{"id":3035,"date":"2013-05-17T06:00:12","date_gmt":"2013-05-17T11:00:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=3035"},"modified":"2017-05-23T22:12:32","modified_gmt":"2017-05-24T03:12:32","slug":"biting-bad-first-chapter","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/?page_id=3035","title":{"rendered":"Biting Bad – First Chapter"},"content":{"rendered":"

Chapter One<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Winter Sentinel<\/strong><\/p>\n

Early February<\/em>
\n Chicago, Illinois<\/em><\/p>\n

\"BITING<\/a>I stared at the sleek steel blade, its honed edge only inches from my cheek, and tried not to flinch. I was taut with nerves and anticipation, my fingers slippery around the handle of my own ancient katana, my gaze flicking between the weapon that threatened me and the man who wielded it.<\/p>\n

\u201cNervous, Sentinel?\u201d asked the blond vampire before me, who held not one but two ancient samurai weapons.<\/p>\n

I wet my lips and readjusted my grip, trying not to let my prurient interest in my adversary\u2014the sweat-slicked, half-naked physique; the stunning green eyes; the golden hair that just brushed his shoulders\u2014distract me from my mission.<\/p>\n

Bringing. Him. Down.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot in the least, Sullivan.\u201d I winked at him, and in the second his eyes widened in interest, I took my chance. I dropped to my knees and used the handle of my katana to unbalance Ethan\u2019s right hand, forcing him to loose his sword.<\/p>\n

Well, one of his swords.<\/p>\n

My opponent was Ethan Sullivan, a four-hundred-year-old vampire and the Master of Cadogan House, one of three vampire Houses in Chicago. He was the vampire who changed me, rescuing me from a vicious attack one spring night.<\/p>\n

Now he was also the vampire who made me whole.<\/p>\n

I was the twenty-eight-year-old former graduate student he\u2019d shapted into an immortal warrior\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. and I loved having the opportunity to show him exactly what he\u2019d created.<\/p>\n

Tonight, that meant learning to battle with not just one but two gently curved katanas. Vampires loved katanas, preferring swords to guns\u2014primarily because vamps were an ancient and snobby people convinced to believe in katanas\u2019 superiority to other weapons by a samurai who\u2019d once roamed Europe.<\/p>\n

History aside, wielding two katanas was a tricky venture. The katana was an elegant weapon, and brandishing it was supposed to be an elegant exercise\u2014as much a dance as a show of cleverness and strength. That wasn\u2019t easily accomplished with two swords, which required learning how to rebalance my body\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. and not trip over my own weapons.<\/p>\n

Fortunately, even Ethan was having trouble. Scowling, he picked up the sword he\u2019d dropped onto the tatami mat on the floor of the House\u2019s basement training room.<\/p>\n

The vampires on the balcony who watched our practice with eager eyes cheered as their hero, the Master of their House, prepared to fight again.<\/p>\n

And they weren\u2019t the only ones watching.<\/p>\n

My former teacher of swordcraft, Catcher Bell, a mutual friend and sorcerer, was absent from tonight\u2019s festivities, busy with other work. We\u2019d found a replacement, albeit one who was less than impressed with our initial efforts.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was damned ungainly,\u201d said the auburn-haired vampire in front of us.<\/p>\n

Grey and Navarre were the city\u2019s two other vampire Houses, and our teacher was captain of the Grey House guards. Jonah was tall, handsome, and auburn haired, and my partner in the Red Guard, a clandestine organization created to ensure the Houses and Greenwich Presidium, the ruling body for the North American and Western European vampire Houses, didn\u2019t overstep their bounds. We weren\u2019t technically a part of the GP anymore, having seceded when the group became too oppressive, but there was little doubt they still had the power to make our lives miserable. Guarding the guardians was never a bad idea, in my opinion.<\/p>\n

Ethan had accepted my RG membership, but he was still working on accepting my partnership with Jonah. He preferred my loyalties remain solely with one vampire of the male persuasion\u2014him. They\u2019d reached an accord about me after working out their aggression in a sparring match at the House, even if they weren\u2019t exactly the best of friends. Ethan still scowled at Jonah\u2019s comment.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t ungainly,\u201d Ethan said. \u201cIt was awkward.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I teased, \u201cit was the result of strategic tactics by yours truly.\u201d I put extra emphasis on the hard \u201cc\u201d sounds to underscore the point.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was luck,\u201d Jonah countered. \u201cAnd it wasn\u2019t especially pretty. You\u2019ve both got to think of the katanas as extensions of your body. I know it\u2019s awkward, but you\u2019ll get used to it. Try again.\u201d<\/p>\n

