Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            I stare at her, momentarily speechless. Maybe the larder beetles have eaten her brain? “Dude. I didn’t know that was an option.”

            She lets out a small laugh, a little shakier than her usual. “I just had a lot of time in here to think about what I said.”

            I nod. Poke my tongue around my very dry, very sour mouth. “I had lots of time out there, too.”

            We regard each other. If we were better people, less screwed up, we’d probably be able to say something like I love you, or So glad to be together again, or a slightly more macabre Thank fuck you’re not dead. But we both stay silent, because that’s what we do.

            We both know the unsaid, because that’s who we are.

            Serena clears her throat first. “Shall we consider the matter archived for the moment?” she asks. “We can clip each other’s nails when we’re out of here, or something.”

            “Excellent suggestion. Let’s focus on what to do.”

            She takes a fortifying breath. “I’ve actually been working on a plan.”

            “Let’s hear it.”

            “It involves staying here. Building a life. Growing old. Developing cataracts.”

            I smile. “You always had the worst fucking plans.”

            She laughs. And I laugh. And then we laugh some more, until the whole thing sounds less like laughter and more like slight hysteria, and God, I missed this.

            “Another plan,” she says, wiping her eyes and lowering her voice, “that I’ve hatched in the past three minutes, is to lure the guard at the door, and use your Vampy magic to thrall them into letting us go.”

            I scowl. “You know I can’t do that without touching people.”

            “Misery. Babe.”

            “What?”

            “I doubt there’s another way.”

            “We could fight. There’s two of us, and we know self-defense—”

            “They won’t come inside. Everything is handed to me through that opening.” She points at the square panel in the door. “But now that you’re here, we might be able to trick them. I could distract the guard long enough for you to get a hook in him.”

            I shake my head. Fully aware that I’m not saying no. “This could go so badly.”

            “They wouldn’t take it out on you,” she points out. “You’re the daughter of a Vampyre councilman and I guess the wife of a Were Alpha?” She pinches her nose. “Unlike me, you’re a valuable hostage to use in negotiations, and this Emery person must know that. If anything, they’d take it out on me, which is—”

            “Also unacceptable.”

            She bites the inside of her cheek. “I really would love to get out of here. Spend more time with Sylvester.”

            “Sylvester?”

            “My cat.”

            “Ah.” I glance away guiltily. “About that.”

            “I swear to God, if you tell me that you let my cat starve or choke to death on my yarn or get eaten by a raccoon—”

            “I did not, even though he’d deserve it. However, his name is now Sparkles. And he’s grown very attached to Liliana Moreland, or vice versa.” I ignore her withering look. “There’s nothing but cats in the world, and Sparkles is mediocre among them, so I’ll get you another one if we ever—”

            A knock at the door, and we both startle.

            “Yeah?” Serena calls. She pushes me out of sight, even when the door and the food slot stay closed.

            “I have a . . . bag of blood. For the Vampyre.”

            “Who’s that?” I whisper.

            “Bob.”

            I tilt my head. “Who the hell is Bob?”