Free House Rules by Chloe Neill Page B

the GP, some of the most powerful vampires in the world.
    Darius—tall, with a shaved head and an aristocratic manner—had the personality of
     an egotistical hall monitor.
    The other GP members, four men and two women, didn’t look familiar. I knew their names,
     and that they’d wreaked havoc in our House from an ocean away. But I could identify
     only one of them—Harold Monmonth, a class act who’d once helped Celina Desaulniers,
     the former Master of Navarre House, dispatch a woman who’d stood in her way. Celina
     had tried to kill me on several occasions, and when she threw the stake that killed
     Ethan, I returned the favor. Morgan Greer, whom I’d dated for approximately five minutes,
     took over as Master of the House after her bad behavior.
    There was a gap in the V between the last two individuals on the left-hand side. That
     was the spot, I guessed, that had once been held by Celina. But she was gone, and
     that was no doubt another reason why the GP didn’t care much for me.
    Ethan smiled thinly at Darius. “You’re early.”
    “But not unwelcome, I presume,” Darius said. Ironically, the statement was incredibly
     presumptuous.
    Before Ethan could get himself into any more trouble, Helen stepped beside us.
    “I’ve spoken with the manager at the Dandridge,” she said. “Your rooms have been prepared
     and are ready at your convenience.”
    The Dandridge Hotel was one of the most exclusive luxury hotels in Chicago, small
     but chic, and apparently the only place good enough for the GP to stay this time around.
    Darius nodded. “We’ll settle in and be in touch about the ceremony.”
    “As you say,” Ethan said.
    Like a flock of birds, the vampires turned in unison, then filed back through the
     gate to waiting limousines.
    For a moment we all stood there.
    Ethan muttered a curse, but when he turned back to us, he slipped his hands into his
     pockets, his body tight with the swagger and confidence of a Master vampire. He might
     not have been official Master of Cadogan House, but he was a Master vampire all the
     same.
    It was comforting to see him confident, even if he was bluffing.
    “They will think of us what they think of us,” he said. “That doesn’t matter. What
     matters is what we are together, and that is stronger than we could ever be as GP
     automatons and subjects of a would-be king.”
    He looked at Malik. “Assemble the House tonight. We’ll wait until an hour before dawn.”
    “To assure Darius is tucked in at the Dandridge and can’t spy on us?” Luc asked.
    “Precisely,” Ethan said. “I’ll speak to the Decert at the ceremony, so whatever the
     night brings, plan to be back at the House by then.” He nodded at Luc. “Call Paige
     and the librarian. He’s up to something, and I want to know what it is.
Now
.”
    “Liege,” Luc acknowledged.
    “Go on about your business,” Ethan said. “I’ll see you all soon enough.”
    * * *
    I wouldn’t be a vampire if Ethan hadn’t changed me, and I wouldn’t survive without
     regular doses of blood. Even though the process had become a fairly routine endeavor,
     I still needed it. So I dropped by the House cafeteria and plumbed for snacks. A bag
     of blood from our retail supplier, Blood4You, was a necessity, as was a mini chocolate
     candy bar that I stashed in my jacket pocket for later. For now, I grabbed a bagel
     with a smear of peanut butter and took a bite as I nuked the blood and poured it into
     a travel mug, just another Chicagoan on her way to the office.
    There was something about the first bite of food in the morning—maybe the relative
     absence during sleep, maybe the reawakening of the taste buds—that made my simple
     breakfast seem nearly majestic.
    I am only barely exaggerating. The depth of my relationship with food is no doubt
     thrilling to some and strange to others. It probably has something to do with the
     fact that I grew up feeling removed from the rest of my very wealthy, very