Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            I can relate, since I grew up fairly sure that if I misbehaved, a Were would crawl up the toilet to eat my ass. “It’s not. I’m not really good at this, actually.” It seems best not to disclose what someone like Father could do.

            “You look plenty good to me,” Cal says. He actually sounds admiring, while Ken is glaring suspiciously, and Mick frowns, and Gemma shakes her head, and some other Weres exchange looks, and Juno seems, as ever, worried and angry, and Lowe . . .

            I’ve given up on understanding Lowe.

            “How do we know you’re not planting lies in his head?” Ken asks.

            I shrug. “Ask him something I wouldn’t know.”

            “What happened when you asked Mary Lakes out for a date?” Juno says.

            “She said no,” Max drones.

            “Why?”

            “Because I had a huge blob of snot coming out of my nose.”

            It’s funny, but no one laughs. The group seems to have gotten over the initial incredulity, and Cal starts grilling Max. “Did Roscoe’s mate send you to take Ana?”

            “I believe so, even though I did not talk to Emery directly.”

            Cal shakes his head. “Of fucking course.”

            “Stop.” Lowe interrupts, and the room falls silent again. He turns to me. My breath catches as his arm reaches inside the hoodie he put on me. His palm briefly fits on my waist, then moves north to brush against my breast, and oh my God, what—

            He slides his phone out of the inside pocket and pulls back.

            My cheeks are on fire.

            “Take her to her room, then come back,” he orders Mick. To Juno: “Check on Ana, please.”

            I’m escorted out. I must really be at my most busybody, because I’m tempted to ask if I can stay. Figure out what this strange war within the Weres could be about. Instead I meekly follow Mick up the stairs.

            “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble,” I tell him, “but I saw Max take Ana, and I know you guys don’t believe me, but he’d attacked me, so—”

            “No one doubted you,” he says kindly.

            I look at him. “Lowe sure did.”

            “Lowe knew Max had attacked you first. He is very good at smelling lies.”

            “Oh. As in . . . literally smelling?”

            Mick nods but doesn’t elaborate. “He knew Max was up to something, knew it had to do with Ana, and wanted to get as much information as he could out of him. It’s a tightrope to walk, for Lowe. He won’t go about interrogating every person he doesn’t like, or he’ll be the same as Roscoe was toward the end. But the Loyals have been hurting their own, and they must be stopped.”

            “He sure seemed ready to let the others torture Max.”

            “That was a show, meant to scare Max. And it would have worked, we could all smell it. But you did make it easier with your . . .” He smiles and gestures at my eyes. “Just promise you won’t do it to me, okay? You were scary in there.”

            “I would never. You’re my most beloved jailer.” I smile, close-lipped and fangless. “Besides, I’m the one who should be scared.”

            “Why?”

            I point to the scar on his neck. The row of teeth marking his collarbone. “You’re the one rolling in here with that, like your favorite pastime is getting into fights.” I cock my head. “Is that how you turned into a Were?”

            His eyebrow quirks. “We’re a legitimate species, not an infectious disease.”

            “Just making sure that if someone bites me I won’t turn into you.”

            “If you bit someone, would it turn them into a Vampyre?”

            I think about it for a moment. “Touché.”

            He laughs softly and shakes his head, suddenly wistful. “This is my mate’s bite.”