Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

CHAPTER 5




                             She is resilient. He tries to imagine how he’d feel if he were in her position—alone, removed, used, and discarded. He has nothing but reluctant respect for her, and that angers him.





Unlike Max’s grip, Lowe’s doesn’t hurt.

            It’s tight, though. And the way he presses me against the wall, like he’s trying to put his big body between me and the rest of the world, makes it difficult to breathe in without plastering my entire front to his.

            “Miss Lark,” he says. Hoarse. A growl, nearly.

            I swallow against the sudden drought in my throat, which makes me realize where his hand is: wrapped around my neck. Almost entirely. His fingers are so long, they touch the valleys behind my ears.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, low and deep. Those offbeat eyes of his bore into mine. My heartbeat, which remained miraculously steady during my scuffle with Max, suddenly pounds louder—then whisks into slow flutters when Lowe lowers his head to murmur against my temple, “We haven’t even been married for twenty-four hours. Praying mantises have longer honeymoon periods.”

            Max, I could take, fairly easily. Lowe, no way. It’s the difference between a puppy and a dire wolf.

            “Just, you know.” My words sound wobbly. I’m not proud of that. “Trying to avoid getting killed.”

            Lowe stiffens for a millisecond, then pushes away. But he sticks close, palms flat against the wall on each side of my head—one still bandaged from yesterday’s wound. It feels like a cage. A makeshift prison that he’s building, made of his body and his glare, to keep me pinned in place as he turns around to ask Max, “You okay?”

            Max looks up and nods, lips trembling. By now there are several Weres gathered around him. Alex, who glances between Lowe and me with an expression so guilty he’d probably admit to mortgage fraud if pressed ever so slightly. But also Juno, thoroughly inspecting Max for any mortal wounds I might have inflicted, and the older man and the ginger from the ceremony, who stare at me as though I just told the orphanage kids that Santa isn’t real.

            Everyone in this hallway looks very ready to shatter my kneecaps, maybe eat the marrow after. Which, nope.

            “Excuse me.” I try to dip out of Lowe’s cage to leave. He lowers one arm, locking me in more tightly.

            “What happened?” he asks me.

            Juno beats me to the answer. “She was about to drink him dry. We all saw it.” She runs a hand over Max’s clammy forehead. He looks briefly adrift, and then stammers out,

            “Sh-she was on me. Before I could do anything about it. And . . .” He bends his head, as if lost for words.

            Every pair of eyes in the room turns to me. “Oh, come on,” I snort.

            “Her fangs were so close,” he whispers feebly, and now I’m getting annoyed. Clearly method acting is his passion, but he did try to assault me.

            “Yeah, okay.” I roll my eyes. “Please, leave me out of your erotomaniacal delusions—”

            “Have a doctor check Max,” Lowe barks, and then his hand closes around my wrist, at once gentle and unyielding. It happens so fast, I nearly lose my balance. Before I know it, I’m scrambling to keep up with his longer legs as he drags me inside his office.

            I immediately look around. I am worried about what he’s going to do with me, but this is a great opportunity. He didn’t use a key, which means that he must have some kind of smart lock—

            “What happened?” Lowe asks. He let go of me, but still stands way too close, when there’s plenty of space in the room to not crowd me. It’s giving me flashbacks to our wedding, and this time I’m not even wearing heels, which means that he gets to loom over me in a way almost no one ever does.

            The door opens suddenly. Juno enters, but Lowe’s eyes stay on me.

            “Misery,” he growls, “how about you fucking answer me, for once?”

            “Max came over, saw me, decided to indulge in some light afternoon murder.” I shrug. “That, I’m used to. It’s the subsequent lying that—”