Howling For You: A Chicagoland Vampires Novella (A Penguin Special from New American Library)

by Chloe Neill

  He kept his gaze on me, but paused.

  I nodded again, offering reassurance, and he left the room and closed the door behind him. A scream building in my chest, I slowly looked back at my oldest brother.

  “I am sick of you trying to control me and my life.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Are you of the misguided opinion that you’ve somehow meekly followed orders?”

  The snark in his voice rankled, and I had to fist my hands to keep from pummeling him. “The sarcasm isn’t helping.”

  “No, it probably isn’t. So how about the truth: You have a role to play, and you know it. Sure, you like spending time with Jeff. He’s a great guy. He’s loyal to the Pack. Always ready to serve. But he’s not a potential. He can’t be.”

  I swallowed, mustered my courage. “Then I’m done with potentials.”

  Magic spilled into the room, angry and biting like insects. I worked not to flinch.

  “Excuse me?” Gabriel asked, very slowly.

  It would have been easy to back down. To tuck my tail and slink out of the room, and let things be the way they’d been before. But that left me lonely and dishonest to myself, to Jeff, and to the potentials. So I gathered up my courage, and put it out there.

  “I’m done with potentials. I’m not going to meet any more of them. I’m going to date who I want to date, regardless of the type of shifter he is. And I’ll give up my place in the line of succession if that’s what it takes.”

  He looked at me, jaw clenched and twitching. “Is this your way of rebelling?”

  “Of course not.” It was, of course, but not in the way he meant. It was a rebellion against what we’d been taught, about who I’d been taught to be. But it wasn’t a rebellion for the sake of rebellion. It was about, for the first time, being true to myself.

  “I’ve done my part to protect the Pack, the crown. But it’s time to think about my future. I love him.” Tears rose to my eyes at the power of the admission. “He’s the other half of me, and I’ve known that for a long time. But I haven’t admitted it, and that’s not fair to him or me or anyone else.” I paused, looked up at my big brother, and the leader of my Pack. “I’ll give up the Pack for him. Because he’s worth the price. I’ll abdicate.”

  Of course Jeff was worth the price. He was the one who’d loved me regardless. The one who’d fought by my side despite the humiliation of potentials and dates. The one who made me laugh at myself, who understood me better than anyone in the world.

  It felt like a weight had lifted from my shoulders. My body felt lighter. My soul felt lighter. For the first time in my life, I felt like Fallon. Just Fallon, because he’d given me permission to be myself.

  For a long time, he just looked at me. And then one corner of his lip lifted. “Okay.”

  I stared at him. “Okay? That’s it?”

  “I wasn’t aware you were entertaining other answers.” He tilted up my chin, searched my eyes. “I love you, Fallon. And so do your other brothers. And so did Mom, and so did Pop. You are exactly who you’re supposed to be. No more, no less. And you always will be, whether the coronet is yours or not.”

  “What about the Pack?”

  “The Pack is the Pack.” Gabe gestured toward the door. “You were in that chapel. They know love. They know respect. That’s the foundation of the Pack. And if you can’t love—if you can’t be brave enough to put love first, even if you have to sacrifice to do it—you do the Pack no service. Cowards do the Pack no service.”

  I nodded, but put a hand on his arm. “You aren’t going to tell them now, are you? This is Connor’s night. This can wait.”

  He grinned. “Connor won’t remember a single damn thing about tonight. But you’ll remember the look of sheer panic on Eli’s face when we tell him he’s next in line.”

  The gleam in my eyes probably wasn’t especially graceful. But he was right. “Oh, yes,” I said. “Tonight is the night.”

  We walked back into the room, every shifter in the sanctuary turning to face us. Gabriel put a hand at my back, rubbed supportively.

  “There’s news to share,” Gabe said. “Our favorite Keene has made a decision about her future.”

  I pushed the words out in a rush, lest I lose the nerve. “I hereby abdicate. Give up my position in the line of succession.” I let my gaze find Jeff, whose eyes had gone fierce. “For love.”

