His brows lifted. “Books?”

I poked him in the shoulder. “The ones in the front room. About vampires.”

“Ah.”

I brushed a lock of dark hair from his temple. “I think it was very thoughtful. And I look forward to lengthy discussions about the order in which ranked vampires can enter a room.”

“Not in a million years.”

“Speaking of millions,” I said, grateful for the segue, “can I ask you a personal question?”

His grin was wicked. “Of course.”

“Not that kind of personal question.” But still, very personal. And awkward. I gestured around us. “How did you pay for all this?”

His brows lifted in surprise; whatever he’d expected me to ask, it hadn’t been that. “With money?”

“I mean—I can’t believe I haven’t asked this—I assume you get paid by the Pack for working at NAC or . . . ?”

“Pack members get a portion of the profits from NAC Industries and the businesses that make it up. They’ve been mostly very successful. Our family’s share is larger because we put up the initial investment money.”

I could buy that, and knew they operated several businesses, but his individual sliver of Keene family profits still didn’t seem to be enough for all this. “And?”

“And,” he said flatly. “Other means.”

I thought of the leather, the bikes, and what little I knew of old-school motorcycle clubs said they ran heavy in drug and protection rackets.

“That’s an ignorant stereotype,” he said, apparently having read the look on my face. “And no, I didn’t use those other means to buy the house. The funds were entirely legitimate.”

“From the profits of NAC Industries?”

To my absolute surprise, faint pink rose across his cheekbones. “And other sources in my account.”

“Do you . . . have a trust fund?”

More pink, which made my grin widen.

“Are you . . . rich?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

I grinned at him. “I kind of think I do.”

“I’m comfortable,” he said, squirming a little. “My parents knew how to invest their funds.” He tapped my chin. “So if we can’t meet the deadline, and I need to whisk you out of Chicago, we can make other plans.”

His turn for a decent segue. “And where would we go?”

“Wherever you’ll go with me,” he said and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Come here.” He patted the blanket. “Let’s enjoy the night and the air and the breeze. And the peace and damned quiet.”

I adjusted to lie beside him, fitting perfectly into his arms. And he was right. It was peaceful and quiet. The brick wall or house or greenery, or all three, seemed to soften the sounds of the city, so it hummed softly around us. The air was cool, the breeze delicious, and a few stars had been strong enough to pierce the haze and shine above us.

“I can’t believe this is inside the city,” I said. “It’s really remarkable.”

“I thought so. It felt like . . . an oasis. But we won’t get many more nights like this. Not when the cold sets in.”

“You have fur.”

“So I do. And rolling in the snow is a lot of fun. But traversing hard-packed and filthy snow on a Chicago sidewalk in February is not.”

“Picnic dinners and moonlit chats,” I said. “You’re a lot more romantic on dates than I’d imagined.”

He turned to look at me, grin full of masculine satisfaction. “You imagined?”

“Let’s just say, the girls you used to date didn’t seem very interested in romance, and you didn’t seem very interested in supplying it.”

“What did I want to supply?”

I snorted. “You don’t need me to tell you that. You were a player, and the girls lined up for a chance with the prince.”

“I can’t help my natural appeal.”

“Again with the modesty,” I said, but I felt some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “I talked with my mom about you.”

“You did?”

“We were discussing the AAM, the Pack, vampires. About trouble for all three, and the trouble you’d gotten in as a teenager.”

“Growing pains,” he said, and there was no regret in his smile.

“That’s one way to look at it. You got in trouble so often I kept a list.”

Connor looked down at me, brows raised. “Excuse me?”

My smile was wide. “In my journal. Only the times I knew about, of course. So if you told me or Lulu or my parents.” I slid him a glance. “Or if I actually watched you get hauled off by the CPD.”

“That only happened a couple of times.”

“Four that I’m aware of,” I said, correcting the record. “And it was a good thing your father was friends with the Ombudsman. I also kept a top ten list.”

“Worst crimes, or most impressive?”

“Both.”

“Why were you so obsessed with me, brat?”

I was torn between humor and insult. “I was not, and have never been, obsessed with you.”

“You had a list.”

“Because you kept getting in trouble. And those were only the times you got caught.”

