Some Girls Bite (8 page)

A golden eyebrow winged upward. “You know who you
were
. I know who you are, Merit, and who you’ll come to be.”

“And what is that?”

His face was completely, serenely confident. “Mine. My vampire. My subject.”

The possessiveness called my anger, and it rose, flowered and rushed across my body with a warmth that curled my toes. That warmth was delicious, and yet the emotion felt strange—separate, somehow. As if it wasn’t my anger, but an anger inside me. Whatever the source, it was pervasive, strong, and thrilling.

I stood up and asked him, my voice huskier, lusher, “Would you like to test that theory?”

Ethan’s gaze dropped to my lips, and he wet his own, but when he responded, seconds later, his tone was chill. Composed. The tone of Master-subduing-rebellious-peon. “You forget yourself, Initiate. You’re two days old. I’ve three hundred and ninety-four years. Do you really want to test your mettle against me?”

I wasn’t completely stupid. I knew my answer to that question should have been a resounding no. But that didn’t stop my body, which I was beginning to learn was operating on a completely different frequency from the rest of my brain, from responding with all the bravado it could muster, “Why not?”

A heavy silence descended, the only sound penetrating it the solid thud of my heart. Ethan pushed back his chair. “Come with me.”

 

“What did you just do?”

Mallory and I followed Ethan back through the first floor of Cadogan House.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “Vampire Merit’s a lot braver than People Merit.”

“Yeah, well, you better figure out a way to reconcile the genetics, ’cause Vampire Merit just landed you in some serious shit.”

We took a right, descended a flight of stairs, and followed Ethan through another hallway to a set of antique wooden doors. The room we entered was huge and bright, the center of its wooden floor covered with a set of tatami mats. Half the height of the twenty-foot-high walls was covered in gleaming wood; the remainder, up to an overhanging balcony supported by massive wooden columns, showcased an impressive collection of antique weaponry, including swords, maces, bows, axes, and wicked-looking knives.

This was a room for sparring.

It took a moment for the implication to settle in.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, turning to him. “You can’t actually think I’m going to fight you?”

Ethan regarded me coolly and began unbuttoning his shirt. Question answered, I thought, and averted my eyes after the first peek of toned chest.

I walked into the middle of the floor, thinking I’d feel better if I had a better grasp on my surroundings. Ethan’s arsenal was impressive—a set of crossed pikes, blue ribbons hung from their ends; a hefty broadsword; a black wooden shield bearing a golden oak tree, the acorns painted red; rows of unsheathed katanas.

“Experience?” Ethan called out behind me.

“Ballet and jogging. And whatever extra strength two days of being fanged will give me.” I made the mistake of turning around just as he was pulling the button-up shirt over his head. My mouth went dry. His shoulders were broad and perfectly sculpted, as was the rest of his torso. His chest was firm, his stomach flat and lean, dotted only by the pucker of navel and a thin line of dark blond hair that disappeared into the waist of his trousers. Around his neck was a thin gold chain, on which hung a tiny oval of gold with a design stamped into it. It looked like a saint’s medal, although I doubt any saints would have approved of a Master vampire wearing it.

Ethan caught me staring and lifted a brow, and I looked quickly away. Mallory yelled my name, waving me frantically toward where she stood at the edge of the mats. When I reached her, she shook her head at me.

“You cannot seriously think you’re going to fight this guy. He could kick your ass with one arm tied behind his back, much less with all his voluminous vampire powers. He’s probably stronger than you, faster than you. He can probably jump higher. Hell, he can probably glamour you into making out with him right there on the mats.”

We simultaneously looked over to where Ethan, half naked, was toeing off black leather loafers. The muscles in his abdomen clenched as he moved. So did the lines of corded muscle across his shoulders.

God, but he was beautiful.

I narrowed my gaze.

Beautiful but evil. Wicked. The repugnant dregs of foul malevolence. Or something.

“Jesus,”
Mallory whispered. “I want to support your quest for revenge and all, but maybe you should just let him glamour you.” She looked at me, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Either you’re fucked, or you’re
fucked
, right?’

I rolled my eyes at her. “You’re not helping.”

