Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            He nods, still clutching his chest. “Yes. I’m getting great signal. Emery can’t book a chiropractor appointment without us knowing.”

            “Lovely. Anything yet?”

            He shakes his head. His nostrils twitch. “You smell different. That’s why I didn’t notice you coming in.”

            Uh-oh. “Maybe my vampyric stench is growing on you?”

            “No. No, you smell like—”

            “By the way, Lowe asked us to work on a project,” I interrupt. It’s a lie. But I don’t think Lowe will mind.

            “What?”

            It’s something that just occurred to me because of what Ana said. Misha gets to have two parents and I get none. When trying to figure out who told Serena about Ana, we assumed that it couldn’t be her father, because he never believed Maria when she said she was pregnant. But what if that’s not the whole story? “He wants us to get a list of Humans who were part of the Human-Were Bureau, say, ten to five years ago?” It is safer than saying eight. Alex is not stupid. “Lowe is looking for people who would have interacted with Weres in our”—Our?—“in his pack.”

            He blinks curiously. “Why?”

            “I don’t know. Something came up when we were at Emery’s and he said he’d need to know.” Maybe I’m a better actor than I gave myself credit for.

            “Any person who worked for the Bureau? No other criteria?”

            I run a hand through my hair, thinking. “Men. Just men.”

            “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

            “Do you have time to start now?” I smile as fanglessly as I can. “Or are you too busy playing pretend street gangster?”

            He flushes a cute shade of green, clears his throat, and we spend the next hour finding very little because of the disorganized mess of the Human archives. We give up when Alex starts yawning.

            “Oh my God,” he says after I stand to leave.

            “What?”

            His eyes are moon-wide. “I got it.”

            “Got what?”

            “What you smell like.”

            Fuck. “Good night, Alex.”

            “Why do you smell like my Alpha marked you?” is the last thing I hear as I head back to Ana’s room.

            Mick and Cal have left, but Lowe and Juno are standing outside of his room, talking in hushed tones. They fall silent when I arrive, and turn to me with heavy eyes.

            I freeze. “Shit. Is she okay?”

            Juno’s response only lags about a second, but my stomach’s weight doubles. “Her fever broke, and she’s been able to keep liquids down. She said your ‘gross stuff,’ direct quote, made her feel much better.”

            I smile. “Really?”

            “Yup.” She gives her Alpha an appraising look. Her eyes bounce between the two of us, and then she adds, “You guys make a surprisingly good team.”

            “It was mostly me.” I dust off the dress I put on for dinner and am somehow still wearing.

            Juno’s mouth twitches. “Just take the compliment.”

            “Fine,” I concede, watching her wave at Lowe and leave. This friendship, or lack of enmity, appears to be highly rewarding to my dopaminergic system.

            I expect to find Lowe smiling. Instead he’s staring at me with a grave, almost haunted expression.

            “Is Ana asleep?”

            He nods.

            “Do you want to sleep in my bed?” His throat bobs before it occurs to me to clarify. “I sleep in the closet, anyway. And you could keep the door open, in case Ana wakes up, and . . . I’m not coming on to you while your sister is still sick because of what happened between us earlier,” I finish, considerably less strongly than I began.