I rolled my left wrist, which was beginning to ache. Vampires had greater than average strength, but we\u2019d been practicing for an hour, and Jonah hadn\u2019t exactly been generous with the water breaks.<\/p>\n

\u201cProblem?\u201d Jonah asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust a little soreness.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll be fine. Reset.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t help but give him a look. It wasn\u2019t that I\u2019d expected my RG partner would be an easygoing instructor. He was responsible for keeping the Grey House guards ready for action, after all. But nor had I expected him to be a total hard-ass.<\/p>\n

\u201cReset,\u201d Jonah repeated, a little more firmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cShould I remind him I\u2019m a Master?\u201d Ethan quietly asked beside me, rolling the swords in his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he prepared to spar again.<\/p>\n

Jonah\u2019s hearing must have been acute. \u201cYou\u2019re Master of Cadogan House,\u201d he said, \u201cnot dual swords. Reset.\u201d<\/p>\n

The crowd of vampires hooted, spurring us on just as Jonah did.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo katanas are trickier than one,\u201d Ethan muttered.<\/p>\n

The same applied, I thought, to vampires. Especially vampires of the male persuasion.<\/p>\n

# # #<\/p>\n

An hour and a shower later, we returned to the House\u2019s third-floor apartment, the small set of rooms that we called home.<\/p>\n

My work night was done, but in a few minutes, I\u2019d be heading into a frosty February evening. And since I was hoping to make a better impression than \u201csweaty vampire,\u201d I found myself in the closet amid Ethan\u2019s expensive suits and polished shoes, worrying over what to wear.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnkle boots or knee-high?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Ethan leaned casually against the wall, one foot canted in front of the other and an amused expression on his face. \u201cDoes it really matter what you wear?\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave him a flat look.<\/p>\n

\u201cSentinel, you are an intelligent woman, with a solid sense of honor, an excellent pedigree, and a master\u2019s degree\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNearly a doctorate.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNearly a doctorate,\u201d he allowed, \u201cin English literature, and yet you\u2019re worried about your choice of footwear. It\u2019s not as if you have a date.\u201d<\/p>\n

And a good thing, since Ethan and I had been living together for nearly two months. I had a key to prove it, although I was still getting used to the idea that the Cadogan penthouse was also mine.<\/p>\n

Still, date or not, it wasn\u2019t wise to underestimate a Chicagoan\u2019s love of good winter footwear. Frostbite was no one\u2019s friend.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know I don\u2019t have a date. This just feels\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. important.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the fifth or sixth time, I sat down on a padded ottoman and switched out my shoes, exchanging ankle boots\u2014cute, but not warm\u2014for knee-high leather boots, tugging them over the jeans I\u2019d paired with a shirt and sweater. The boots were dark brown leather and fitted perfectly, ideal for long and dark winter nights.<\/p>\n

When I\u2019d pulled them on, I stood up and posed in front of the closet\u2019s full-length mirror.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is important,\u201d Ethan agreed, scanning my reflection. \u201cShe was your friend for a very long time. You\u2019re both attempting to pick up the pieces of your relationship to see if they still fit together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. And it\u2019s still awkward. And it still makes me nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n

The \u201cshe\u201d in question was Mallory Carmichael. My former best friend and roommate, a relatively new sorceress attempting to redeem herself after an unfortunate period as a real-life wicked witch. She was currently atoning for her sins by living without magic and performing menial labor for the alpha of the North American Central Pack. She seemed to be regaining control of herself, but neither Ethan nor I was entirely sure of her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look nervous,\u201d Ethan agreed.<\/p>\n

I sighed. \u201cNot helpful. I was hoping for something a little more complimentary. Like \u2018Merit, you don\u2019t look nervous; you look ravishing.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrap,\u201d he said, shaking his head.<\/p>\n

I met his gaze in the mirror. \u201cIt\u2019s not a trap.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt is a trap,\u201d Ethan assured with a grin, \u201cbecause there\u2019s no response I can give that you\u2019ll actually believe.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave him a dubious expression. \u201cTry me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan, who looked devilishly handsome in his fitted black suit, stepped behind me, brushed the long dark hair from my neck, and planted a kiss at the crux of my shoulder, sending a delicious chill along my spine.<\/p>\n

\u201cSentinel, you are always the most beautiful woman in the room, irrespective of what you\u2019re wearing. And most especially\u2014and preferably\u2014when you\u2019re wearing nothing at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

How did men manage to offer a compliment that transitioned from sweet to utterly salacious in the span of a few words? Still, a compliment was a compliment, and Ethan Sullivan was a master complimenter.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re welcome.\u201d He checked his large and undoubtedly expensive watch. \u201cI have a call in a few minutes. You should probably get going.\u201d<\/p>\n

I huffed at the doubt in his voice. \u201cMy steed is trusty and will get me there on time.\u201d I talked a big talk, but in fact I\u2019d be driving a well-worn Volvo across Chicago in February. The odds were not in my favor.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now you\u2019re beginning to sound like Jeff,\u201d Ethan said.<\/p>\n

Jeff Christopher was a friend and colleague, a lovable nerd and shape-shifter I\u2019d met through my grandfather, Chicago\u2019s former liaison to all folks supernatural. Jeff was tech savvy and a fan of role-playing games\u2014I\u2019d recently seen him in head-to-toe ranger garb, from boots to hood\u2014so my reference to a \u201ctrusty steed\u201d was right up his alley.<\/p>\n

\u201cJeff has saved our butts on a number of occasions,\u201d I pointed out.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell aware, Sentinel. But you must agree he does it with his particular flair.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe does. His own furry flair. Oh, and speaking of, you still haven\u2019t paid me on our little bet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t win our little bet, Sentinel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guessed Jeff was a puma.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd as I\u2019ve pointed out many times, Jeff isn\u2019t a puma.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave him a sarcastic look. \u201cHe\u2019s also not a marmot, which was your guess. Mine was closer; thus I win.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cClose doesn\u2019t count. It was a draw.\u201d<\/p>\n

I rolled my eyes. I wasn\u2019t going to give up my position, but I didn\u2019t have time to argue the finer points of animal taxonomy today.<\/p>\n

\u201cEither way, furry makes a nice change from stodgy vampire.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVampires are not stodgy,\u201d Ethan said, pushing his hands into his pockets and staring back at me, stodgily.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are, but that\u2019s your particular flair.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan arched an eyebrow, a move he used frequently to portray many of the emotions in his arsenal\u2014doubt, imperiousness, wickedness, among them.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do realize, Sentinel, that you\u2019re one of us?\u201d<\/p>\n

I let my eyes silver, an effect that appeared when vampires felt strong emotions, to demonstrate just how much like him I really was\u2014and the depth of my emotion about it. \u201cI never doubt it. Anyway,\u201d I said, changing the subject, \u201cwhat\u2019s your call about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDarius. Apparently there are rumors he\u2019s no longer strong enough to hold the GP together. Morgan and Scott wanted to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause Darius was kidnapped?\u201d I wondered aloud. Darius West was the leader of the Greenwich Presidium. Although we were technically Rogue vampires since we lacked a GP affiliation, Ethan maintained friendly relations with Scott Grey and Morgan Greer, the Masters of Grey and Navarre Houses, respectively. It also helped that we\u2019d recently saved Darius\u2019s life, rescuing him from an assassin hired by the city\u2019s new supernatural \u201cliaison,\u201d John McKetrick.<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly,\u201d Ethan agreed. \u201cI understand the other GP members are pleased we saved him, but concerned he needed saving in the first place.\u201d<\/p>\n

The GP was populated by vampires revered for their strength, if not their magnanimity.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t surprise me they\u2019d question his abilities,\u201d I said, grabbing a short camel trench coat from a hanger and shrugging into it. The coat had been a gift from Ethan, who was afraid the thin leather jacket I usually wore on Sentinel excursions wasn\u2019t warm enough for February. I didn\u2019t need him to ply me with gifts\u2014I was plenty pliant already\u2014but the coat was warm and fit perfectly, so I\u2019d decided not to argue.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll be careful out there?\u201d Ethan asked. A line of worry appeared between his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will. But we\u2019re just going for pizza. And Luc knows where I\u2019ll be, just in case of a zombie apocalypse.\u201d<\/p>\n

