THE KING AND I

The next night bloomed warm and clear. The house was quiet when I emerged downstairs, beeper and sword in hand. I nabbed a bottle of juice from Mallory's refrigerator, avoiding the last bag of blood, the drinking I'd done last night either satiating me fully or putting me off the taste completely.

Not that it had been horrible.

Because it hadn't been horrible.

And that was the thought that played over and over again in my head as I drove south again - just how unhorrible it had been.

My beeper sounded just as I pulled in front of the House. I unclipped it, found MTG @

U. NOW. BLRM scrolling on the display.

Charming. The entire House was being called to discuss my punishment, I presumed, given that the meeting was being held in the House's ballroom, rather than somewhere, I don't know, more intimate? Like Ethan's office? With only me and him in attendance?

Grumbling, I parked and closed up the car, thinking I wasn't exactly dressed for public humiliation in my leftover jeans and fitted black T-shirt. My Cadogan suit had been shredded; I wore the fanciest thing still in my closet at Mal's house. I had to pause outside the gate, not quite ready for the onslaught.

"Quite a show."

I looked up, found the RDI guards looking at me curiously. "Pardon me?"

"Last night," the one on the left offered. "You wreaked a good bit of havoc."

"Unintentionally," I dryly said, shifting my gaze back to the House. Normally I'd have been thrilled to get conversation out of the usually silent guards, but not on this topic.

"Good luck," said the one on the right.

I offered as appreciative a smile as I could muster, took a breath, and went for the door.

I could hear the sounds of the meeting as I climbed the stairs to the second-floor ballroom. The first floor had been quiet, but the echo of ambient vampire noise -

conversations, coughing, shuffling - drifted down from the ballroom.

The doors were open when I reached it, a mass of Cadogan vampires inside. There were ninety-eight who resided in the House, and I guessed at least two-thirds of the group were here. Ethan, once again in his crisp black suit, stood alone on the short riser at the front of the room. Our gazes met and he held up a hand, silencing the vampires.

Heads turned, eyes on me.

I swallowed, gripped the sword I still held in my hand, and walked inside. I couldn't bear to look at them, to see if their gazes were accusatory, insulted, fearful, so I kept my eyes on Ethan, the crowd parting around me as I walked through the room.

I didn't deny that, as Master, he needed to deal with me, to dole out punishment for what I'd done, for challenging him - for the second time - in his own House. But was the ceremony necessary? Was my humiliation in front of most of the vampires in the House necessary?

The final vampires separated, and I found consoling eyes in Lindsey, who offered a compassionate smile before turning to face Ethan. I walked to the riser, stood before him, and gazed up.

He looked back at me for a moment, expression carefully blank, before lifting his gaze to the crowd. He smiled at them, and I moved to the side so as not to block the view.

"Didn't we just do this?" he asked with a grin. The vampires laughed appreciatively. My cheeks blossomed with heat.

"I debated," he told them, "whether to offer a lengthy dissertation on why last night's events occurred. The biological and psychological precursors. The fact that Merit defended me against an attack by one of our own. And speaking of which, I regret to inform you that Peter is no longer a member of Cadogan House."

Vampires gasped, whispers trickling through the crowd.

"But most importantly," he said, "the attack by Celina Desaulniers that directly led to the incident here. I will preface my conclusions by advising you all to be aware of your surroundings. While it's possible that Celina has chosen a single target, she may have a vendetta against Cadogan vampires, Chicago vampires, Housed vampires in general. If you're away from the grounds, be careful. And if you hear anything with respect to her activities or her movement, contact me, Malik, or Luc immediately. I am not asking you to be spies. I am asking you to be careful, and not squander the immortality with which you've been gifted."

A rumbling of dissonant Liege's echoed through the room.

"And now to the matter at hand," he said, gaze falling on me again. "I am not sure what good it would do to tell you that I trust Merit. That despite the fact that she has challenged me twice, she has saved my life and provided invaluable services to this House."

I had to work to keep the shock from my face, that being quite an announcement to make to a roomful of vampires who'd seen what I'd done.

"You will make up your own minds. She is your sibling, and you must make up your own minds, reach your own conclusions, just as you would for any other member of this House. That said, it can be difficult to make up your minds when you hardly have an opportunity to see her."

Okay, I liked that first part, but I wasn't crazy about where this was going.

