Bride

phone. Half of your gallery is blurry pictures of Ana with your finger blocking the camera. You type ‘Google’ in the Google bar to start a new search.”

can start a fucking computer.”

“Lowe. My friend. My spouse. You’re clearly a competent Were with many talents, but I’ve seen your phone. I’ve seen you use your

“Hey.” This is fucking weird. “Just checking: You know you’re naked, right?”

“I was on a run.” The moon will fill tomorrow, and the light gleams off her glossy hair. “Does it bother you?”

Does it? “No. Does it bother you?”

She looks at me like I’m one of those Humans who think premarital sex is a ticket to hell

“The thrall,” Lowe murmurs.

“Yup. That’s it. No deep-frying involved.” I stand and grimace at the spit on my shirt. It’s starting to seep through—gross.

“I thought it was a myth,” Cal whispers. “That our elders used to scare us.”

I can relate, since I grew up fairly sure that if I misbehaved, a Were would crawl up the toilet to eat my ass.

“You know what the punishment for high treason is?” He must, because I do, and I never know shit.

“And whatever is happening between you two, fuck it out of
your system before people find out.” He hangs up, and I instantly turn to Lowe.

“Will we really?” I ask.

His eyes are instantly hooded. His lips move unintelligibly for a few moments. “The things I want to—”

“I mean, will we be meeting him in person?”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “As soon as I can arrange it.”

Alpha.”

Ah. “I wouldn’t want you to be not you.”

Death would be nice, right now. I’d welcome it with open arms.

“You’re not a problem, Misery. You’re a privilege.”

“In fact, I think I might be in love with one.”