My chain of command was complicated. I stood Sentinel for the House, a sort of soldier for Cadogan and all that it stood for. But I wasn\u2019t a House guard per se, which meant Luc, captain of the Cadogan guards, wasn\u2019t exactly my boss. Neither was Ethan, for that matter, since I technically had the authority to override him if he wasn\u2019t acting in the House\u2019s best interests. But Luc was at least my acting supervisor, so I\u2019d filled him in on my plan for the evening.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d Ethan said. \u201cAnd I know you need a break. We\u2019ve both been working a lot of hours lately.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019ve been keeping an eye on McKetrick, and you\u2019ve been\u2014\u201d I looked at him sideways. \u201cWhat have you been doing again?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRunning this House of vampires?\u201d he dryly asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, yes,\u201d I said with a nod. \u201cRunning this House of vampires.\u201d<\/p>\n

He grinned a bit, then slid a tendril of dark hair behind my ear. \u201cIn all seriousness, we should arrange to spend some quality time together.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gave him a sly smile, because I happened to have anticipated his request.<\/p>\n

\u201cI agree completely,\u201d I said. \u201cWhich is why I\u2019ve made dinner reservations on Friday at Tuscan Terrace, Chicago\u2019s finest Italian bistro. Homemade pasta. Fine champagne. Truffles. These little dessert cakes that are nearly better than Mallocakes. We\u2019ll celebrate in style.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tuscan Terrace was an old-school Chicago restaurant, where waiters spoke mostly Italian, the rooms were dark, and privacy was guaranteed. It was delicious and expensive, the type of place you saved for a special occasion.<\/p>\n

Ethan furrowed his brow. \u201cTo celebrate what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t remember what Friday is?\u201d<\/p>\n

His stare went blank, and his expression had a decidedly deer-in-headlights look about it. I\u2019d stumped him.<\/p>\n

\u201cFriday is February fourteenth,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s Valentine\u2019s Day.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d been single for so much of my adult life that Valentine\u2019s Day hadn\u2019t, in context, meant much. Sure, I\u2019d occasionally been given tired roses in a green vase, or a heart-shaped box of mediocre chocolates. But those gifts had been few and far between.<\/p>\n

This relationship was real, which meant I could\u2014for the first time\u2014experience a meaningful Valentine\u2019s Day. Not because of pink roses or nougat-filled chocolates, but because of us. Because I\u2019d found someone who made me better, stronger, and because, at least I liked to think, I did the same for him. That was worth celebrating, treasuring, being grateful for.<\/p>\n

It was worth tuxedoed waiters and delicate champagne flutes.<\/p>\n

\u201cSaint Valentine\u2019s Day, you mean,\u201d Ethan said with a chuckle. \u201cI\u2019m surprised you want to celebrate such a bloody day in Chicago\u2019s history.\u201d<\/p>\n

He meant the massacre on Valentine\u2019s Day in 1929, when Al Capone took out several men from a rival gang in a Lincoln Park garage.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know that\u2019s not what I mean.\u201d I picked a bit of lint from one of his lapels. \u201cLike you said, we deserve some quality time together, just the two of us. A few minutes of peace and quiet away from the House, where it won\u2019t matter if we\u2019re vampires.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat does sound inviting,\u201d Ethan admitted. \u201cA bit tempting of fate, perhaps, but inviting all the same. I look forward to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled at me wickedly, suggesting it wasn\u2019t so much the dinner he looked forward to, but what he hoped might happen afterward.<\/p>\n

Since imagining that scenario wasn\u2019t going to help us meet our obligations for the evening, I pressed a kiss to his lips \u201cI need to run.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s expression fell. Putting a hand on his chest, I could feel his heart thumping\u2014steady and sound\u2014beneath.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be careful,\u201d I promised. \u201cI\u2019ll have my sword and my phone. And besides, I\u2019ll be dining with one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes flattened. \u201cI know,\u201d he said. \u201cThat\u2019s precisely what worries me.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Order BITING BAD now<\/strong>\u00a0at\u00a0Amazon<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Barnes & Noble<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Books-A-Million<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Indiebound<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0iBooks<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0Audible<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

Note: \u00a0I am an Amazon affiliate and may earn a commission if you\u00a0buy goods\u00a0at\u00a0Amazon through\u00a0one of my links.<\/em><\/h6>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Chapter One The Winter Sentinel Early February Chicago, Illinois I stared at the sleek steel blade, its honed edge only inches from my cheek, and tried not to flinch. I was taut with nerves and anticipation, my fingers slippery around the handle of my own ancient katana, my gaze flicking between the weapon that threatened[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":2338,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3035","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3035","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3035"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3035\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7553,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3035\/revisions\/7553"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2338"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.chloeneill.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3035"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}