Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            He shakes his head. I’m flooded with relief. “Okay. She’s Were. Then why—” I stop.

            Because Lowe shakes his head again.

            I know what Vampyres smell like, what their needs and limitations are. And Ana is not one of us. Which leaves one single other possibility.

            “No,” I say.

            Lowe says nothing. His knife clinks against the side of the plate, and he crosses his arms on his chest. His expression remains anchored in a way that makes me utterly unhinged.

            “It’s not possible. They . . . No. Not both.” Why is he silent? Why is he not correcting me? “Genetically, it’s not . . . Is it?”

            “Apparently.”

            “How?” There are so many levels of impossibility here. That a Human and a Were would even want to engage in what’s necessary to produce a child. That it would work, physically. That it would have consequences. Weres may not struggle as much as Vampyres, but their reproductive rates are still lower than Humans’.

            I shoot to my feet in a spurt of nervous, incredulous energy. Immediately sit down again when my abused soles protest. “But she’s related to you, isn’t she? The eyes . . .”

            “My mother’s eyes.” He nods. “She was one of Roscoe’s seconds. Overseeing the woods between Were and Human territories. Officially, under Roscoe’s rule there were no diplomatic relationships. In practice, very limited agreements with Humans were constantly being negotiated, especially in high-conflict areas. I believe that’s how she first met Ana’s father, but I wasn’t around at the time.” He sounds regretful, and I remember the pretty house drawings. The only locked space in his room.

            “He’s not your father, is he?”

            “My father was a Were, and he died when I was a child.”

            I’m not going to ask if my people were involved in that, because I’m sure I know the answer. “Why are you telling me this?”

            He is silent for a while, eyes downcast. It’s not until I follow his gaze that I realize he’s staring at our wedding band on his ring finger. “You know what makes Alphas good leaders?” he asks without looking up.

            “No clue.”

            He huffs out a laugh. “Neither do I. But at times, there are decisions that feel right, deep in the marrow of my bones.” He wets his lips. “You are one of them.”

            Blood rushes to my cheeks, hot. There’s no way Lowe misses it, which is mortifying. I’m just grateful that he chooses to continue without mentioning it.

            “I was living in Europe when my mother was injured, but immediately flew back. When it became obvious that she might not make a recovery, she told me about Ana’s biological father.”

            “Her Human biological father.” Inconceivable.

            “I thought she was delirious because of the drugs. Or just mistaken.”

            I tilt my head. “What changed?”

            “There are things about Ana. Things that had me taking what my mother said as more than some morphine-induced delusion.”

            “Like what?”

            “For one, Ana doesn’t shift.”

            “Oh. Should she, already?”

            “A Were child would. In fact, during the full moon, they’d have trouble not shifting. Her blood is a deep red instead of green. At the same time, she has Were traits. She’s more agile, stronger than a Human. Her vitals are all over the place. After my mother passed, and very discreetly, I had her DNA tested. Juno is a geneticist, and she was able to help.” He picks up the knife again, slathers more jelly. The peanut butter jar is still there. Open. “At the time, Roscoe was the Alpha; it was easy to predict what he’d do if he found out that he had a half Human in his pack.”

            “Roscoe was not a fan, huh?”

            He gives me an understatement-of-the-decade look.

            “And, she was the sister of the dude who smelled like he was gonna steal his job,” I murmur without thinking. I notice Lowe’s surprise. “What? I know things.”