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  • Blade Bound(Chicagoland Vampires #13)(45) by Chloe Neill
  • The wedding had been beautiful. The reception had been great fun, at least until chaos had taken her turn with it. Making love for the first time as husband and wife had been sublime.

    And later, after love had been shown and proven and we’d wrestled our own demons, as dawn had begun grappling at the horizon with her rose fingers, we were on the bed in clean pajamas, a room service spread between us, and bottles of Blood4You and Veuve Clicquot on ice nearby.

    “I understand the food at the reception was divine,” Ethan said, stretched on the bed beside me, scooping caviar onto a toast point. “Not that we had time to enjoy it.”

    Not being a fan of fish eggs, I scooped guacamole with a blue corn chip. “No, and I am starving. A wedding and mass mob will do that to a vampire.”

    “So I hear. I noticed Jonah and Margot dancing.”

    I nodded. “I’m trying to hook them up. I think they’d work well together.”

    He glanced up at me. “In my experience, playing matchmaker often backfires.”

    I snorted. “When did you last play matchmaker?”

    “Juliet and Morgan.”

    I stared at him, chip halfway to my mouth, then lowered it again. “You tried to set up Juliet and Morgan.” Morgan was finally coming into his own as Master of Navarre House, but even still, I couldn’t see him with our pixie guard and fearsome fighter.

    “‘Tried’ being the operative word,” Ethan said. “It didn’t take.” His voice was flat.

    “Well, of course not.” I frowned, trying to imagine sly Juliet with the previously passive-aggressive Morgan. “Oil and water.”

    “I don’t see why they should be. They’re both senior staff, in a manner of speaking. They’re both witty and intelligent people, Morgan more so now that he’s stepped out of Celina’s shadow.”

    “Wrong personalities. Wrong chemistry.”

    “There are some who’d say the same thing about us.”

    “And they’d be wrong,” I said with a smile, and bit into the chip. “I help keep your ego in check.”

    “I am a shy and retiring vampire,” he said, with not one bit of sincerity or believability. “And I keep you from running headlong into danger.”

    I gave him a look.

    “Well, I try,” he amended. “And is that to be your official Dry Wife Expression? I’d like to go ahead and commit it to memory.”

    “You’re hilarious, husband.”

    “And you’re beautiful, wife. Headstrong or otherwise.”

    A compliment either way.



    I woke to the smells of chocolate and sugar, but kept my eyes closed, basking in the fantasy that Chicago’s problems had resolved themselves and we’d been whisked away to Paris while we slept. I’d open tall, iron windows to a balcony, a wonderful breeze, and a view of the Eiffel Tower.

    “Bonjour, mon amour,” I said.

    “You’re still in Chicago,” Ethan reminded me. “And the mayor wants to see us.”

    Of course she did. I pulled a pillow over my face. “I can’t hear you. The sun’s still up.”

    “The sun has set. And the mayor has beckoned. And I have breakfast.”

    I tossed away the pillow, sat up.

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire