Dark Debt

by Chloe Neill

  Catcher ignored the supernatural smart-assery, reached out, and squeezed Mallory’s hand. “I do.”

  Jeff smiled, turned to Mallory. “And do you, Mallory Delancey Carmichael, take Catcher to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live, including accidental or intentional immortality?”

  Mallory shifted her gaze to Catcher, looked at him with love and awe and humility that made my tears start all over again. “I do.”

  Jeff nodded, gestured toward them. “There don’t appear to be many dry eyes right now, but just to make certain everyone’s appropriately emotional, would you like to address each other, offer some vows?”

  Catcher scratched absently at his neck, and I waited for his gruff refusal. But instead he nodded deeply. “Yeah, actually, I would.”

  “Me, too,” Mallory said. She handed me the peony, and they took each other’s hands, turned to face each other.

  For a moment, they said nothing. They stood with love between them, in a silence that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

  I ignored the tears that fell now, let them slide down my cheeks.

  “We’ve had some tough times, kid,” he said, and a warm chuckle spread through the crowd. “I know, understatement. So they were the toughest times. Times when we didn’t know which way was up, or who we were individually—or together. I let you down. Jesus, did I let you down. I let my own petty bullshit blind me, let it keep me from seeing you for who you were, and who you were becoming. And that’s on me, and it will be forever.

  “But it didn’t matter that I’d let you down, because you were strong enough for both of us. You put in the effort. You did the work, even when it was humiliating. Hell, you did the work because it was humiliating, and you started from scratch. And that meant a lot. ’Cause yeah, you did it for you, so you could find yourself again. But I think you also did it for us.”

  Tears spilled over Mallory’s lashes as she nodded.

  “I love you,” he said. “I don’t like to talk about feelings, primarily because I have testicles, and I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I think I’ve known I loved you since the first time I saw you, right before I kicked Merit’s ass for the first time at the gym.

  “Since that moment, I never stopped loving you. I was afraid for a while, sure, but I never stopped. And I won’t. For better or worse, I won’t ever stop.”

  “Well said,” Ethan remarked, and we all applauded the speech before turning our eyes to Mallory.

  “I haven’t known much of family,” she said. “A bit here and there, but not in the way most people do. That bothered me for a really long time, and I searched for it for a really long time. And then I made a new kind of family.” She glanced at me. “I met Merit, and we had some wonderful times.”

  I smiled back at her.

  “And then I met Catcher, and we had some wonderful times. But something was still off, inside me.” She frowned. “I screwed up pretty monumentally, mostly because I mistook power for comfort. I was looking for peace, to fill that well inside me that hadn’t ever really been full before, and I thought magic was the way to do it.” She looked around at all of us. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you all, but I think it’s important that I say it now. I thought I needed to fill that empty space. But the more I filled it with magic, the darker and emptier it became.”

  Tears slipped to fall down her cheeks. “I betrayed a lot of people in that time, a lot of trust.” She shook her head, smiled a little. “But you people were stubborn, and you wouldn’t let me go. You just kept interfering, trying to pull me away from it. And eventually, you did.”

  She looked back at Catcher. “That darkness is still there. That emptiness. It’s like a well in the plane of my soul. But I’ve learned, I guess, that I have to fill that up. That it’s my responsibility to do that. So, I guess I wanted to explain that to you all, to let you know that I’m working on it.”

  She shook her head again as if to clear it, raised her gaze to Catcher. “Of all the supernatural bombs dropped on me that very first week, you were easily the biggest. Pain-in-the-ass sorcerer, grumpy most of the time, addicted to Lifetime. But you loved me, even with the well, even with the darkness. And you didn’t give up, even when you could have walked away. And that means more to me than you will ever know.” She sniffed. “I love you, Catcher Eustice Bell.”

  Catcher’s eyes, suddenly red-rimmed, bloomed with tears. “I love you, Mallory Delancey Carmichael.”

  Jeff cleared his throat. “In that case, I think it’s time to say that by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You can kiss the bride!”

  As we erupted with applause, Catcher drew Mallory toward him, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her so furiously even I blushed. When he finally drew back, Mallory’s cheeks were pink and flushed, her eyes glazed, a glow of happiness around her.

  Love wasn’t perfection. It wasn’t always roses and candy. Hell, it wasn’t even mostly roses and candy. Sometimes it was battling back fear that loomed like a leviathan, trying to find a way through misery, being grateful to have a companion who knew your strengths and weaknesses, and loved you not just in spite of them, but because of them.

  Love was acceptance. Love was bravery. Love was sticking it out.

  One day, Ethan said silently, squeezing my hand, promising me what was to come.

  When the time is right, I said, and squeezed back, the agreement between us reached.

  When the time is right, he agreed, and pressed a kiss to my temple.

  Still in Catcher’s embrace, Mallory smiled at me, pointed to the peony in my hand. “You know, Mer, you’re holding the bouquet. I think that means you’re next.”

  And perhaps sooner rather than later, Ethan said with a chuckle.

  * * *

  When Catcher and Mallory dashed off to their make-do honeymoon, and the rest of the guests had left, Ethan and I walked inside again.