The shuffle of footsteps rang through the room. We looked up. Vampires were filling the balcony, all dressed in black, all throwing hateful looks at me and Mallory. As I took in their obvious disdain, the weight of the risk I’d taken settled into my bones. According to the aptly named
Canon
, vampire society was based on antiquated notions of feudalism, including unfailing loyalty to a House and its Master. I’d walked into my House—into Ethan’s House—spouted off, and challenged him to a fight. Twenty-seven years of trying to live under my parents’ radar, of never causing enough trouble to raise their notice, and I’d made two very big mistakes in a matter of days. Walking across campus had nearly killed me. Challenging Ethan . . . Well, we’d find out soon enough.

“Probably this wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made,” I admitted.

“No,” Mallory agreed, but when I looked at her, her eyes shone bright with appreciation. “But it’s ballsy. And you’ve needed to make a ballsy decision.”

“Just a minute ago you said—”

“Forget it. I know what I said,” she interrupted. “I’ve changed my mind. Geniuses are entitled. This is the right thing to do. This is the new Merit.” She hugged me quickly, then stepped back. “Kick his ass, dead girl.”

Ethan joined us, and made a gallant bow. When he straightened again, he clucked me beneath the chin. “Don’t lose that courage now, Initiate.”

“It wasn’t
my
courage—the vampire challenged you.”

“You
are
the vampire, Merit, now and forever. But sometimes the mind needs a chance to catch up with the genetics,” he allowed.

I cast a worried glance to the balcony. “I hope that happens soon.”

He chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt you, and despite the fact that you’ve broken virtually every rule in the
Canon
, I’ll make you a deal.”

I faced him again, forced myself to meet his green eyes, despite the trembling of my hands. “What?”

“If you manage to land a blow, I’ll relieve you of your obligations to me.”

It was the opposite of what I’d have predicted—which was something of the “If you survive this, I’ll let you heal before punishing you for challenging me” variety. By those standards, it was a good deal, if improbable-sounding. I searched his face, not sure if he was serious. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Ethan lifted his gaze to the balcony of vampires above us. “They know.”

When our gazes met again, I nodded. I handed the crumpled death threat, which I’d been too busy being stupid to bring up, to Mallory, tugged at the bottom of my T-shirt, and followed Ethan into the middle of the room. He turned and bowed slightly. “One hit. That’s all you need to do.”

With no further ado, he kicked, an elegant roundhouse that would have brought his bare foot across my face had I not fallen back. I hit the mat on my back, my breath rushing out with the impact.

As I lay there, the gallery tittering above me, I wasn’t sure which scared me more: the fact that he’d nearly kicked me in the face, or the fact that I’d been fast enough to avoid it.

I
had
changed.

“Nice reflexes.”

I looked up to find Ethan a few feet away, peering down at me curiously. He wasn’t the only one with questions. I wondered how much more I could do, so I pushed my palms flat behind me, brought up my legs, rolled back, and popped onto my feet in a quick bounce.

“Very nice.”

I shrugged off the compliment, but I was thrilled by the motion. I hadn’t danced classically in years, but I’d always relished the few seconds of being airborne in a
grand jeté
—the brief sensation of fighting gravity . . . and winning. This was similar, but infinitely more satisfying. My body felt even lighter, sprightlier than when I was in top dancing form. Maybe there were advantages to being a vampire.

I grinned back at Ethan. “Just taking her for a test spin.” Then I circled, looking for a weakness. Ethan bounced on the balls of his feet and crooked his hand at me in invitation. “Then let’s see what you can do.”

Someone started music, and Nine Inch Nails’ “The Hand That Feeds” spilled into the room.

“Apropos,” he muttered, and crooked his hand again.

NIN was an interesting choice for a nearly four-hundred-year-old vampire. Whatever his issues, I couldn’t fault his taste in music.

Back to the challenge at hand, I tried a punch. I swung forward, rotating my wrist as I tried to catch him in a jab, but he avoided it, followed the motion of my hand, and swung his leg into a low sweep that nearly brought my feet out from under me. But I jumped just in time and arched my back into a handspring, which put me a few feet away and out of his range.

