Phantom Kiss

by Chloe Neill

  “Kelley’s talking about embroidered polo shirts,” I said. As I’d hoped, that put a little fire in his eyes.

  “I’ll be down in an hour,” he said, and we left him to get dressed.

  “Do you think he’s really ready for battle?” I asked Ethan as we walked down the hallway.

  “I don’t know,” Ethan said. “But I suspect he needs the job as much as we need him.” He whipped an arm around me, kissed me hard. “Which isn’t nearly as much as I need you.”

  I gave him a wink. “Good. I like you a little needy.”

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” Ethan called out as I continued down the hallway in front of him.

  “I know,” I said, grinning back at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

  This time, the fire was in Ethan’s eyes.

  And I was good with that, too.

  The thrilling final installment of Chloe Neill’s New York Times bestselling urban fantasy series sees sinister sorcery advancing across Chicago, and it might usher in the fall of Cadogan House . . . keep reading for a preview of

  BLADE BOUND

  Available April 2017

  Five by Five

  Late August Chicago, Illinois

  It was midnight in Chicago, and all was well.

  I stood in front of Cadogan House, a stately and luxurious three-story stone house on a rolling bit of lawn in Chicago’s Hyde Park. It was surrounded by an imposing fence meant to keep our enemies at bay, guarded by men and women who risked their lives to keep the House safe from attack.

  Tonight, as summer gave way to fall and a cool breeze spilled across the quiet dark, there was peace.

  Katana at my side, and having finished my patrol of the expansive grounds, I nodded at the guard at the gate and jogged up the stairs to the glowing portico. One final look, one last glance, to ensure quiet in the realm, and then I opened the door . . . and walked back into chaos.

  Cadogan House’s pretty foyer—hardwood floors, pedestal table bearing richly scented flowers, gleaming chandelier—was crowded with people and noise. A vampire manned the front desk, and three others—supplicants seeking time with Ethan Sullivan, Master of the House—waited on a bench along one side. Vampires carried boxes toward the basement stairs for the waiting truck, watched with an eagle eye by Helen, the House’s den mother.

  There was a flurry of movement and activity because the Master of Cadogan House was getting married tomorrow.

  To me.

  A vampire with dark skin and a shaved head rounded the corner into the foyer. This was Malik, Ethan’s second-in-command. He wore a slim-cut dark suit—the official Cadogan House uniform—his skin contrasting vividly with the crisp white shirt and pale green of his eyes. He tracked the room, found me, and walked my way.

  “Busy night,” he said.

  “It is.”

  “Is there a crowd outside the House?”

  I shook my head. “No, but Luc said they’re already filling the sidewalks outside the library. The CPD had to pull in extra staff to monitor.”

  Ethan and I would be married at Harold Washington Library, the city’s main branch in downtown Chicago. The city’s humans were lining up to watch.

  Malik grinned. “‘The wedding of the decade,’ I believe the Tribune said.”

  “I just want a wedding without supernatural drama,” I said. Chicago, and Cadogan House in particular, seemed to attract it.

  “Luc has that in hand,” Malik said of the captain of Cadogan’s guard corps. “And the rest of us are doing what we can.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. The entire House had rallied around us, thrilled to help celebrate the marriage of their beloved Master, the man who’d given them immortality. Cadogan’s vampires had ironed linens, polished silver, slid invitations into envelopes lined with crimson silk.

  “The effort is very much appreciated,” I said. Their help gave Ethan more time to lead the House, and me more time to ensure its safety.

  A hush fell over the room, all talk and activity coming to a stop as Cadogan House’s Master stepped into the room. Every eye in the place turned to him, including mine.

  That we’d known each other for more than a year didn’t make the sight of him any less thrilling. To the contrary—that he was mine, and I was most assuredly his, made the impact even more forceful.

  He was tall and lean, with the body of a man who’d once been a soldier. Even now, as a leader of vampires, he’d kept the same chiseled physique. His hair was golden blond and shoulder length, his eyes the green of new emeralds. His jaw was square, his nose straight, his lips usually either quirked in a wicked grin or pulled into a serious line—the expression of a Master with weight on his shoulders.

  He also wore the Cadogan uniform—a trim black suit that fitted him like the expensive, bespoke garment it probably was. He wore a white button-down beneath, the top button unclasped to show the gleaming silver teardrop of the Cadogan medal that hung at his throat. It was a mark of solidarity, of unity, among the vampires of Cadogan House. And he wore it as well as he did everything else.

