Bride

He feels like the entire world is in the palm of his hand. She seems happy, too. And mystified by her own happiness, as though the feeling is something new and foreign. It has him wondering whether he could make this work. She’s not Were, and her lack of familiarity could be a blessing. She wouldn’t need to know the full truth, which in turn would ensure her freedom.

Lowe leans back against the trunk of his car in what seems to be the official position of performative harmlessness—crossed ankles, relaxed shoulders, his best I-may-be-one-powerful-Were-but-I-have-no-intention-of-brawling-with-you air.

I settle next to him as Owen and Gabi make their way to us, trying to ignore my heart pounding in my chest. I nearly startle when Lowe laces his hand with mine.

“You’re trembling,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know why.” Except that I do. “I’m cold, I think.”

He pulls me closer—the best he can do, since I’m already wearing his sweater. I’m immediately enveloped in that toasty warmth his body always welcomes me with, and the scent of his heartbeat is delicious in my nostrils. Lowe peers at me like he knows something’s off.

I brace myself for . . . I don’t know. Seeing Lowe reunited with his mate is something that requires preparation from me. I’ve sunk way too deep into this thing between us.

“I asked you to fuck it out.” Owen’s voice is flat and annoyed, but no more than usual. “And yet, here you are. Subjecting me to this.”

“Owen,” Lowe warns. His eyes linger on me for another instant, concerned, then flicker to my brother’s. “A pleasure.”

“Learn from Gabrielle and me,” Owen continues. “We live together at the Nest, but haven’t developed unnecessary feelings for each other or any kind of sexual attraction. We cultivate a relationship of mild collaboration at best, severe indifference on average.”

“Gabi.” Lowe’s nod is warm, cordial, surprisingly neutral.

She’s a beautiful woman, with glossy dark hair and the patient expression that people forced to deal with Owen for any length of time tend to acquire. She briefly dips her head, like all of Lowe’s seconds do when they see him. “Nice to see you, Alpha. Everything okay at home?” There’s affection and respect in the words. I read nothing else.

“For the most part.”

“Good to hear.” She gives me a curious look. Her eyes briefly dart down, and I don’t have to follow them to know they’re on Lowe’s and my joined hands.

A thought strikes me like a bolt—he might be using me to make her jealous. I let it poison my brain for a moment, then dismiss it. Lowe would never stoop to those kinds of plays.

“How lovely,” Owen says drily. “In significantly less wholesome news, no luck on the security footage outside Serena’s place yet. We were hoping to get a good view from the apartment complex in front of hers, but the cameras were tampered with.”

Lowe frowns. “Only for the date of the break-in?”

“Correct.”

I frown. “How?”

Owen shrugs. “What do you mean?”

“How did the tampering occur? Was it software? Hardware? Did they paintball the lens or trip the circuit breaker or cut the data cable?”

“I’m not certain. My guy did mention, but . . .” Owen waves his hand. “Technical witchcraft that nobody could understand aside, it’s clear that—”

“Jammers,” Gabi says, and smiles when I give her a surprised look.

“They disrupted the signal?”

“Likely used a radio frequency detector to figure out the broadcast.”

It’s the sophisticated way. The one someone with resources would use. Someone who works for powerful people and is looking for clues on the whereabouts of a journalist on the run. It would fit with Lowe’s theory, for sure. “Crafty,” I say.

“Right?” She grins. Owen and Lowe exchange a commiserating look. “I know this has nothing to do with me,” Gabi continues, “but Owen is the only person who’ll talk to me at the Nest. He told me about your friend, and I’m sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, the uncertainty.”

Her words are disorienting, because no one else has said them to me before. In my quest to find Serena, people have helped me, mocked me, dismissed me, nudged me, but no one has stopped to tell me they were sorry. A thick feeling rises to my throat. “Thank you.”

Owen makes a gagging sound. “How touching. Moving on to more entertaining topics and the reason for this meeting.” His lilac eyes settle into mine. “I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”

I must have misheard. “What?”

“I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”

Nope, I heard correctly. “Did Father . . . die?”

Owen tilts his head. “Do you think I would neglect to inform you if Father died? Actually, I could see myself doing that. No, Father is alive. But I am in disagreement with many of his decisions of late. Many. I think I could do better, and I decided to make a bid for his seat. I’d love your support.”

“My support?” I push away from the car and disentangle from Lowe, facing my brother. My cuckoo-bananas brother. “Making a bid? That’s not a thing people do.”

He shrugs. “It’s a thing I’m doing.”

“How?”

“I’m happy to share my plan in detail. In two weeks, at the annual meeting, I plan to—”

“Do not share.” I look between Lowe and Gabi, who seem engrossed in our exchange. “You know what the punishment for high treason is?” He must, because I do, and I never know shit. But I do remember what happened when I was seven and Councilwoman Selamio’s brother tried to steal her birthright from her, or when Councilman Khatri died suddenly, without naming which one of his two sons would inherit the position.

Slaughter, that’s what happened. Lots of purple spatter. Father would never react to having his seat usurped with anything but bloodshed. And by his lazy, hedonistic son? “He’s not just a member, Owen. He’s the leader of the council.”

“Unofficial.”

“Bullshit.”

“And anyway,” he continues like he didn’t hear me, “his prominent position could be in my favor. Lots of councilmembers are dissatisfied with the way he’s been seizing power.”

Wild. Buck wild. “Who knows about this?”

“I have been slowly spinning a web of allies. Establishing tactical collaborations.”

He’s dead. My only sibling left is as good as dead. “Why?”

“It seemed prudent.”

