up?”

“Be screwed up and living with our shifter guardians or some crap like that, going to speed dating together because we can’t maintain healthy relationships.”

“If you get old and gray, I’ll be honest about your roots.”

“Vampires don’t get old or gray. I’m stuck with this hair forever.”

Mallory flopped back on the bed. “Woe is Merit, the immortal vampire with the never-gray hair and long legs and hot blond boyfriend.”

“Whose boyfriend has a hot, blond hanger-on?”

She chuckled and sat up again. “We’ve gone full circle with this.”

“What do I do, Mal? Seriously.”

“You apologized?”

I nodded.

“Then you do the only thing you can do, and the reason you’re here in the first place. You wait him out.”

“That is truly just the absolute worst.”

“It really, truly is.”

We sat in silence for a moment while the laughter evaporated and the weight of the world settled heavily on our shoulders again. “So this Cadogan House thing—do you think Gabriel has any dirt on Darius we could use to blackmail him?”

Mallory smiled sneakily. “Why, Merit, you sly girl. I am so proud that you’ve just asked that. It’s so . . . vampiric. But honestly, I have no idea. He’s downstairs, and you’re welcome to ask him. But I will warn you—it’s poker night.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you want to talk to a shifter on poker night, you must play cards with the boys.”

I arched an eyebrow at her.

She made an awful sound. “God, you’re already Mrs. Sullivan. Let’s go downstairs.”

I checked my phone; still no messages. I didn’t feel like there was any purpose to going back to the House without a solution, so I figured I might as well stay.

“Do I have to actually play poker?”

“You do. Fortunately, they will remain half-naked during the poker playing. If you like that kind of thing. Which obviously I don’t.”

* * *

I didn’t need magic to know she’d been lying about enjoying the half-naked poker playing. I, too, could use my eyeballs.

There were four of them at the table. All shifters, only three of them half-naked, but the well-sculpted view was worth it.

Gabriel, the only one wearing a shirt, was shuffling a thick, well-used deck of cards. “Kitten,” he said, sparing me a glance. “My brother Derek. I believe you’ve already met Ben and Christopher.”

Mrs. Keene had named her children alphabetically in reverse order, starting with Gabriel, the eldest. Adam, the youngest Keene sibling, had been handed over to the CPD after his failed attempt to wrest control of the Pack from Gabriel. Ben, Christopher, and Derek were the next-youngest three.

Ben and Christopher were as broad shouldered and tawny haired as their brother; they sat at Gabe’s left. Derek sat on his right. He had the same amber eyes as Gabriel, but darker hair and finer features. He must have taken after the other side of the family.

“Vampire?” Christopher wondered, eyes on the cards. “You running a way station for supernaturals in here, brother?”

“I have no need of a way station,” I assured him.

“The kitten has claws,” Derek said with masculine approval.

“Rawr,” I said.

“You fight the fairies yet, Kitten?” Gabriel asked.

“No. And that’s why I’m interrupting your game.”

Gabriel’s gaze flicked up to me, considered, then settled on the cards again. “Take a seat, ladies.” Gabriel’s magic was strong, and there seemed little doubt even that flick was meaningful.

“Can I ask about the shirts?” I asked, taking a seat beside Mallory. “Or the lack of shirts?”

“You may not,” Christopher said.

“Yes,” Gabriel mocked, “she may. Once again, the whelps have lost their shirts, Kitten. Literally and figuratively.”

Derek grumbled something unflattering.

Gabriel gave him a quick and withering glance. “Pipe down, or I’ll challenge you again, and we both know how that will work out.” He began flipping cards