  He wanted to check his messages, determine if there was any other business he’d need to attend to before, we’d decided, we’d take the rest of the night off for an evening of pizza and movies in our apartments. Nothing sounded better.

  At least until Ethan’s office door closed, and the lock slipped into place with a quick snap of metal.

  I looked up from my seat on the couch, found him staring at me. His jacket was off, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, hands on his lean hips.

  “Sullivan?”

  “Sentinel.” He strode forward. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”

  We did. And with Julien Burrows behind us, the threat of him gone, the desire I’d banked came rushing back. I rose from the sofa, walked toward him.

  “You are the most desirable creature I have ever seen.”

  “You aren’t seeing what I’m seeing,” I said. The glamour, the magic of the evening, the defeat of Julien Burrows and the ghost of Balthasar had given me a buzz of power and confidence. I decided to use it to advantage.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Are you giving me orders, Sentinel?”

  I met his gaze with my own, and when he saw that I wouldn’t back down, he moistened his lip. Given his obvious and growing arousal, he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

  “Very well, then.”

  He stepped out of his shoes, kicked them away. Then he unhooked one button, then the next, each revealing another inch of his flat and solid abdomen. When the shirt was open, he slid it off his shoulders, and his eyes darkened to the color of a deep forest.

  “Next?” he asked.

  My heart was thudding in my ears as I watched him watch me, but I managed a word. “Belt.”

  “As you wish.” He unhooked it, slid it through the loops with a snap of sound, looped th
e black leather around his hand in a manner that was equally arousing. It was a hint of experiences we hadn’t shared. But if his knowing gaze was any indication, that wouldn’t be the case forever.

  “You look intrigued, Sentinel.”

  “How could I not be?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Pants.”

  His eyebrow arched. “You’re fully clothed. That would leave me utterly naked.”

  “And in your office. Where I plan to seduce you well and thoroughly. I gave you an order, Sullivan.”

  His body flushed with desire, eyes hooded with anticipation as he unbuttoned, unzipped, and let the pants fall to the floor. Beneath, he wore boxer briefs, the rigid line of his arousal obvious beneath them.

  This time, I wet my lips.

  He walked toward me. “I believe it’s time to claim what’s mine.” He reached me and, before I could object, lifted me into the air and crossed the room. He sat me atop the conference table, stood between my knees, and captured my mouth with a brutal kiss.

  His hands slid down my body, cupping my breasts, inciting the fire in my core. His hands found the dress’s zipper, and it fell away, revealing the red bustier. He took only a moment to appreciate it before ripping it away. His eyes flashed silver before he found them with teeth and tongue until my head dropped back, the pulse in my ears like a timpani drum.

  He pulled the rest of the fabric away, stripping me of sense and leaving me breathless and naked. And when we faced each other, naked and vulnerable, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.

  “Lie back,” he said, and guided my head back to the tabletop, the polished wood cool beneath feverish and heated skin.

  He slid down my body, using hands and lips and teeth to drive me to the brink.

  When his fangs grazed the inside of my thigh, my head shot up. But the sight of him between my thighs, eyes silver and fangs bared, silvered my eyes.

  Timing is everything, he said silently.

  When he bit, fangs piercing tender skin, it was like gold rushed through my veins—hot and metallic and precious. Pleasure overtook me, blinded me, had me crying out his name.

  And then he stood again, and his hand was above my heart, tracing a path to my abdomen. “You are so beautiful.”

  I opened my eyes, looked up at him, blond and muscled, his eyes silvered, his mouth swollen. “You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Will ever see, probably.”

  “Correct,” he said, and joined our bodies with a powerful thrust that arched my back. “As you’re mine, and mine alone.”

  “Ethan,” I said, and he anchored our hips together. Thrust again, and again, until he’d blocked out all sensations other than the union of our bodies, the arch of his body over mine.

  I opened my eyes. “Call me,” I said, and his eyes went dark.

  “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

  I didn’t. But if I was destined to be a vampire, I was entitled to know what other vampires knew. To feel what other vampires felt, and not because of violation or threat. Because, as Lindsey had discussed, of trust, and love, and connection.

  I lifted a hand to his face, smiled as wickedly as I could. “I’m not proving anything. I’m taking what I’m owed.”

  His eyes flashed with desire.

  “I want that between us, Ethan.”

  He nodded. “Very well, then. Close your eyes, Sentinel.”

  At first, he only said my name. Merit, the word a soft embrace. He was, I knew, acclimating me to the sensation, preparing me for what was next.

  And it was something entirely new . . . and entirely different.

  He said my name again. Merit. But this time, it wasn’t just sound, but a calling. It was as if his voice were a light in the darkness, the bright world that waited at the end of a passageway. There would be no loneliness for me. No more isolation. Because he had created me, this Master of vampires, and made me something wonderful and magical and immortal.

  I felt my lips part, felt sound escape them. He answered with a driving thrust that echoed through me like the thrum of a bowstring.

  He called my name each time he drove into me, so that every part of my body seemed in synchronicity with his.

  “I love you,” I said breathlessly, my body taut with anticipation. “God, I love you. I love you.”