  Noise erupted around me. I must have expected anger or disappointment, because their congratulations completely floored me.

  Ben picked me up, swung me around the room. “We’ve been waiting for this, sister.”

  I looked for Eli, searched his gaze for anger. As the shifter next in line, the decision would affect him most of all. But if I’d added pressure, he certainly didn’t look it.

  When Ben released me, I walked to him. “I should have talked to you first—” I began, but he shook his head, put a hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re allowed to have a life, Fal. You don’t have to ask me for permission to do that. Or any other yahoo in the room.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Without a doubt,” he said, and for the first time, I saw in his eyes that same golden swirl of knowledge that I’d often seen in Gabriel’s. He may never lay claim to the Pack, but if he did, he’d be prepared.

  Eli embraced me, kissed the top of my head. “I believe someone’s waiting for you.”

  He released me, and I looked in the direction of his gaze.

  Jeff stood apart from everyone else, eyes shining with love and face beaming with happiness. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy.

  He grinned, held out a hand.

  I walked to him, biting my lip to hold back a grin that felt like it would have split my face. But he was impatient. He stepped forward, met me in the middle, and cupped my face in his hands.

  “I love you, Fallon Keene. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. And I will love you every day and night for the rest of my life.”

  Tears blossomed. “I love you, too.”

  With my family cheering and applauding around us, Jeff Christopher kissed me.

  And for the first time, all was right with the world.

  He’d made me wait in the living room, and I stood in front of the giant fish tank that stood opposite the picture window, watching clown fish dart back and forth across the water.

  When the bedroom door opened, I glanced back. Jeff stood in the doorway in a pair of silk boxers. I’d only seen him naked when we’d shifted, but that meant I wasn’t exactly paying attention to his nakedness.

  Jeff may have been lean, but he was well-hewn. He had the body of an endurance athlete, every inch and plane smoothed with muscle.

  “My eyes are up here, Fallon.”

  I took the admonishment, looked up at him with a grin, and found him smiling back with me.

  He held out a hand and beckoned me forward. And I followed him. In the doorway, he kissed me softly, then gestured toward the room.

  “Madam, your palace.”

  The bed was covered in pink rose petals, and a bottle of champagne was cooling in a sterling silver stand. A woman’s throaty voice crooned softly in the background.

  “This is . . . impressive,” I said.

  “Just wait.” He turned off the lights, and two dozen candles sprang to life around the room, which now glowed softly.

  “Magic?” I wondered.

  He grinned. “LEDs. I connected them to a circuit”—he began, but waved off the thought. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, we’re here. And I wanted this to be romantic. Just for us.”

  I nodded, but the intimacy in his eyes made me feel suddenly shy.

  He took my hand. Squeezed it. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, and looked away to avoid the intimacy in his eyes. But he tipped my chin back to meet him again.

  “Honesty between us,” he said. “Just me and you. Okay?”

  I looked at him, remembered the trust I’d already put him, and no
dded. “Just nervous. It’s me and you—and we’re—well, you know.”

  He smiled. “I know. But it’s me and you. And we don’t have a timetable.”

  He led me to the bed and tugged the belt on the robe he’d let me borrow. It fell to the ground, revealing the long, black negligee I’d worn beneath it, a slick fall of bias-cut silk.

  “You look . . . absolutely amazing.” The adoration in his eyes left little doubt of his sincerity.

  “Thank you. You look pretty delectable yourself.”

  He put his arms around me, drew me forward against the long line of his body, and kissed me. And this time, there was no restraint, no fear, no caution. His kiss was possessive—and also victorious.

  We tumbled onto the bed, Jeff apologizing when he tangled in the silk that fell to my ankles. He rolled me atop him, plucked a rose petal from my hair, then pulled my mouth to his and kissed me again.

  His lips were so soft, the kiss so tender. But somehow, missing something.

  He drew back, pushed the hair away from my face. “Are you alright?”

  I propped my arms on either side of his head. “Honestly, I still feel a little ungainly right now.”

