Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            I think of flipping through pages.

            The pretty buildings in the drawer.

            My face.

            “He hasn’t had anything for himself, Misery. Not one thing. And I’ve never heard him complain about it, not once. Not that he had to leave, not that he had to take control of the largest pack in North America, not that he had to do it all alone. His life has been duty.” She scans my face curiously, like I could right this injustice. I don’t know what to say.

            “I promise I’m not trying to make his life more difficult. And I feel so shitty about the mate thing.”

            Juno’s eyes widen. “He told you about that?”

            “No. I’m not supposed to know, but a friend of my father’s mentioned at the wedding that she was who I swapped with. I know his mate is the Were Collateral. Gabrielle.”

            “Gabrielle?” Juno’s look shifts from confused, to blank, to understanding. “Yes. Gabi. His mate.”

            “I’m not trying to interfere with Lowe’s happiness. Our marriage is not real, and he’s free to . . . find his happiness wherever he can.” I bite into my lower lip. Honesty for honesty. “There is a reason I agreed to this, and I’ve come clean to him about it.”

            Her dark eyes linger on me, inquisitive. And after a long time, she says, “It might be cruel of me. But I think that, deep down, I always hoped that Lowe would never find his mate.”

            I’m still not wholly certain what that means. “Why?”

            “Because being an Alpha means always putting your pack first.” I’m about to ask why the two things are incompatible, but she stands. I try not to stare at her nipples as she offers her hand. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. And I’d love for you to accept my peace offering.”

            Her words make me chuckle. When I notice her scowl, I hasten to add, “Sorry—it’s not about you. I just remembered that when we were around thirteen, my sister and I used to have this really weird caregiver, and whenever we had a fight he would force us to cut each other’s toenails.”

            “What?”

            “I think he got it from a TV show. For each nail, we had to say something nice about each other. And the habit kind of stuck, and it became the way we fixed all our fights?”

            “That is . . .”

            “Gross?”

            Juno might be too polite to agree. “Would you like to do that now?”

            “Oh, no. A handshake is so much better.” I take her offered hand and grip it firmly.

            “I don’t know if you and I can ever be friends,” she says. “But I can be better.”

            I smile at her, closemouthed and fangless. “Hell, I can only be better.”



* * *





            Turns out, I was wrong about the full moon.

            It’s further ahead than I thought, three whole nights, and the day before, Mick orders me not to leave my room—ideally—or the house, under any circumstances. He still looks out for me, but I haven’t had a guard camped outside my door since my conversation with Lowe.

            “How come?” I ask curiously. “I mean, I’ll do as you say. But what’s so different about the full moon?”

            “It takes a really powerful Were to shift when the moon is small—and a really powerful Were to not shift when it’s big. All Weres will be in their most dangerous form, including many youths who have little self-control. Better not test them with unusual scents.” I laugh at his old-man-yells-at-a-cloud eye roll, but later that night the persistent howling that seems to be all over the lakeshore gets to me. When my door opens without warning, I’m much jumpier than usual.

            “Ana.” I exhale and set aside my book. It’s about a nosy elderly Were lady who solves murder mysteries in the Northeast pack. I absolutely loathe her, but somehow I’m already at number seven in the series. “Why aren’t you wolfing with . . .” Oh.

            Right.

            Because she can’t do that.