"It has been brought to my attention that it would be beneficial to host a House mixer of sorts, to allow you to meet each other socially, to get to know each other outside the bonds of work or duty."

Lindsey, I thought. The traitor. I gritted my teeth and slid a glance behind me to where she stood, grinning. She gave me a finger wave. I made a mental note to punk her as soon as I had the opportunity.

"Therefore," Ethan said, drawing my gaze again, "so that Merit can better appreciate the vampires she has sworn to protect, so that Merit can come to know you all as siblings, and you her, I have decided to name her Cadogan House... Social Chair."

I closed my eyes. It was a ridiculously mild punishment, I knew. But it was also completely humiliating.

"Of course, Helen and Merit can work together to plan functions that will be enjoyable for all parties."

Now that was just cruel. And he knew it, too, if the snarky cant of his words was any indication. I opened my eyes again, found him smiling with keen self-satisfaction, and bit back the curse that formed on my lips.

"Liege," I said, bobbing my head with Grateful Condescension.

Ethan lifted a dubious brow, crossed his arms as he scanned the crowd again. "I'm the first to admit it isn't the most... satisfying punishment."

Vampires chuckled.

"And I'm not able, at this point, to reveal details that I believe would sway your opinions, lead you to the same conclusions I've reached. But there are few I would trust with the duty of serving this House as Sentinel. And she is the only one I've appointed to that task. She'll remain in that position, and she'll remain here, in Cadogan House."

He grinned again, and this time gave them that look of wicked, boyish charm that probably incited adoration among his female subjects. "And she'll do what she can to ensure that, as they say, 'There ain't no party like a Cadogan party.' "

I couldn't help the dubious snort that escaped me, but the crowd, enamored as they were of their Master, hooted their agreement. When the loudest of the cheers had quieted, he announced that they were excused, and after a polite, unified "Liege," they filed from the room.

"The Constitution bans cruel and unusual punishment," I told him when he stepped down from the podium.

"What?" he innocently asked. "Getting you out of the library? I believe it's due time, Sentinel."

"Now that I'm a real, live vampire?"

"Something like that," he absently said, frowning as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He flipped it open, and as he scanned whatever text was displayed there, his expression blanked.

"Let's go," was all he said. I obediently followed.

Lindsey, a straggler at the back of the vampire crowd, winked at me as I passed. "You said you wanted a mixer," she whispered. "And I so told you he wanted you."

"Oh, you'll get what's coming to you, Blondie," I warned, index finger pointed in her direction, and followed Ethan out of the room.

He didn't speak, but tunneled through the vampires on the stairs to the first floor and then to the front door. Curious, katana still in hand, I followed him out to the portico.

A limousine was parked in front of the gate.

"Who is it?" I asked, standing just behind him.

"Gabriel," he said. "Gabriel Keene."

Head of the North American Central Pack.

Jeff had once referred to him as the most alpha of the alphas. When the limousine door opened, and he stepped booted feet onto the sidewalk, I understood why.

Gabriel was tall, broad-shouldered, intensely masculine. Thick, sun-streaked blond-brown hair reached his shoulders. His confidence was obvious in the bearing of his shoulders, the swagger in his step. He wore snug jeans and biker boots and, even in the muggy spring night, a zipped-up leather driving jacket. He was handsome, almost fiercely so, amber eyes shining, almost drowsily powerful. This was a man who'd proven all he needed to prove and was now intent on action, on leading his people, protecting his people.

"There are more than three thousand shifters in the North American Central," Ethan whispered, eyes on the man, the shifter, before us. "And he's the Apex, the alpha, among them. The American Packs are autonomous, so he is, for all intents and purposes, their king. He's the political equivalent of Darius."

I nodded, kept my gaze on Gabriel.

Another person emerged from a limo, a lovely brunette, who moved to stand behind Gabriel, her delicate, wedding-ring-bound left hand resting on the gentle swell of an obvious pregnancy. She wore a fitted T-shirt and capris, her pink-tipped toes in flip-flops. Her sable hair was pulled back into a messy topknot, strands of it around her face. She wore no makeup, but didn't need it anyway. She was freshly pretty, pale green eyes in the midst of a rosy complexion, bee-stung lips curved into a gentle smile.

She was truly, simply, lovely.