  Beside him was a small woman with tan skin and dark hair. She was a vampire, at least based on the invisible buzz of magic around her. And given the tightness around her eyes, she was a vampire with worries.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Ethan promised, and she knotted her fingers together, inclined her head toward him.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he said, and we watched as she headed toward the door.

  But when I looked back at Ethan, his gaze was fixed on me.

  Sentinel, he said through our telepathic connection, taking in the leather and steel of my ensemble. I like the look of you.

  Good, I said. Because you’re marrying me tomorrow.

  His smile was just a little bit wicked. So I am.

  Malik and I walked toward him.

  “Mrs. Bly?” Malik asked.

  “She has a human nephew she’d like to consider joining the House. His parents are less than enthused, and she’d like us to talk to them.”

  Malik smiled. “She wants us to sell them on the House.”

  “Like we’re working on commission,” Ethan said with an answering smile, and glanced at me. “You’ll be leaving soon?

  Tonight was my bachelorette party, organized by Lindsey, a friend in the House and a guard, and Mallory, my oldest friend and maid of honor. Malik and Luc, Lindsey’s boyfriend, were in charge of Ethan’s bachelor party. I wasn’t sure what any of them had planned, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know.

  “In an hour.”

  “Let’s go to my office,” Ethan said, nodding at Malik and put a hand on my back, steering me through vampires and boxes and down the hallway.

  “From head of security to wedding mule,” said a vampire with a mop of wavy curls, his arms roped with the effort of carrying an enormous box down the hall.

  “I’m pretty sure mules complain less, Luc,” said the pale vampire with a swinging blond ponytail who followed him with a much lighter load—a bundle of long, spiraling branches.

  “Sticks,” Luc said, setting his box carefully on the floor and offering us a crooked grin, his face framed by tousled blond hair. “Why do you need sticks for a wedding?”

  “They aren’t sticks,” Lindsey said. “They’re willow branches, and they’re for ambience.”

  Luc shook his head ruefully, glanced at Ethan. “Your orders, Sire?”

  Ethan smiled. “Wedding decorations are outside my wheelhouse, and Merit’s, I suspect.”

  No argument there. I was technically the House’s social chair, but I fell less into the Soiree Planner category than the Crash a Party with a Sword category. I’d left most of the planning to my mother and Helen, both of whom were skilled at planning soirees. And when a Master vampire
married a real estate mogul’s daughter, a soiree was unavoidable. I told them “simple and elegant” and “white peonies,” and let them have the run of things. Which meant they’d asked me at least twenty-five questions a night for the past four months.

  “Hashtag wedding,” Luc said with a smile.

  Lindsey shook her head, mouth tight. “You’re still not using that right.”

  “Hashtag oppression,” Luc said. Not for lack of trying, Luc never quite got the references right. Probably not entirely unexpected for a century-old vampire.

  “I’m sure Helen appreciates your efforts tonight,” Ethan said. “And I’m sure we will tomorrow.”

  I glanced at Luc. “You’ll keep him out of trouble tonight?”

  “Scout’s honor,” Luc said, his expression perfectly bland. Since vampires were experts at bluffing, I couldn’t tell whether that was really the truth or a cover for a night of carousing and mischief making.

  “If the CPD calls me,” I said, looking at Luc and Ethan in turn, “there will be hell to pay.”

  “Ditto,” Lindsey said, flicking Luc’s arm.

  Ethan slid his hands into his pockets, lifted his chin in amusement. “Since Catcher will be with us, the odds of an arrest are slim.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Because he works for the Ombudsman’s office, or because he could magic over any trouble?”

  “Both.”

  As long as it worked.

  “And what do you have planned for your soiree?” Ethan asked. “I’m guessing it won’t involve tea sipping and heavy reading.”

  I pretended to adjust invisible glasses. “Well, we will be reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica aloud and watching Neil deGrasse Tyson videos on the YouTubes. We might also make time for macramé.”

  “I’m sure,” Ethan said. “And as long as you’re back by dawn . . .”

  “I will be.”

  When his gaze settled on my lips, Lindsey cleared her throat, adjusted her willow branches to check her watch. “We’re leaving in exactly one hour,” she said, then pointed at me. “Prepare to get your groove on.”

