Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            The only reply is a deep, long, panties-shitting growl.

            “Would it make things better or worse if I growled back?”

            “Wouldn’t change it either way,” a voice says from the entrance.

            Lowe. Leaning against the frame, relaxed like a loungewear model during a photoshoot.

            “Thank you, Cal,” he says, coming my way. “That will be all.”

            And magically, with one last half-hearted snarl in my direction, the wolf shakes its beautiful gray fur and trots away. It stops by Lowe and butts its head against his thigh.

            “Cal? As in . . .” He turns to me and I stare at his face, looking for similarities. I’d have expected consistency between Weres’ shifted and human forms, but Cal’s a redhead. I crane my neck to get a better look at the wolf, but Lowe steps in front of me, blocking my view.

            “What the fuck are you doing, wife?” He sounds like a volatile mix of tired and irritated. Any thought of Were phenotypes instantly departs.

            I just got caught. Doing something very bad. And I’m in real danger.

            “Just looking for . . .” What? “Sticky notes.”

            “Do Vampyres keep sticky notes inside their computers?”

            Fuck. “I was trying to check my email.” I swallow. “Get in touch with friends.”

            “You don’t have friends, Misery.”

            I’m not sure why this hurts when it’s true.

            “And I’m very much not an IT person, but that”—he points at my code, which is still crunching along—“does not look like Yahoo.”

            “Yahoo? Lowe, you’re really dating yourself here.”

            “Come in,” he orders, and I cannot comprehend how I didn’t notice Alex idling by the door. Too busy contemplating my imminent demise, probably. “Can you figure out what she was doing?”

            “On it.”

            I scrunch my eyes shut, running possible scenarios in my head. I could knee Lowe in the groin and try to run away, but I don’t know if the crotch area is as sensitive to them as it is to us, and anyway . . . there are wolves prowling around. “You set me up,” I say. It comes out whiny, which is exactly how I feel. “You asked Mick to leave right in front of me because you knew I’d take advantage of it.”

            “Misery.” He clucks his tongue, chiding, and moves closer, like he knows I’m considering darting away. His heartbeat envelops me, steady, determined. “You set yourself up, because you’re bad at this.”

            “At what?”

            “Snooping around.”

            “I wasn’t—”

            “Why did you go to my room? Why did you look through my closet and my drawers?” He leans forward. His voice drops to a half whisper, meant only for my ears. There’s something tortured to it, like he’s in physical pain. “Why did my bed smell like you slept in it?”

            It hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d leave my scent behind. That Lowe would find my smell stuck to every surface of his room.

            Fuck.

            “Sorry,” I breathe out.

            “You should be,” he says to the air between our lips. I wonder if my heart has ever beaten this loud before. This close to the surface of my skin.

            “She—very astutely, I must say, and with only very primitive tools at her disposal—hacked into our servers,” Alex announces. A little admiringly, which is flattering.

            “Are you the one who built the Weres’ firewall?” I ask.

            “Yup. I’m the leader of our security team.” He sounds distracted as he combs through my code. Whatever fear he had when we were alone doesn’t hold if his Alpha’s present.

            “Nice job.” Weird, how I’m having a conversation with Alex but staring up into Lowe’s eyes. About an inch from mine. “It’s pretty impenetrable.”