Or so I thought, until he rushed forward so quickly, the motion was blurred. I flipped back again, then again, the motion nearly effortless, but he kept coming. When I popped up the last time, I instinctively crouched, which put the cross he’d directed at my jaw out of range. He struck air, and I reached out arms to grab his knees, but he flew over me, landing behind me with a gentle thud.

I pushed to my feet again, and turned to see him grinning wildly, his eyes blazing green. “I’m impressed. Let’s do it again.” Then his expression went solemn, and he bounced on the balls of his feet and crooked a hand again in invitation. Rolling my eyes at the
Matrix
replay, I tried a butterfly kick. I’d once seen a kick-boxing instructor try it, but as a human I hadn’t had the power or stretch to execute it.

Being a vampire changed the rules. Now I had the strength to push myself into the air and swing my legs around, to spin my body horizontally.

Still, Ethan’s reflexes were faster than mine, so I missed him again. He threw his torso back nearly 180 degrees, all the while keeping himself upright, and completely avoided my extended legs.

“So close,” he offered breathily.

“Not close enough.” But I grinned when I said it, thrilled that I’d managed the move. It pleased the crowd, too, and they hooted appreciatively. “Careful, Liege!” someone called out. “She might scar that pretty face.”

Ethan laughed good-naturedly. “God forbid,” he told the gallery. “Then I’d only have fabulous wealth and canny instincts to rely on.” The vampires chuckled together, and he tipped his head up to smile at the crowd.

That was my chance, and I took it. Ethan was distracted, so I rushed him, but the sneaky bastard anticipated my move. He edged to the left just before I could take him down. I braced my arms to hit the ground as I flew past him, but before I made contact, he grabbed my arm, spun me around midair, and pushed me to the ground. I landed flat on my back with Ethan above me, his body stretched atop mine. He neatly captured my wrists in his hands and pushed them—despite my squirming—to the mat above my head.

The crowd erupted into catcalls and lewd suggestions.

“You baited me!” I accused.

His lips scant inches from my face, he smiled wolfishly. “And so easily.” I squirmed, but he pushed me harder against the mat and slid a knee between mine. “Initiate, you can guess exactly where that’s going to lead.”

I growled in irritation.

At least, I told myself it was irritation, and not at all the fact he smelled delicious, a clean combination of linen, cotton, and soap. Not the fact that the weight of his body on mine felt completely natural—a languid heat suddenly flowing through my chest, like the union of our bodies had closed a circuit.

I tried to tune out the sensation and, embarrassed at the silvering of my eyes—I have to admit, I had a sudden, new sympathy for men faced with hiding their arousal—I squeezed them shut. Ethan let me calm, and when I finally opened my eyes, his face was blank.

“Do you agree that you failed to land a blow?”

I paused, but nodded. “Unless you’re willing to give me a freebie?”

For a heartbeat, his gaze dropped to my lips. I wondered if he’d kiss me, if he thought about it, if he felt the pull like I did. But he looked away, then loosened my wrists and pushed himself up. He offered me a hand, which I took, and let him pull me to my feet . . . to the boos and general disappointment of the peanut gallery.

“Is this why you came?” he asked when we were both upright again. “To fight me?”

Mallory must have heard the question over the mumbling of the crowd, as she stepped forward, the note in her outstretched hand. “We came for this.”

Ethan wiped his brow with the back of a hand, then took the note. He read it, his expression blanking. “Where did you get this?”

“It was wrapped around a brick that was thrown through our living room window,” I said.

His gaze snapped up. “Were you hurt?” He scanned my body, looking for injuries.

“We’re fine. There were three of us in the house, and we’re all fine.”

“Three?”

“Mallory’s boyfriend was there.”

“Ah.”

I thumped the note with a finger. “What’s this about? Is there a vampire war I don’t know about? Did changing me piss someone off?”

He frowned as he perused the note again. “Perhaps your initial attacker is bitter about not having finished the job, or about my having finished it for him. We believed he, the one who bit you, was a Rogue—a vampire living outside the House system. The note would suggest that’s true. It’s also possible there’s a connection between your attack and the attack that killed Jennifer Porter.”