“Inevitably,” I murmured, and fell into sleep.
Chapter Five
YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A NATURAL VAMPIRE
Many hours later, the sun crept below the horizon again, leaving the world dark, quiet, and cool. My eyes flashed open as the automatic shutters retracted, sending the orange glow of streetlights into the room.
I glanced beside me. Ethan’s eyes were closed, his body resting atop a tangle of sheets—one leg bent, one arm thrown above the other, brow furrowed. A sheen of sweat covered his body, and there was a stale, lingering magic in the air.
It wasn’t hard to guess the reason for his distress. I touched the back of my hand to his forehead. Clammy, but cool.
“I’m awake,” he said, eyes still closed.
“You’re usually up before me.”
“I slept like the dead—no pun intended.” He opened one eye, cast a glance down the length of his body. “And part of me is up.”
“We haven’t talked about Balthasar,” I said, avoiding the direction of his gaze, lest I become glamoured by the promise of it.
“Not exactly how I’d prefer to get into the mood. Come here, Sentinel,” he said, and waited while I climbed atop his body, hard beneath me.
His eyes as green as glass, Ethan rocked his hips enticingly. “I can make you forget everything that worries you.”
“I worry for you,” I said, but let him slip my shirt over my head, let my head fall back when his hands found my breasts. Tension slipped from my shoulders as his hands worked cleverly to entice and arouse.
“We are immortal,” he said huskily, eyes silver and focused on my breasts. “Let us live like it.” He pulled me down toward him, tangled his hands in my hair as his mouth found mine, attacked with brutal force, willing to give no quarter. His tongue probed and tangled as his teeth nipped at my lips, his body growing impossibly harder beneath me as he deepened the kiss.
“I want you,” he whispered, before trailing kisses along my neck. “Jesus, but I want you. Stand up.”
“What?” I asked, brows lifted.
“Stand up.”
It wasn’t easy to stand on the mattress, but I managed it. I’d been standing only for a second when he bared the rest of me.
And then sat up, and his mouth was at my core, and my muscles went so lax I had to brace a hand against the wall in front of me to stay upright.
Hands on my hips, he pulled my body toward him as he devoured me. I fisted my hand in his hair, called out his name as pleasure hit me like a shock of lightning.
“Ethan.”
Again, Sentinel. His mouth and hands continued to taunt and torture, until I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep standing. He didn’t stop until I’d climaxed again.
“Knees,” he ordered. And I gratefully complied, lowering quivering thighs as I situated my body atop his.
Ethan stripped himself of clothing, rocked his body upward, seating himself firmly inside me, then growled deep in his throat, a rumble strong enough to vibrate the bed beneath us.
He raked his gaze along my body, from strong shoulders to breasts, abdomen to thighs, to the junction where our bodies were joined. I loved watching his eyes, watching his silvered irises cloud with lust and arousal, watching his face go utterly blank when pleasure rocked him, hearing his possessive and primal groans. Ethan was undeniably gorgeous at any time of day, waking or sleeping. But when the veil of desire covered him, he was magnificent.
His lip curled with focus, his hands found my hips, long fingers squeezing my hips as I began to move, savoring the sensation of his body around mine, within mine, both of us becoming more than we’d been, because we were together. His hips lifted to meet mine, eyes narrowed, contorted with pleasure. Perhaps, I thought, I’d give him something to see.
I cupped my breasts, nipped my lip between my teeth coquettishly, watched his eyes widen in surprise, delight, arousal. His hips moved faster, pushed upward as I rocked above him, spinning my hips and watching as his eyes darkened. Sweat gleamed across his chest, his breathing harsher, faster, as his pace quickened further. I took his wrist, lifted it to my mouth, touched my tongue to the spot above his rocketing pulse.
“Merit,” he said hoarsely, and, as his body rocked upward, I bit.
* * *
We lazed in bed, lying beside each other for a little while longer until Ethan glanced at the clock, sighed. “We need to get moving. The party starts in two hours.”
It took me a moment to remember what he was talking about, that we’d promised my father attendance at Reed’s party, and that I was going to have to wear a dress and fancy heels. I’d need to figure out a way to carry my phone and, if not my katana, a dagger.
I’d also need to check in with Luc and, in case he hadn’t already heard, update Jonah, the captain of the Grey House guards, about Balthasar’s appearance.
Jonah was also my partner in the Red Guard, a secret corps of vampires who kept an eye on the Masters and the reigning council, now the AAM, to make sure they didn’t infringe the rights of Novitiates. We hadn’t spoken much since Nicole’s GP revolution, as we’d both been busy helping our Masters with the transition. And, frankly, I’d been stung by RG comments that if Ethan had gained control of the GP, I was too enamored to keep an eye on him. I wasn’t looking forward to rehashing the love-makes-girls-dumb argument.
“How long is the line?”
I picked up my phone, scanned for Luc’s now-nightly announcement for the number of vampires who’d requested an audience with Ethan. Ethan was the only Chicago Master who’d agreed to provide an audience to Rogues, vampires who weren’t affiliated with a particular House. That drew a lot of Midwestern vampires to Cadogan’s gate.
“Only seven tonight,” I reported back, and sent Luc the party details while I was thinking about it.
Ethan sighed. “I still won’t be able to get to them all.”
“If you don’t, they’ll come back. And there’s a safe house if they need shelter in the meantime.” We wouldn’t house all the vampires who showed up at the door, so Ethan and Malik had established a boardinghouse down the block where traveling vampires could safely seek refuge while they waited for an audience with the Master.
I put aside the phone, glanced back at Ethan. “Balthasar.”
“That isn’t a question.”
“It’s a topic of discussion, which you’re avoiding.” I wrapped the sheet around myself, rose to sit on my knees so I could see his face, which was unreadable.