Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “No. You’re not.”

            “I get it, feeling pinned down by the mate thing.” I take a hurried step back, suddenly wondering whether this conversation requires physical distance. “It has to be hard, to feel like you couldn’t walk away even if you wanted to. Like someone is going to be your problem forever—”

            He shakes his head, eyes burning into mine. “You’re not a problem, Misery. You’re a privilege.”

            My heart slows to a thud just as Lowe’s picks up, three beats of his for every one of mine. Our bodies, screaming how different we are at the most basic, fundamental level.

            I don’t care, though. He doesn’t, either. “We’ll try, then. Isn’t that what any relationship is, in the end? Meeting someone and wanting to be with that person more than with anyone else, and trying to make it work. And I . . . maybe I don’t have the hardware, but the software is here, and I get to program it. Maybe you’re not meant for me the way I’m meant for you, but I’m going to choose you anyway, over and over and over again. I don’t need a special genetic permit to feel sure that you are my—”

            I don’t get to finish the sentence. Because he’s kissing me ravenously, like he’s never going to stop, and I’m kissing him back in the same way. The intensity, this time, is spiked with relief.

            “You’re here,” he says against my neck, pushing me backward. It’s not a question, and not for me. His strong hands cup the back of my head and won’t let me nod. “You’re staying.” I feel the matter settle inside him, the certainty of us.

            A different part of Lowe takes over, and he pushes me back into the wall.

            “Mate. My mate,” he groans, like he hasn’t allowed himself to think of the word in relation to himself before this moment. When he picks me up and carries me to the bed, the air rushes out of me. “My mate,” he says again, voice deeper than usual, so rough that I tie my arms around his neck and pull him down, hoping it’ll soothe the urgency in him, the frantic trembling in his hands. His breath is staggered in my hair, so I push against his broad shoulders until he flips us around. Then I’m the one setting the pace, with languid, savoring kisses, and that vibrant tension inside him slowly melts.

            I inhale the scent of his blood, heady and potent. “I love this,” I say. “I love you.”

            He sucks in an incredulous breath. Warmth crawls into my stomach, up my backbone. I pull off my shirt, and he follows me eagerly with his hands and his mouth. He nips at my collarbone, sucks at my nipples, nibbles at my breasts. With every touch I feel like we’re slowly being welded together—until he stops.

            His long fingers flex around my hips, impossibly tight, then go limp.

            When he pulls back to look at me, his lips are dark red, eyes stark and clear.

            “We might need to stop.”

            I laugh, already out of breath. “Is this another bout of Alpha Were guilt?”

            “Misery.” He stops. Licks his lips. “I’m really wound up. We’ve been apart, and you smell so damn good, and you said some . . . intoxicating things, like that you’re here to stay, and I’m closer to the edge than—”

            I laugh against the edge of his jaw. “Okay. Before you devolve into more self-loathing, let me just say, I’m going to drink your blood again. Okay, Lowe?”

            He hisses a low “Fuck,” and nods eagerly.

            “And we’re going to have sex.”

            His hips press against mine. Our breaths hitch. “Okay. Okay,” he repeats, suddenly determined. Gathering his self-control. “I can stop. I’m going to stop when—”

            “You’re not going to stop.” I kiss his cheek, tighten my arms around his neck, and then whisper in his ear. “When your . . . knot happens, you’re going to . . .” Tie? Hitch? Bind? I will need a better vocabulary. “Do that inside me.”

            Lowe squeezes me to his chest. “If I hurt you—”

            “Then you’ll hurt me a bit. Like I hurt you when I feed from you, since I’m ripping your skin. And then after a few minutes it gets really good for me, and I think it does for you, too.”