His grin was wide again. “Those were halcyon days. Before screens and responsibility.”

“Before actual consequences, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“My favorite was probably when you replaced the bottled blood in the Cadogan cafeteria fridge with ketchup and hot sauce. Or when you marked all the cards in the Pack bar, then spent the evening emptying your uncles’ pockets.”

“Those were good nights,” he said with a very pleased smile. “My uncles were pissed. Or all except Christopher, who said they should have known better and checked the deck first. Said it was a good lesson for them. I was grounded for a week after the blood because someone snitched.”

“I do not admit to snitching”—I totally had snitched—“and even if I had, there was plenty of evidence. You’d been in Cadogan House that night asking about how blood tasted.”

“You snitched,” he said. “And I got in trouble. Thing was, it wasn’t me.”

“Right,” I said dryly. “Who else would it be?”

He looked down at me, and there was honesty in his eyes. “You tell me.”

Puzzled, I thought back. I remembered that night, because Lulu had stayed over, and we’d spent a good chunk of the time complaining about Connor and eating ice cream. Until we’d snuck him inside, and let him join us. So Connor and I weren’t the only ones there . . .

“Lulu,” I guessed. “She did it—and you took the blame.”

He shrugged, as if he might have shrugged off the gallantry. “Her parents were stricter than mine.”

“Everyone’s parents are stricter than yours,” I muttered.

“Shifters,” he said, unrepentant. “She usually played by the rules, and didn’t like getting in trouble. She’s”—he frowned as he searched for a word—“softer than us that way.”

“I didn’t like disappointing my parents.”

“No one does. But I mostly ignored punishments, and you usually tried to negotiate your way around them by citing House rules or whatever.”

“Now who’s got the list?” I asked.

Connor snorted. “The point is, it was no skin off my hide to take responsibility. Lulu was relieved she didn’t get in trouble, and very irritated that she owed me. It was a total win-win.” He frowned. “I think that’s when she was spending time with the necromancer kid.”

“That was—” I had to work to remember the girl’s name. “Ariel, I think. Her mother, Annabelle, was a friend of my parents. She helped them, and the Ombuds, before she retired.”

Her daughter, I recalled, had been a hellion, and not an especially good influence on Lulu. Necromancers didn’t come into their magic until they hit seventeen or eighteen, and it could be a rough road before and after.

“Maybe the entire thing had been her idea,” I mused.

“I take it you aren’t in touch.”

“No, and I don’t think Lulu is, either.”

“I think I kissed Ariel during her wild-child phase.”

“You’re still in your wild-child phase and just as incorrigible.”

He turned to me, gaze narrowed, but eyes gleaming like blue fire. He touched my face with a gentle fingertip, tracing the line of my jaw, lips hovering near my ear. “Shall I prove just how incorrigible I can be?”

“Yes,” I said and grabbed a handful of his T-shirt.

Next thing I knew, I was on my back, a prince above me, his eyes outrageously blue. He nipped at my bottom lip.

“We are outside,” I reminded him. “People can see us.”

“No, they can’t,” he said. “Check the windows.”

Instinctively, I glanced up, realized the only windows that faced the courtyard were from his town house, and they were all closed, the curtains drawn. No one could see.

“Clever,” I said, as anticipation rose on my skin.

“Shifter,” he said. “We enjoy all manner of naked outdoor romps.”

And in case I didn’t believe him, he proceeded to prove it. He pulled his shirt over his head, then rose. His feet were bare, and he unbuttoned his jeans, more slowly than I thought fair or necessary, and then there were boxer briefs, and then there was nothing but smooth, tan skin.

He was glorious.

I’d seen him naked before, but that had only been brief flashes before or after he’d shifted. Having him stand there, the prince of wolves, staring down at me with that fallen-angel face, was something altogether different. Altogether more powerful.

Broad shoulders, strong arms. His chest, each muscle defined as his lean torso narrowed to his abdomen. Strength rippled there, dark ink calling out his challenge to the world. I’m not led; I lead. The sentiment matched the daring in his eyes, the strong brace of his legs, and the hand that dipped from abdomen to arousal, the fingers that gripped.