  Luc narrowed his gaze at her. “You said there wouldn’t be strippers.”

  “There won’t be. A bachelorette can get her groove on without strippers. And, dare I say she is entitled to do so the night before she signs up for an eternity of . . .” She glanced cautiously at Ethan. “Of what I’m sure will be faithful and obedient service.”

  Ethan made a sound of doubt. “Faithful, yes. Obedient?” He gave me a considering glance. “Rarely.”

  “I’m obedient when it counts.”

  “And that is our cue to no longer be in this room,” Luc said. “Come on, Blondie.”

  “An hour,” Lindsey repeated, stealing another look at me. They walked on, and Ethan and I continued to his office.

  When we were alone, I slipped into his arms, savoring the steady sound of his heartbeat, the crisp smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body.

  “There haven’t been many moments like this lately,” he said, strong arms around me, head atop mine. “Not with wedding plans and supplicants and Nicole.”

  Nicole Heart was head of Atlanta’s Heart House and the founder of the Assembly of American Masters, the new organization of the Masters of the country’s twelve vampire Houses. Chicago had been through a lot supernaturally recently, mainly because a sorceress named Sorcha Reed, Chicago’s high-society version of Maleficent, had ripped through downtown Chicago. We’d taken her down—and prevented her from creating an army of supernaturals—and the mayor had been pretty happy with us. She’d escaped the CPD, but four months later, there’d been no sign of her, and the mayor had stayed happy with us. Nicole wanted to capitalize on those good feelings, which meant lots of phone calls and interviews for Ethan.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” I said. “I’ll be glad when tomorrow is done.”

  He arched a single golden eyebrow, his signature move. “You’re already ready for our wedding to be over?”

  “More that I’m ready for our lives to begin, and to be done with wedding planning. And,” I admitted, “to see what Mallory and Lindsey have in store.”

  “You’ll be good tonight.” As if sealing the obligation, Ethan lifted my chin with a finger, then lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, teasing. A hint of things to come. A promise and a dare.

  “As good-bye kisses go,” I said, when I could form words again, “that wasn’t bad.”

  “I’m saving some of my energy for tomorrow, of course.” His eyes went flat. “You know they want us to sleep separately.”

  Vampires weren’t usually superstitious, but they did like their rules. One of those, we’d been advised, was the bride and groom sleeping in different rooms so they wouldn’t see each other, even inadvertently, on their wedding night.

  “I saw Helen’s memo.” Another reason she wasn’t on my favorites list. “She wants to put me in my old room.”

  Ethan smiled. “That hardly seems fair, since I’ll have our suite to myself.”

  “You’re the Master,” I said in Helen’s clipped tone.

  “That is a disturbingly good impression.”

  “I know. I’ve heard it a lot the last few weeks.” The clock on the opposite wall began to peal its midnight chimes. “I should get dressed. Lindsey has specified our outfits.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Has she?”

  I patted his chest. “She has, and mine will be completely bachelorette-party appropriate.”

  “That’s what concerns me. You’ll be careful?”

  “I will, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. Not now.”

  The union of sorcerers, finally realizing that Sorcha’s destruction had been partly their fault, had set wards around the city. We couldn’t stop her from walking into the city—that was the CPD’s job—but if she attempted to use magic within that barrier, we’d know it.

  And for four months, there’d been nothing from Sorcha. And other than a run-in with some unethical ghost hunters and a murderous ghost a couple of months ago, Chicago had settled into a beautiful and golden summer.

  It was weird. And wonderful.

  “You’ll be good,” Ethan said, nipping at my ear. “Or I’ll be bad.”

  I’m pretty sure that was a win-win.

  Chloe Neill, author of the Chicagoland Vampires novels (Midnight Marked, Dark Debt, Blood Games), the Dark Elite novels (Charmfall, Hexbound, Firespell), and the Devil’s Isle novels (The Sight, The Veil), was born and raised in the South but now makes her home in the Midwest—just close enough to Cadogan House, St. Sophia’s, and Devil’s Isle to keep an eye on things. When not transcribing Merit’s, Lily’s, and Claire’s adventures, she bakes, works, and scours the Internet for good recipes and great graphic design. Chloe also maintains her sanity by spending time with her boys—her favorite landscape photographer (her husband) and their dogs, Baxter and Scout. (Both she and the photographer understand the dogs are in charge.)

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