  He squinted, scratched at his temple. “I kind of know what you mean.”

  He sat up, surveyed the room. “I think maybe this isn’t us. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I like romance as well as the next guy.” He picked up a handful of rose petals, and let them fall like water from his hand. “I’m just not sure this is our kind of romance.”

  I looked around at the scene he’d prepared. It was all perfect, and right out of the romance playbook. But maybe not our particular romance playbook. “I think you’re right. What do we do?”

  He looked over at me. “Do you think you can juggle?”

  As it turned out, I could juggle. With some instruction.

  He’d stuck to boxers, but I’d switched out the negligee for another “Jakob’s Quest” T-shirt for the lesson, and we’d reassembled in the living room, where we had plenty of space to maneuver.

  Jeff was a marvel. Having seen him in full gaming frenzy, I didn’t doubt he had great hand-eye coordination. But watching him whip beanbags through the air in smooth and fluid arcs was seriously impressive.

  He taught me to toss one, then two, and I was feeling optimistic. But tossing the beanbags he’d pulled from a drawer with syncopation just wasn’t happening.

  I smiled at the pile of beanbags on the floor. “I can’t do this.”

  “You can,” he assured me, standing behind, hands at my waist to ensure I was standing up right and kept my elbows at my side.

  The beanbags hit the floor again . . . and then again . . . and then again.

  And then, by some miracle of gravity and inertia, I had it. The bags moved like competing waves, slipping by each other—and somehow landing in hand, where I tossed them into the air again.

  “I got it,” I said through clenched teeth, afraid to move. “I think I got it.”

  “You got it,” he said behind me, his excitement a buzz of magic at my back.

  And then . . . I didn’t have it.

  One of the bags bounced awkwardly off my hand, and when I instinctively reached for it, I tossed another off course. It plopped into the fish tank with a gurgle, the fish darting to their corners like boxers at the bell.

  Jeff punched both arms into the air. “Touchdown!” he screamed out, like I’d just made the winning throw at the Super Bowl.

  I burst out laughing . . . and couldn’t stop. I laughed until tears flowed from the corner of my eyes, until I was on my knees on the carpeted floor, until my stomach was aching from it.

  “The crowd goes wild!” Jeff shouted, running around the living room in a victory lap, pumping his arms in the air. He spiraled back to me, and held out his hand, fisted to hold an imaginary microphone.

  “Ms. Keene, you’ve just scored your fourteenth winning touchdown in this record-setting game. How are you going to celebrate?”

  Still hiccupping with laughs, I mopped at my cheeks and looked up at him, grinning foolishly. Grinning adorably.

  This, I realized, was us. Not playing at a kind of movie and magazine romance that didn’t really interest us.

  But laughing together. Learning together. Loving together. That was our particular romance. And it was a heady brew.

  He was still crouched in front of me when I saw the sudden intensity in his eyes, that shift from humor to seduction. This time, I didn’t shy away.

  I reached out, put a hand to his cheek, and swooned when he closed his eyes, lips curving with pleasure. I leaned forward, pressed my lips to his and kissed him softly. Just a small kiss, a small enticement.

  He opened his eyes, surprise on his face. “You’ve never kissed me like that.”

  I frowned. “Like what?”

  “Like you needed to do it.”

  Love swamped me, ferocious in its desire to make him see what I’d known for a very long time. That he’d always been the only one, even if I’d denied it.

  I put my hands on his face, met his gaze. “I need you. I’ve always needed you. I just didn’t allow myself to admit it.”

  He growled low in his throat, and his mouth was on mine before I’d even processed the sound. It was less a kiss than a battle, and we both intended to win.

  We pulled clothing with animal ferocity, tearing at them like they were burning us alive. I found his elastic waistband and released him, and he fell, heavy and hard, into my hand.

  “Jesus, Fallon,” he said against my mouth, as I handled him well and thoroughly, his body fairly vibrating with pleasure. “I need to be inside you.”

  He stripped me of the clothing that remained and stared down at me.

  “Jeff?”

