“Gabriel,” he said. “Gabriel Keene.”
Head of the North American Central Pack.
Jeff had once referred to him as the most alpha of the alphas. When the limousine door opened, and he stepped booted feet onto the sidewalk, I understood why.
Gabriel was tall, broad-shouldered, intensely masculine. Thick, sun-streaked blond-brown hair reached his shoulders. His confidence was obvious in the bearing of his shoulders, the swagger in his step. He wore snug jeans and biker boots and, even in the muggy spring night, a zipped-up leather driving jacket. He was handsome, almost fiercely so, amber eyes shining, almost drowsily powerful. This was a man who’d proven all he needed to prove and was now intent on action, on leading his people, protecting his people.
“There are more than three thousand shifters in the North American Central,” Ethan whispered, eyes on the man, the shifter, before us. “And he’s the Apex, the alpha, among them. The American Packs are autonomous, so he is, for all intents and purposes, their king. He’s the political equivalent of Darius.”
I nodded, kept my gaze on Gabriel.
Another person emerged from a limo, a lovely brunette,
who moved to stand behind Gabriel, her delicate, wedding-ring-bound left hand resting on the gentle swell of an obvious pregnancy. She wore a fitted T-shirt and capris, her pink-tipped toes in flip-flops. Her sable hair was pulled back into a messy topknot, strands of it around her face. She wore no makeup, but didn’t need it anyway. She was freshly pretty, pale green eyes in the midst of a rosy complexion, bee-stung lips curved into a gentle smile.
She was truly, simply, lovely.
I guessed this was Tonya, Gabriel’s wife. The movement of his hand—he reached back, rested it on top of hers, linked their fingers together on her swollen belly, as if cradling his child—confirmed it.
“Sullivan,” Gabriel said, when they’d walked up the sidewalk, stood before us.
Ethan nodded. “Keene. This is Merit. She stands Sentinel.”
A grin quirked one corner of Gabriel’s mouth. “I know who she is.”
As if presenting his vulnerabilities for my inspection, he pivoted so that Tonya stood beside him, not behind him. Symbolic, I thought, and very un-vampirelike, this elevation of family.
“This is Tonya.” Their fingers still linked, he rubbed a thumb across her belly. “And Connor.”
I smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Her voice was dulcet soft, the slightest hint of a southern accent trickling through. “Lovely to meet you, Merit.”
When I glanced back at Gabriel, he was staring at me with eyes I’d swore swirled blue and green, the entirety of earth and existence contained there. Just like Nick’s. I stared at them, at the hypnotic ebb and flow of them, and I suddenly understood the differences between us.
Vampires were creatures of evening, of frost, of moonlight-tipped architecture, and empty, dark streets.
Shifters were creatures of earth, of sunlight, of sun-scorched savannahs and knee-deep grass.
We flew; they ran.
We analyzed; they acted.
We drank; they devoured.
Not enemies, but not the same.
I couldn’t,
was unable
, to argue with that kind of knowledge. “Sir,” I said, my voice hardly a whisper, my gaze still on his eyes.
He laughed, full and throaty, and I blinked, the spell broken. But he apparently wasn’t finished with me. He leaned down and whispered, “No need for formalities, Kitten. We’re practically family, you and I, the drama notwithstanding.” He leaned back, brow knitted, and gazed into my eyes. I had the sense he was looking through me, past me, into some future I couldn’t discern. The air tingled, magic flowing around us. “We lose them, don’t we, always?”
I had no idea what that cryptic message meant, or how to respond, so I stayed quiet, let him look through me. Suddenly, the air cleared, and he straightened again. “Fuck it. What can we do but do it, right?”
Gabriel turned back to Tonya, squeezed her hand, the question apparently rhetorical. When he turned around again, he looked at Ethan.
“We’ll be back. The Pack is convening, and we plan to meet in Chicago. I’m sure you’d heard the rumors, but out of respect for you and your people I wanted to give you a heads-up. I also understand that there’s been some drama lately, and I apologize for that.”
He waited until Ethan cautiously nodded before continuing. “And I want to talk to you about a certain arrangement for our conference, if you have time.” He turned his gaze to me. “Security-related arrangement.”
I could practically hear the wheels turning in Ethan’s head as he considered just how useful I might be. “Of course,” he responded.
Gabriel nodded, regarded Ethan, then glanced at me again. I could see evaluation in his eyes, but of what I didn’t know.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, then turned. His hand at the small of Tonya’s back, they walked back to the car. They climbed in, the limousine door closed again, and they were off.
“What did he say?”
I glanced at Ethan. He looked at me, his head just tilted to the side, obviously curious. Unfortunately, even if I’d wanted to tattle to the nosy little vampire, Gabriel’s comments had been completely obtuse, so I could hardly fill him in. “Something about our being family, me and him?”
Ethan arched a brow. “Family? Meaning what?”
I shrugged. “I just report the facts.”
We stood there quietly for a moment, the bulk of the House behind us, a dark summer evening before us. Whatever he thought about, he didn’t share. I wondered at Gabriel’s comment, about the inevitability of loss.
I knew it was coming, knew it waited for me, that the green-eyed devil beside me would most likely be involved in it. But, there being nothing I could do about it today, I shook off the feeling and turned back to the door, leaving him there behind me.
A few minutes later, in my room, I found it lying on the hardwood floor. Another crimson envelope, the same heavy stock, identical to the other. I picked it up and opened it, and just as I had the first time, pulled out an ivory card. The front bore the phrase that had been on the first card: YOU ARE INVITED.
But this time, when I flipped the card over, there were details about the party:
BUCKINGHAM FOUNTAIN. MIDNIGHT
I stared down at the card in my hand for a full minute, before stuffing it back into the envelope and checking my watch. It was eleven-forty.
I grabbed my sword, and went for the door. I’d solved one mystery. Might as well see what other trouble I could get into.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHLOE NEILL
was born in the South, but now lives in the Midwest, just close enough to Cadogan House to keep an eye on Merit and the rest of the vampires. When she’s not writing, she bakes, blogs, drinks insane amounts of diet soda, plays with her dog, and roots for her favorite college football team (Go Big Red!). If you’d like to learn more, visit Chloe online:
http://chloeneill.com
.