Slaying It (Chicagoland Vampires #13.5)
Chloe Neill
1
My belly was enormous.
That wasn’t insecurity or ego or exaggeration. It was plain and simple fact.
I was thirty-seven weeks—or about eight months—into my pregnancy with the world’s first vampire baby. I was lucky to be expecting and excited to see my daughter. But I was sick of being pregnant.
I missed seeing my feet. Drinking caffeine. Sleeping on my back. Fitting into my leather jacket. Snacking by choice, not necessity. And I was tired of having Baby Sullivan, the watermelon of attitude we called “Peanut,” constantly kicking my bladder.
In just a few weeks—assuming a vampire gestation lasted as long as the human variety—we’d get to meet her.
I really couldn’t complain. We were both healthy and, so far, growing a vampire had followed the typical stages of growing a human. Given we’d have had to guess how to fix any problems, I was doubly grateful there hadn’t been any.
I waddled my way through the main hall of Chicago’s Cadogan House, preparing for one of the routines I’d created for myself over the last few weeks. Those included an obscenely large breakfast, a nightly walk around Hyde Park, and a brief workout with my katana so I didn’t completely lose my skills—although swinging a sword with a bun in the metaphorical oven wasn’t exactly poetry in motion.
It was walk time, so I’d paired a stretchy black shirt with leggings, a light jacket with a pocket for my phone, and tennis shoes. I’d pulled my long dark hair in a ponytail to keep it out of my way. It was my exercise uniform.
I reached an open office door and looked inside.
He stood in the middle of the room, suit jacket and tie discarded, white button-down fitted over every bit of hard flesh and muscle. His hair, golden to his shoulders, was tucked behind his ears, his green eyes narrowed as he frowned at the papers he held.
Ethan Sullivan was the Master of Cadogan House, the vampire who’d made me, and the Liege to whom I owed my allegiance. And for nearly a year, my husband.
“Problem?” I asked, walking toward him.
His head lifted, the furrow between his brows relaxing as he smiled at me. Ethan’s skills with a katana were deadly, and his gorgeous face was nearly as powerful. His nose was straight, his cheekbones honed, his mouth full and skilled, much to my delight. And like an exclamation, his wide emerald eyes were topped by sharp and decisive brows that signaled his mood better than nearly anything else.
“Hello,” he said when I reached him, then dropped his gaze my belly. “And how’s my girl today?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” My tone was dry since I was well aware he wasn’t talking to me. Ethan had taken to having conversations with my abdomen.
“Your mother appears to be in a mood,” he said.
“Her mother’s face is up here.”
Ethan lifted his gaze. “I was talking to her face.”
“I realize that. What were you frowning about?”
He tapped the documents with a finger. “The first draft from the mayor for the proposed agreement with the city.”
I looked at the papers distastefully. Cadogan vampires had saved Chicago several times over, but those efforts hadn’t always been damage-free. The scratches and dents weren’t our fault—we didn’t manifest the dragon that nearly knocked over the Water Tower—but we were more involved than most of Chicago’s other supernaturals, so when the mayor wanted funds to repair the destruction, she looked to us. Given the most recent harm had been done by a millionaire whose estate had plenty of money for repairs, we had trouble feeling sympathetic. But we were good citizens, so we’d agreed to negotiate.
The final deal was probably going to involve our staying out of future adventures, which wasn’t proving to be a problem lately. Chicago had been mostly battle-free in the post-dragon era. I hadn’t taken the katana out of the training room in weeks, partly because I was taking early maternity leave as Cadogan’s Sentinel and partly because there hadn’t been a need for it. And while I was glad Chicago had found peace, it was weird to shift from monster fighting to diaper-brand debating.
“Jonah’s coming over to discuss?” I asked.
“He is.”
Jonah was the captain of the Grey House guards, one of the other two vampire Houses in Chicago. Navarre was the third. Neither Grey nor Navarre would sign the contract with the city, but since the terms could potentially affect all three Houses, Scott Grey, Master of his eponymous House, had requested an opportunity to discuss them before the documents were executed. Jonah would review on Scott’s behalf.
“While I engage in the torture that is municipal negotiations, you’re going for your nightly constitutional?”
“I am,” I said.
“You have your phone?”
“I do. Not that I need it. The only exciting thing that’s going to happen on this little walk is a little more gossip from Mrs. Plum.”
Many of the House’s human neighbors had become friendlier after vampires had saved the city from the dragon and the evil sorceress who’d manifested it. That included the Plums and their matriarchal grandmother. She walked her dog or watered her prized flower beds every night, and I was pretty sure she timed both so she could gossip with me on the sidewalk. Which was fine by me. The Newtons, who lived across the street, were debating whether to adopt a corgi or a doodle of unknown variety, and I needed a pupdate.
It was only mildly disappointing that the puppy debate was the most interesting thing that had happened in Hyde Park in months.
“You’re a brave soldier,” Ethan said, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead.
That’s when I saw the box on the conference table. It was wrapped in glossy paper of robin’s egg blue, and tied with a gleaming silver ribbon.
“What’s that?” I asked, and Ethan glanced back.
“A gift from your parents. It was messengered earlier this evening.”
“They’re in Palm Springs,” I said. Neither my mother nor my sister-in-law, Elizabeth, had made it to the family baby shower. My parents had other priorities. My sister-in-law had my brother, who incorrectly believed Cadogan’s meddling had ruined his business opportunities. At least my sister had managed to make it.
“The wrapping is lovely,” Ethan said.
“It’s probably from Trudeau’s.” The luxury department store was one of my mother’s favorites. Partly because they hand-delivered gifts.
I appreciated the gift. But the fact that my parents had left the city for three months while I was pregnant—historically pregnant—didn’t make me feel better about our already rocky relationship.
“I’ll deal with it later,” I said, and turned away. “I don’t need the stress.”
“We’ll open it together tonight,” Ethan said. “And if we don’t like it, we’ll donate it.”
“My mother would hate that,” I said with the grin he’d undoubtedly intended. “Let’s call it a plan.”
Spring weather was unpredictable in the Midwest. Any given night could be too hot, too cold, or too windy and keep even the most adventurous Chicagoans indoors. But tonight was absolutely beautiful. Clear and warm, with just enough breeze to put the scent of lilacs in the air.
I took the sidewalk across the stately House’s front lawn to the gate, waved at the security guards who let me through. Chicago might have been peaceful, but we’d learned our lesson where security was concerned, and we’d bumped up the House’s protections.
I turned right out of habit, waved at the few paparazzi stationed outside with cameras, and kept my gaze ahead as I took the sidewalk to the corner.