Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “Who have you fed from?”

            I straighten my face. Even more. “I didn’t say I fed from someone.”

            “No. You asked whether there can be any negative consequences if a live source is fed upon, and I brilliantly deduced it. Because you’ve never exhibited any curiosity on the topic before, and—I’m not a damn idiot. Who?”

            I let out a deep breath. “Who do you think?”

            He face-palms. “Your husband. Your Were husband. Your Alpha Were husband.”

            “Please.”

            “Did you force him?”

            “What? No.”

            His curse is not soft. “Do not tell Father this happened.”

            “Why?”

            “He’d try to exploit it.”

            “How is— In what way is there anything to exploit about this?”

            He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Misery, do you know nothing?”

            “What should I know?”

            “How did you not just pick up stuff growing up?”

            The noise that comes out of my throat has Ludwig checking in on me. “From whom? From my Human caregivers?”

            “Okay.” His hands lift, a silent order for me to stay quiet while he collects himself. I consider hanging up on him and asking Father out of spite. “It’s not normal for him to let you feed. For any Were to let a Vampyre feed.”

            “Maybe Lowe doesn’t know that.”

            “Our species have been enemies for centuries. Do you think they didn’t grow up thinking that being sucked on by a leech is the highest level of defilement? Do you think using his blood to keep alive the people who killed his ancestors is something his pack will be okay with?”

            I remember Emery’s disgusted expression. Her seconds’ gasps. Even Koen had to suppress his initial shock at seeing my marks on Lowe’s neck.

            And Lowe, pulling me to himself after I said I wasn’t okay.

            “Lowe is different.”

            “Clearly. And clearly this is something you should bring to your grave. It’s obvious that there is some . . . friendship here.”

            I think about it for a minute, then nod.

            “So he took a liking to you.” He rubs his forehead. “This is weird. I’m glad you’re alive and maybe going to stay that way, but—”

            “It’s weirder than that. When I fed from him . . .”

            “Misery.” He gives me a blistering look. “I went through puberty in Vampyre territory. I know exactly what happened when you fed from him. Please, do not continue. People who shared a placenta for nine months should not talk about this stuff.”

            Am I flushing? I am. “We’re dizygotic twins, which means that we never shared a placenta or an umbilical cord. A womb at best, really.”

            “Still, do not subject me to a retelling.” Owen tips his head back and looks at the ceiling.

            “Can you just tell me if there will be any negative consequences for Lowe? I want to be sure I didn’t harm him.”

            Owen sighs. “As long as you didn’t take too much, he’ll be fine. And you’ll probably be fine, too? Honestly, there aren’t that many case studies of Vampyres feeding from Weres.”

            “Okay.” Phew. “Thank you for letting me know. Have a good life. I’m hanging up now—”

            “Misery, listen carefully. There is a reason our species decided to transition from live feeding as soon as the technology to safely draw and store blood became available. Drinking from a live source is not just something that’s hard to tease apart from sex. It has hormonal and biological consequences that are trivial in the moment but might build up in the long run. That’s why it’s been discouraged among Vampyres for centuries—we need to fuck as many people as we can and reproduce, not form bonds. Repeat feedings create complex dynamics that . . .” He stops abruptly, shaking his head. His expression has softened, and I wonder if he has done it before. If it’s something he’d want to do with someone else. “Don’t do it again, Misery. Be his friend. Build a chicken coop with him. Fuck him, if you want. But do not feed from Lowe Moreland again.”