Biting Cold: A Chicagoland Vampires Novel (CHICAGOLAND VAMPIRES SERIES)

to meet together and drink blood. Not exactly popular restrictions for vampires who were basically living in a fraternity house.
    When Ethan had returned, he and Malik unceremoniously kicked Cabot to the curb.
    “How unwell did it go?”
    “No decisions have been made yet, but Darius has called a shofet . It’s an emergency meeting where the GP discusses matters of urgency.”
    Darius West was head of the Greenwich Presidium. His rank was so high that even Ethan referred to him as “sire.”
    “Like a rebellious American House that doesn’t seem to respect their authority?” I asked.
    “Like that,” Ethan said, but didn’t elaborate. I began to work over mental scenarios about Cadogan’s vampires being cast out into the night. Along with the more dire problems, I’d have to find an apartment. In Chicago, in winter. That would not make me happy.
    “Exactly how serious is this?”
    “Serious enough.” Ethan frowned and rubbed his temples.
    “Are you okay?”
    He smiled a little. “Just a bit of a headache. It will pass.”
    The atmosphere in the room had changed, from unfulfilled desire to political and magical anticipation. The sun chose that moment to breach the horizon; I couldn’t see it through the draperies, but the sudden weight on my eyelids was telling enough.
    “It seems certain things are not meant to be,” Ethan said.
    I nodded, unable to do much more. Vampires slept during the day, not just because direct exposure to sunlight would kill us, but because the rising of the sun pulled us into unconsciousness. We could fight the exhaustion, but it was a hard and losing battle. We’d succumb eventually.
    He seemed to understand my hesitation.
    “We both have other things, other people, on our minds,” he said. “There will be plenty of time for the remainder when we have addressed this particular crisis.”
    “And if we can’t?”
    “We will,” he said. “Because I will goddamned see you naked under much more auspicious circumstances before the year is up.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh at that.
    Ethan took his turn to freshen up, then emerged from the bathroom in pajama bottoms that didn’t leave much of his body to the imagination. His Cadogan medal hung just above the scar that puckered his chest—the mark he bore from taking Celina’s stake.
    Too soon for my preference, he flipped off the light, and we climbed onto the hard, creaky mattress. Ethan wasted no time in pulling my body against his.
    I relished the feeling, the glory, of having him there. Of his warmth, his scent, his energy, his everything .
    “We can do nothing to stop the rising of the sun,” he said. “So let us rest, and we will fight the good fight tomorrow.” He pressed me back tighter against him, and his arm snaked around my waist.
    Reflexively, I shivered.
    “Are you cold?”
    “It’s a habit. I used to have trouble falling asleep.”
    “Before the sun?”
    “Before the sun,” I agreed. “I’d be exhausted, but my mind would race with all the things I needed to do, papers I needed to grade, other nonsense. And so, I developed a little trick.”
    “Shivering?”
    “Imagining. I would hunker down into my blankets and close my eyes, and I would imagine it was wintertime and a storm was raging outside. Freezing temperatures. Chilling wind. Howling blizzard.”
    “Not exactly a comforting scenario.”
    “It wasn’t the blizzard that was comforting. It was the idea of being safe and warm inside.”
    “And it worked?”
    “I always fell asleep eventually.”
    Ethan chuckled. “Then tell me your story, Sentinel. Lull me to sleep.”
    I smiled and closed my eyes. “We’re off the coast of Alaska, on a freighter in the Bering Sea. It’s late summer, and the air is turning colder. The seas are calm, but there’s a brisk wind.”
    Ethan shivered a bit and stretched against me. Closer to me.
    “We’re in a stateroom. Nothing plush, but there’s a thick, soft mattress. We lie together, the wind whistling outside, the waves beneath us. We close our eyes, and as the world goes quiet, and the snow begins to fall, we fall asleep.”
    “A nice story,” Ethan quietly said. “But I have a tale to weave, as well. Imagine a roaring fire in the dark depths of a Chicago winter. Imagine the warmth of the fire against your skin—”
    “I’ll probably be wearing flannel pajamas,” I teased, but Ethan wasn’t fazed. He leaned in, his lips at my ear.
    “You’ll be wearing nothing but your Cadogan