  I love you, he said to me, without sound, but no less meaningful. Merit, he said again, calling my body home, sending me over the edge. Pleasure sparked through me like a live wire. I lost my breath on a gasp, my body bowing like the crest of a wave, the entire universe and its history in my mind.

  And Ethan in my heart.

  “I don’t suppose,” I said after some long minutes had passed, when he lay beside me on the conference table, breathing in tatters, “that you’d like to tell me about that nickname you had for me.”

  Ethan chuckled. “And ruin the mood? No, Sentinel. I don’t believe I do.”

  He rose, covered my body with his. “And I’ve ways of making you forget the very question.”

  I let him prove that.

  EPILOGUE

  He messaged me just after midnight, asked for a meeting. And when I walked into Dirigible Donuts, a late-night favorite in the Loop, Morgan Greer sat at a small metal table, a foam cup of black coffee in front of him.

  He looked up at the sound of the bell on the door, and the young man behind the counter smiled, but the look didn’t reach his weary eyes. “Welcome to Dirigible Donuts. How can I help you?”

  His voice was monotone, and just as tired.

  I grabbed and paid for a bottle of water, sat down in the aluminum chair across from Morgan.

  He smiled nervously, scratched a hand through his hair. He looked tired. That didn’t detract from his handsomeness—it sharpened the edges in a pretty nice way, actually.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  I nodded. “I’m not really sure why I’m here.”

  “I guess I wanted to talk through some things.” He paused. “I think you got to know me, Mer. For a little while, anyway. Before things got complicated. Before all this—the drama, the spectacle. I’m not perfect. I’m not aiming to be. But I’d like to be better than I was.”

  “I can’t give you redemption.”

  “I know.”

  “Celina changed everything, Morgan. Hopefully, they’ve realized by now the amenities will have to change. Belts will have to be tightened. But even beyond that, this isn’t the Chicago she ruled two years ago. She changed the landscape, with other Navarre vampires beside her.”

  “I know,” he said. “I think one of the reasons they loved her is that she kept them in the dark. Everything was wonderful—even when it wasn’t—because she didn’t tell them the truth. Because she sold them a very complicated lie about who they were and what the world believed of them.

  “They may not want to hear the truth,” he admitted. “And they may not let me back in because of it.” He paused, seemed to firm his determination. “If that’s what it comes to, so be it. But I can’t do this anymore. Trying to play her, to cajole people I don’t agree with. If they want someone else as Master, they should have it. I want to run the House differently. Not like Celina, not like Cadogan. Like me. Like Navarre.”

  With those four words, he sounded more like the Morgan I’d known before he bore that mantle of authority. He’d still been rash even then. Jealous and a little prickly, especially about me and Ethan. But he’d also been happy. And I hadn’t seen him happy in a very long time.

  “If worse comes to worst,” he said, “I’ll go my own way. Go Rogue, maybe hook up with your grandfather again.”

  I blinked. “My grandfather? What do you mean?”

  He grinned at me. “Didn’t you know? When he started out, I was the vampire who gave him information about the Houses.”
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  My eyes widened with shock . . . and appreciation. “That was you? You were reporting to the Ombudsman’s office while standing Second to Celina? Did you have a death wish?”

  Morgan laughed full out, so that even the clerk, now wiping down a counter probably sticky with powdered sugar and stained with coffee, smiled a little.

  “Maybe I was doomed from the beginning,” he said. “Maybe there was no way I could have held the House.”

  “You hold it,” I reminded him. “And you’ve held it since she died. Cadogan and Navarre may never be best friends. But there’s got to be a middle ground between friends and enemies, or for Navarre vampires, between narcissism and self-abnegation.”

  Wasn’t that, after all, precisely what Ethan had done? He’d avoided the worst of Balthasar’s selfishness, but was confident enough to make his own way in the world. To pick a route and undertake it, and damn those who disagreed. They could captain their own ships.

  “I’m sure there is,” Morgan said. “The question is, will they go for it?” He took a sip of his coffee, glanced at me over the rim with amusement in his eyes. “You interested in becoming Second of a new Navarre House?”

  There was literally zero chance I’d leave Cadogan House, much less for Navarre. It was an impossibility.

  But still . . . there was something in his question that intrigued me.

  I frowned down at the table, trying to unpack why it was interesting. Why the thought of standing Second was something I couldn’t just dismiss.

  I let myself imagine what might have happened if Morgan had asked the same question when he originally got the House, before I’d been committed to Ethan.

  If he’d asked, and I’d said yes, I’d be second-in-command of the oldest vampire House in the country, a House established the same year the U.S. Constitution had been ratified. (Joshua Merit could choke on that.) I could admit it—the possibility of helping lead a House was attractive.

  And if we were playing out this alternative history, I’d have become a kind of enemy to Ethan just as he’d been wooing me with seductive promises (and, admittedly, the occasional backslide into haughty arrogance). I imagined furtive glances at meetings between Cadogan and Navarre staff, a stolen kiss in the Navarre garden, a brush of fingers beneath the conference table, a pilfered night in the stacks of the Cadogan library.