I pinch my nose, because—fuck. Fuck. “Do you even want to be a councilman?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not? Could be fun.”

“Owen. Just . . .” I bury my face in my hands and Lowe stands from the hood of the car, coming to massage my shoulders in this moment of desperate need. I suppose he’s trying to be comforting, but I feel his amusement in my bones.

Maybe I could punch him and Owen. Just a little bit. Wouldn’t that make me feel better?

Yes. Yes, it would.

“Misery. My sister.” He shifts to the Tongue. “You are displaying more feelings than usual. Are you not well?”

I straighten and take a deep breath. Even though Owen and I were born three minutes apart, clearly I’m the adult. “Listen, I’m really trying to find that bitch Serena, and I’ve grown really fond of Lowe’s annoying little shit of a sister. Unfortunately, they’re both really good at getting themselves in trouble. So if you could avoid making my life even harder because of some half-assed plan you put together two hours ago out of spit and shoelaces—”

“Three months ago.”

“—it would be really . . . What?”

Owen’s eyes harden. “Three months ago, Misery. I’ve been working on this plan since I discovered that my father was considering sending my sister into enemy territory. Again.” He bares his fangs, and his tone is uncharacteristically earnest. “I could do nothing when we were children. I could do nothing when you returned, because I was too much of a coward to take a stand. I cannot do anything now, but I am determined to try.” His gaze fixes mine for a long moment, and he picks up in English again. “I want to be the one negotiating the next set of alliances. I want all Collateral systems gone. I want to stop enforcing artificial border lines, or holding on to disputed territories out of spite. I want to turn this place into something that’s not a powder keg.”

I study him, astonished. Realizing that in all the years we spent apart, as I grew and changed and built my own life, my idiot brother did, too, and turned into . . .

Not an idiot, clearly.

“Father is going to kill you,” I repeat. This time not with the intent of dissuading him.

“Maybe.” He turns to a spot high above my shoulder. Lowe. “Any advice on how to successfully carry out a coup, Alpha?”

“I was going to recommend a hearty breakfast, but . . .”

“How unfortunate.”

Lowe’s hand slides to my waist, pulling me into his larger body. “I’m no fan of your father. And as the Weres and the Vampyres form alliances, I would love to see someone whose priorities align with mine.” My brother and my husband look at me, then at each other. Something I cannot decipher passes between them. An agreement. A shared port of call.

Owen spends the next minutes updating me on the complex network of his supporters, allies, and coconspirators. He assures me that no one knows about his plan, and surprisingly, I find that I believe him. He may seem ostentatiously careless, but he’s been nothing but careful and circumspect about this. Still, he quickly shifts to inane gossip I’m not interested in, and I find myself tuning him out when I overhear Lowe asking Gabi, “. . . anything you need?”

“Not really. There have been no signs of danger so far. Owen is surprisingly decent company and gave me access to his gaming consoles. Everyone else has been treating me coldly and leaving me alone, which is fantastic—they’re real pros at this Collateral exchange thing. They’ve had to deal with Human children for decades, and I’m much lower maintenance than that. They’re monitoring my internet usage, of course, but I have plenty of time to work on my master’s. I’m taking five classes this semester.”

“Finance, was it?”

“Electrical engineering. I should be done at the end of the year.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. And you? You seem happy with your . . .” I think Gabi is pointing at me, but I cannot turn to verify. Just like I cannot be sure that Lowe nods and smiles faintly, even though it nearly resonates through me, the fact that he is. Happy. With me.

“Let’s go, Gabi,” Owen calls, spinning on his heels. “I’m boring my sister with trivial details about who’s fucking whomst among our people.”

I roll my eyes, then brace myself again. Lowe and Gabi didn’t greet each other warmly, but now it’s sure to happen: a hug, a tender moment, a wistful goodbye. She may not know that she’s his mate, but he feels for her.

I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world.

He’ll take what he can now, and even though I told myself I’d be able to deal with this when it happened, the jealous heartache is too much. I cannot watch. I wave goodbye at Owen and Gabi and step around Lowe’s car.

But I’m just a couple of feet away when I hear, “Let me know if the situation changes,” followed by a short, “Yes, Alpha.” There are two sets of steps: Gabi walking after Owen, Lowe heading for the driver’s seat, and nothing else.

Nothing more than a friendly wave.

When I glance at Lowe, he’s not looking back in her direction. Not tracking her with his eyes. Not rubbing his jaw with his palm like he does when he is worried, or nervous, or pensive. His mate is heading back to enemy territory, and he might never see her again, and he is . . .

Smiling, actually.

I sit in the passenger seat, staring at my knees, thinking about what Lowe told me. A mate grabs you by the stomach, he said, and he was so sure of it, I felt it in my stomach, too. He made it sound like a thought that won’t quit, a spectacle impossible to tear one’s eyes from. But with Gabi . . .

Maybe I cannot read him. But he doesn’t seem to gravitate toward her. He was by my side for the whole conversation. He couldn’t remember what she studied.

I look up from my lap. Lowe is staring at me with a tender, amused expression. The keys are in the ignition, but he hasn’t turned them. He’s motionless, like he forgot what he was about to do.

“What?” I ask, a little defensive.

“Nothing.” His smile is soft. Like a boy who got caught. “You okay?” He clearly has no idea what I’m thinking.

I nod, keeping my eyes on the darkness outside as he starts the car. My cheeks are hot. I’m on the verge of something.

It’s possible that I understand next to nothing about Weres. About love. About Lowe and Gabi. It’s possible that I’m an idiot who reads too much into too little. But I feel something deep in my belly, and I know it to be right.

Lowe may have a mate, but she’s not Gabi.