House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,1

looking for anything obviously out of place. The Presidium Guide to Alienating the American Houses or the like. But before I found anything remotely appropriate, Ethan sidled next to me, a hand propped on the shelf.

“Come here often?” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I see you’re here in this”—he gestured at the shelves—“library all alone. You must be a student here?” He traced a fingertip down the hollow of my throat, lifting goose bumps on my arms.

Since my mind hardly worked when he did things like that, it took a moment for his words to register. Was he initiating a bout of role-playing . . . about a library?

“Ethan Sullivan,” I marveled. “You have a library fantasy.”

He smiled slyly. “I have a doctoral-student-turned-vampire fantasy.”

Before I could respond, he whipped a hand around my waist and yanked my body toward him like a pirate on a romance novel cover. I nearly laughed at the move, until I met his gaze. His eyes smoldered, deep green warring with silver.

Ethan leaned down, his lips at my ear. “You aren’t laughing now.”

“No,” I hoarsely said. “I definitely am not.”

“Ahem,” said a loud voice in the doorway.

We looked over. Luc, former captain of Cadogan’s guards, now tied for the position of House Second, stood in the doorway. As House Sentinel, I was an unofficial member of the guards, which made Luc my pseudoboss.

“Sentinel,” he said, “the guests are going to be here in an hour, and we’re nearly done setting up outside. Since this is your party, perhaps you’d like to join us at some point?”

He was right about the party; I was the House’s social chair, an appointment Ethan had given me as both a punishment and an incentive to get to know my fellow Cadogan vampires. But he was wrong that I’d been avoiding my party-prep duties. I’d cleared my being here with the boss, or at least the one currently wearing a suit.

I slid Ethan a suspicious glance, but kept our conversation private, activating the telepathic link between us. I thought you told Luc you needed my help getting this done before the party?

He shrugged lightly. I thought we’d finish this particular job with plenty of time to spare.

We might have, if his flirtations hadn’t kept slowing us down. But what was done was done. I had arrangements to make, and he had guests to greet.

“Apologies, Luc,” I said. “Miscommunication on my end.” I’d let myself be distracted, after all. I could take responsibility.

Suddenly nervous, I straightened the hem of the fitted leather jacket I’d paired with slim jeans and a flowy tank, a look I managed because the weather had been unseasonably warm the last few weeks. “I truly hope this was a good idea.”

Ethan grabbed his tailored suit jacket from his desk chair while I walked to the doorway.

“Inviting every Rogue vampire in Chicago into our backyard?” Ethan asked. “However could that go wrong?”

Most of the country’s vampires lived in twelve Houses scattered from coast to coast: Navarre, McDonald, Cabot, Cadogan, Taylor, Lincoln, Washington, Heart, Lassiter, Grey, Murphy, and Sheridan. Three of those—Navarre, Cadogan, and Grey—were located in Chicago.

All twelve Houses fell under the authority of the Greenwich Presidium—at least until seventy-two hours from now, when that number would drop to eleven. Now that we were defecting, we were joining the Rogue vampires who didn’t live in Houses. They managed on their own or banded together into unofficial tribes. Either way, they didn’t believe the GP had the right to rule them from across the pond.

Rogues were, in their way, America’s vampiric colonies.

Pretty soon we’d be Rogues as well, which made it perfectly reasonable that I’d arranged a meet-and-greet for Rogues and Cadogan vamps on the expansive grounds that surrounded Cadogan House.

Yes, we were finally having a mixer.

The party would provide an opportunity to ease Cadogan vampires’ concerns about the Rogues—who they were and what we were about to become—and let the Rogues get to know us, too.

Luc offered a sarcastic laugh. “It’s Cadogan House, and Merit is our social chair. I’m thinking this is a recipe for disaster.” Luc, much like Ethan, enjoyed riling me up.

“Har, har,” I flatly said, waiting while Ethan slipped into his suit jacket. “If it is, serves Ethan right for making me social chair.”

“You did attack him for changing you into a vampire,” Luc pointed out.

“Only because he didn’t do it very well.”

“I reject the notion I am capable of doing anything ‘not well,’” Ethan offered.

“So modest, our Liege,” Luc said.

Luc called Ethan “Liege” even though Ethan