“I find I’d rather spend my off-hours not packing away dusty books.”
“I find mixing business with pleasure makes both more interesting.” I may have been fierce with a katana-the samurai sword that vampires, including myself, carried for protection-but my heart still fluttered when he looked at me.īut we had many books to get through, so I pulled away and placed this one into the old-fashioned, brass-hinged steamer trunk on the floor. Ethan and I had been officially a couple for only a few weeks, and the honeymoon period wasn’t over. My blood warmed instantly, my cheeks flushing at the intensity of his emerald gaze. He handed his book to me, our fingers grazing as he passed it over. He was very proper, very British, and very much not a fan of our House. And I don’t think we want that.”ĭarius West was head of the GP. “Yes,” I agreed, “but our other option is letting Darius do it himself. He’d gone so far as to appoint a “transition team” comprised of vampires and other supernaturals from whom he’d sought advice about the split.Įthan leaned back and glanced at the bookshelves that lined a long wall in his large office. The GP had been unusually quiet since we’d announced our intention to leave, communicating with the House only about the details of the ceremony and their travel arrangements to Chicago.Įthan found that silence very suspicious. We’d been separating and packing up the GP’s goods and readying our finances, which seemed to be in order. Our preparations had been largely uneventful. The GP’s members were traveling to Chicago for the sole purpose of formally expelling the House-of breaking up with us in public.
The entire House was nervous, the building fogged with magical tension as we waited for the final countdown: Seventy-two hours remained until our official split from the Greenwich Presidium, the European council that ruled American vampire Houses, and the pendulum swung over our heads like Damocles’ sword. “It’s their awful title now.” Ethan’s words were humorous, but the tone in his voice wasn’t. “From Opposable Thumbs to Descending Fangs.” “This one belongs to the GP,” he said, glancing at the spine. Ethan Sullivan, the unofficial co-Master of Chicago’s Cadogan House, and my boyfriend.Įthan, looking exceptionally handsome in black pants, a button-down, and a black tie, examined a slim, leather-bound book. It was a rebellion, and the golden-haired vampire next to me was leading the charge. It was like a scene from a divorce: belongings divided into piles books labeled with one owner’s name or the other and everyone emotionally exhausted.īut in this case, there was no breakup.
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