House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,2

wasn’t technically Master of the House anymore. That honor fell to Malik, the vampire who’d taken over during Ethan’s brief demise. Now that Ethan was back, even though we hadn’t made any official changes, everybody acted like the old guard was in charge again—Ethan as Master, Malik as Second, Luc as Guard Captain. It was simply easier than treating twice as many vampires as senior staff members, or figuring out what to call them. Ethan certainly didn’t object to playing Master, and the others didn’t seem to mind giving up their promotions.

“In any event,” Luc said, “sorry to interrupt.”

“No, you weren’t,” I challenged.

“No, I wasn’t.” He patted my back collegially. “It’s entertaining to see you flustered. So very human. Reminders like that keep a girl grounded.”

“She’s plenty grounded,” Ethan said, joining us in the doorway. “And not just because I knock her off her feet every time we train.”

“Only in your dreams, Sullivan.” Ethan had undertaken to help me with my training as Sentinel. With four hundred years of experience under his belt, he usually bested me. But not always, I thought with a grin. I’d surprised him a time or two, and those victories were particularly sweet.

“My dreams are much more interesting than that, Sentinel.”

Luc swept an arm toward the hallway. “Your guests are arriving soon, and I am plenty disturbed and have no desire to learn more about those dreams, so let’s be on our way, shall we?”

Ethan made a sarcastic noise. “Lucas, I rue the day I promoted you.”

“Probably so, boss. Probably so. You do wonders for his sense of humor,” Luc said to me.

“Funny, I wasn’t aware he had one.”

“And now it’s two against one,” Ethan said. “God willing, our guests are more generous.”

Luc chuckled. “As much barbecue as we’re piling up outside, they should be.”

It didn’t surprise either of them that I hoofed it down the hallway at the mention of barbecue. But this time, I wasn’t just hurrying because of the smoked meats.

It was the supplier I was looking for.

* * *

The House’s main hallway led through the first floor to the cafeteria and the door to the backyard.

We stepped outside. The lawn—an expanse of grass that had long since yellowed—swarmed with Cadogan vampires adjusting decor and arranging chairs and tables, all of them sending excited magic into the air. The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” echoed through outdoor speakers, the result of a special permit we’d managed to acquire from the city and the playlist Lindsey, my closest friend in the House, and I had put together for the party. Social chair duties, I figured.

Luc trotted into the yard, waving his arms at a reporter attempting to climb the fence around the House for a shot of the party. Paparazzi loved vampires and parties. The two together, I imagined, were irresistible.

But before Luc reached him, the reporter squeaked and disappeared back behind the hedge.

He’d undoubtedly been found by our hired security, Chicago’s mercenary fairies. They detested humans, and wouldn’t take kindly to the reporter’s attempt to breach the shield around the House.

That mild drama addressed, preparations for the invited guests were well under way. I felt a jolt of guilt about having been distracted by Ethan. On the other hand, we’d been through plenty as a couple, and we took our moments together when we could find them.

Normally, stepping outside in Chicago in winter was a chilling venture, which made the lawn a questionable location for a social event. But we were taking full advantage of the unusually warm weather, and stand-up heaters handled any residual chill in the air. Giant white balloons floated lazily in the mild breeze, and a white, open-sided tent offered tables and a small parquet dance floor, its roof a dome of stretched fabric and arched iron, like something you might have seen in Beaux Arts Paris. There were hundreds of unaffiliated vampires in this city, and we aimed to impress them, at least with our stylishness and good taste.

And, of course, there was the food. You couldn’t have much of a party without it, and it certainly wouldn’t have been gracious to invite the Rogues into our domain and refuse to feed them. Vampires craved blood and needed it for nutritional purposes, but that didn’t diminish our desire for human food. If anything, our faster metabolisms made the hunger worse.

I had planned appropriately, ensuring our tables were filled with roasted meats of the most popular barnyard persuasions—pork, beef, and chicken—and all the appropriate sides. Chicago had once