I guessed this was Tonya, Gabriel's wife. The movement of his hand - he reached back, rested it on top of hers, linked their fingers together on her swollen belly, as if cradling his child - confirmed it.

"Sullivan," Gabriel said, when they'd walked up the sidewalk, stood before us.

Ethan nodded. "Keene. This is Merit. She stands Sentinel."

A grin quirked one corner of Gabriel's mouth. "I know who she is."

As if presenting his vulnerabilities for my inspection, he pivoted so that Tonya stood beside him, not behind him. Symbolic, I thought, and very un-vampirelike, this elevation of family.

"This is Tonya." Their fingers still linked, he rubbed a thumb across her belly. "And Connor."

I smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you."

Her voice was dulcet soft, the slightest hint of a southern accent trickling through.

"Lovely to meet you, Merit."

When I glanced back at Gabriel, he was staring at me with eyes I'd swore swirled blue and green, the entirety of earth and existence contained there. Just like Nick's. I stared at them, at the hypnotic ebb and flow of them, and I suddenly understood the differences between us.

Vampires were creatures of evening, of frost, of moonlight-tipped architecture, and empty, dark streets.

Shifters were creatures of earth, of sunlight, of sun-scorched savannahs and knee-deep grass.

We flew; they ran.

We analyzed; they acted.

We drank; they devoured.

Not enemies, but not the same.

I couldn't, was unable, to argue with that kind of knowledge. "Sir," I said, my voice hardly a whisper, my gaze still on his eyes.

He laughed, full and throaty, and I blinked, the spell broken. But he apparently wasn't finished with me. He leaned down and whispered, "No need for formalities, Kitten. We're practically family, you and I, the drama notwithstanding." He leaned back, brow knitted, and gazed into my eyes. I had the sense he was looking through me, past me, into some future I couldn't discern. The air tingled, magic flowing around us. "We lose them, don't we, always?"

I had no idea what that cryptic message meant, or how to respond, so I stayed quiet, let him look through me. Suddenly, the air cleared, and he straightened again. "Fuck it.

What can we do but do it, right?"

Gabriel turned back to Tonya, squeezed her hand, the question apparently rhetorical.

When he turned around again, he looked at Ethan.

"We'll be back. The Pack is convening, and we plan to meet in Chicago. I'm sure you'd heard the rumors, but out of respect for you and your people I wanted to give you a heads-up. I also understand that there's been some drama lately, and I apologize for that."

He waited until Ethan cautiously nodded before continuing. "And I want to talk to you about a certain arrangement for our conference, if you have time." He turned his gaze to me. "Security-related arrangement."

I could practically hear the wheels turning in Ethan's head as he considered just how useful I might be. "Of course," he responded.

Gabriel nodded, regarded Ethan, then glanced at me again. I could see evaluation in his eyes, but of what I didn't know.

"I'll be in touch," he said, then turned. His hand at the small of Tonya's back, they walked back to the car. They climbed in, the limousine door closed again, and they were off.

"What did he say?"

I glanced at Ethan. He looked at me, his head just tilted to the side, obviously curious.

Unfortunately, even if I'd wanted to tattle to the nosy little vampire, Gabriel's comments had been completely obtuse, so I could hardly fill him in. "Something about our being family, me and him?"

Ethan arched a brow. "Family? Meaning what?"

I shrugged. "I just report the facts."

We stood there quietly for a moment, the bulk of the House behind us, a dark summer evening before us. Whatever he thought about, he didn't share. I wondered at Gabriel's comment, about the inevitability of loss.

I knew it was coming, knew it waited for me, that the green-eyed devil beside me would most likely be involved in it. But, there being nothing I could do about it today, I shook off the feeling and turned back to the door, leaving him there behind me.

A few minutes later, in my room, I found it lying on the hardwood floor. Another crimson envelope, the same heavy stock, identical to the other. I picked it up and opened it, and just as I had the first time, pulled out an ivory card. The front bore the phrase that had been on the first card: YOU ARE INVITED.

But this time, when I flipped the card over, there were details about the party: BUCKINGHAM FOUNTAIN. MIDNIGHT

I stared down at the card in my hand for a full minute, before stuffing it back into the envelope and checking my watch. It was eleven-forty.

I grabbed my sword, and went for the door. I'd solved one mystery. Might as well see what other trouble I could get into.

THE END