Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “It’s a name I made up for the guards. They’re all Bob.” And then, louder. “Misery’s not feeling well,” she yells. Which is true—I feel like total shit. “I think the drugs might be about to kill her or something!”

            What the hell? I mouth. I cannot deal with a Serena plan right now.

            “Well, that’s above my pay grade. I can’t do anything for a leech, anyway—”

            “She is Vampyre royalty. Whoever your boss is, do you think they’ll be pleased with you if she dies under your watch?”

            There are a couple of muttered curses I can barely make out. Then the slot opens. “What’s going on?”

            I look at Serena, stumped. All she does is gesture vaguely at me, probably trying to telepathically transmit her plan. I scrunch my face into a raisin, hoping to cringe myself out of this world. When that doesn’t work, I reluctantly make my way to the door.

            The opening is at head height, but because of the way the attic is built, Bob’s view of the inside is limited. “There is something wrong. With my . . . eye,” I tell him once we’re face-to-face. He’s a Were, and looks younger than I expected. Too young to be doing this shit, just like Max.

            Fuck you, Emery, and fuck you, Mick.

            He mutters something about leeches whining and asks, “What’s wrong?”

            “This.” I sniffle and make an assortment of dramatic noises. On my right, hidden from Bob’s eyes, Serena gives me the thumbs-up. The most useless enabler in the world. “You see?”

            “I can’t see anything.” He leans forward a little, but he’s smart enough not to tilt his head into the door. Pity, as I’d have loved to punch him. Then again, that would leave me satisfied, but still locked in here. “It’s just a regular purple eye. What am I supposed to notice?”

            “It must be a reaction to the drugs. You have to tell a physician,” I say. Maybe too flatly, because Serena is miming something that can only mean Up the histrionics. “I could die.”

            “Die of what?”

            “Of this, you see?” I point under my right eye, and he focuses on it, trying to find some abomination within. When my intraocular muscles start twitching to initiate the thrall, I put everything I can into the movement, hoping to get a quick hook.

            For a moment, it does work. I anchor myself just below the surface, Bob’s confusion obvious in his slack mouth and empty eyes. I have him, I think. I have him, I have him, I have him.

            Then he frowns and pulls back, and I realize that I failed.

            Abysmally.

            “Did you . . .” He blinks at me, twice, and the realization dawns on him. “Did you just try to thrall me? You fucking leech!”

            He is furious—so furious, he thrusts his hand through the opening and comes for my throat. And that’s when Serena reminds me of something.

            How fucking badass she’s always been.

            Moving faster than I thought possible for a Human, she snatches Bob’s wrist, bending it at an unnatural angle. Bob yelps and immediately tries to pull back, but my half-assed thrall must have affected him somehow, because despite his Were strength, he seems too weak to escape Serena’s grip.

            “Open the door,” Serena orders.

            “Fuck no.”

            She bends the wrist farther. Bob squeals.

            “Open the door or I’ll do this—” She snaps his thumb. I hear it pop out of its socket, and it’s disgusting. “—to all your fingers.”

            It takes two more, but Bob unlocks the door. Despite his Were strength, it’s clear that he’s not a trained fighter, and it takes us little effort to switch places with him. We’re both winded and a little bruised, but once he’s bolted inside, I turn to Serena to make sure that she’s okay, and find her slapping her hand to her mouth and jumping in place.

            Maybe she’s badass, but she’s also incredibly dorky. My heart skips a beat at how relieved—how fucking relieved and happy I am. She is here. She is fine. She is being unashamedly herself, even after I spent so long without her.