  He held up a finger. “Un momento. I’m savoring this moment. Committing it to memory.” He slid the flat of his hand down the middle of my body, then lifted it again to cup my breast.

  My body sang with pleasure, eyes drifting shut from the sensations that I’d imagined for so long, finally real.

  His mouth clamped on mine again, and he pressed me down to the thick carpet beneath us, his arousal between our bodies, eager for action. With hands and fingers he teased and entreated, his kisses brutal. I dug fingers into his back, pulling him closer.

  “Jeff. I need you.”

  He growled, low in his throat, and without argument or delay, spread his body over mine and thrust powerfully. He made a noise that sounded like relief, but relief wasn’t on his mind, not for me.

  Sweet and geeky Jeff, lover of games, knew how to move. Each nearly brutal motion rode the line between pain and pleasure as his mouth tortured mine. Our magicks rose again, keeping pace as pleasure swamped us, and exploding through the room when we cried out the other’s name.

  It was twenty minutes before I could feel my legs again. I glanced at him beside me, smiled. “I’m not sure how we’re going to improve on this.”

  He didn’t even pause. “I have several very specific ideas.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, and had the sense he’d been saving that response for a very long time.

  “Oh?” I turned to my side to face him, propping myself on an elbow. “And what ideas are those?”

  “Costumes.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Princess Leia. Wonder Woman. Silk Spectre. Mystique. Hit Girl. So many options.”

  “I’m not putting on a costume to satiate your prurient fantasies,” I said, lying back on the floor again.

  And then I thought about who he was, and who I was, and our kind of romance. “But if you’re willing to play Bruce Wayne, I might reconsider.”

  He was. So I did.

  Read on for a special preview of

  WILD THINGS

  the Chicagoland Vampires novel

  coming in February 2014!

  Chapter One

  Midnight Rider

  Mid-February

  Chicago, Illinois

&nbs
p; Within the last ten months, I’d become a vampire, joined Chicago’s Cadogan House, and become its Sentinel. I’d learned how to wield a sword, how to bluff a monster, how to fall, and how to get back up.

  Perhaps most of all, I’d learned about loyalty. And based on the magic that was pouring through the House’s first-floor hallway, I hadn’t been the only one who’d taken that particular quality to heart.

  Dozens of Cadogan’s vampires stood in the hallway outside the office of our Master, Ethan Sullivan, waiting for a call, for a word, for a plan. We stood in our requisite Cadogan black with our katanas at our sides because Ethan—our Liege and my lover—was preparing to run.

  “Out of one fire and right into another,” said the attractive blond vampire beside me. Lindsey was a member of Cadogan’s guard corps and a skilled and capable fighter, but tonight she looked, as usual, more like a fashionista than a century-old vampire guard. She’d left her suit jacket downstairs and had matched her satin-striped black tuxedo pants with a white button-down and four-inch stiletto heels.

  “Do they actually think we’d just let them take him?” she asked. “That we’d let them arrest him—our Master—right there in front of the House?”

  An hour ago, a Chicago Police Department detective—fortunately, one of our allies—had come calling, advising us that the city’s prosecutor had obtained a warrant for Ethan’s arrest.

  Ethan had killed Harold Monmonth, a powerful vampire from Europe who’d murdered two human guards before turning his sword on us. Ethan had acted in obvious self-defense, but violence had recently rocked the Windy City. Its citizens were afraid, and its mayor, Diane Kowalcyzk, was looking for someone to blame. She’d apparently managed to bring the prosecutor to her side.

  That’s why Ethan was sequestered in his office with Luc, the captain of Cadogan’s guards, and Malik, the House’s second in command, making a plan.

  Detective Jacobs suggested Ethan seek refuge with the Breckenridges, a family of shape-shifters who lived in Loring Park, a suburb outside Chicago. That meant he’d also be outside the mayor’s jurisdiction. The Brecks were über-wealthy, well connected, and politically powerful. That was a powerful combination and enough, we hoped, to keep the mayor from using him as a sacrificial lamb.