Bride(10)

Father looks at me so pointedly, I know. I just know.

And I burst into laughter.

I only ever laughed out loud with Serena, which means that it must have been well over a month since I last did it. My brain nearly hiccups, startled at these newfangled, mysterious sounds my voice box is producing. “Did you drink rotten blood? Because you’re unhinged.”

“What I am is charged with ensuring the good of the most, and the good of the most is the furthering of our people.” He seems somewhat offended by my reaction, but I cannot help the laughter bubbling in my throat. “It would be a job, Misery. Compensated.”

This is— God, this is funny. And mental. “No amount of legal tender would convince me to— Is it ten billion dollars?”

“No.”

“Well, no lower amount of legal tender would convince me to marry a Were.”

“Financially, you will be set for life. You know the council’s pockets are deep. And there is no expectation of a real marriage. You’d be with him in name only. You’ll be in Were territory for a single year, which will send the message that Vampyres can be safe with Weres—”

“Vampyres cannot.” I shoot to my feet and begin pacing away from him, massaging my temple. “Why are you asking me? I cannot be your first choice.”

“You aren’t,” he says flatly. He has plenty of faults, but lack of honesty was never among them. “Nor our second. The council is in agreement that we must act, and several members have offered their relatives. Originally, Councilman Essen’s daughter agreed. But she had a change of heart—”

“Oh, God.” I stop pacing. “You’re treating this as a Collateral exchange.”

“Of course. And so are the Weres. The Alpha will send a Were to us. Someone important to him. She will be with us for as long as you are with him. Ensuring your reciprocal safety.”

Bonkers. This is absolutely bonkers.

I take a grounding breath. “Well, I . . .” Think everyone involved has lost their mind, and whoever shows up to that wedding is going to get slaughtered, and I cannot believe your sheer presumption in asking this of me. “。 . . am honored that you eventually thought of me, but no. Thanks.”

“Misery.”

I walk to the desk to pick up my phone—one minute, thirteen seconds left—and for a brief moment, I’m so close to Father, I feel the rhythm of his blood in my bones. Slow, steady, painfully familiar.

Heartbeats are like fingerprints, one of a kind, distinctive, the easiest way to tell people apart. Father’s was pressed into my flesh on the day I was born, when he was the first person to hold me, the first person to care for me, the first person to know me.

And then he washed his hands of me.

“No,” I say. To him. To myself.

“Roscoe’s death is an opportunity.”

“Roscoe’s death was murder,” I point out evenly. “By the hand of the man you’d have me marry.”

“You know how many Vampyre children were born this year in the Southwest?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fewer than three hundred. If the Weres and the Humans join forces to take our land from us, they will wipe us out. Completely. The good of the most—”

“—is a cause I’ve already donated to, and no one is showing me much gratitude.” I meet his eyes squarely. Slide my phone into my pocket with determination. “I’ve done enough. I have a life and I’m going back to it.”

“Do you?”

I stop halfway through turning around. “Excuse me?”

“Do you have a life, Misery?” He looks at me when he says it, pointed, careful, like he’s pushing a sharp weapon a mere millimeter into my neck.

I need you to care about one single fucking thing, Misery, one thing that’s not me.

I push the memory away and swallow. “Good luck finding someone else.”

“You feel unwelcome among your people. This could rehabilitate you in their eyes.”

A frisson of anger runs through my spine. “I think I’ll hold off on that, Father. At least until they have rehabilitated themselves in mine.” I take a few steps backward, cheerfully waving my hand. “I’m leaving.”

“My ten minutes aren’t up yet.”

My phone chooses that very moment to beep. “Exquisite timing.” I flash him a smile. If my blunt fangs bother him, that’s his problem. “I can safely say that no amount of time will change the outcome of this conversation.”

“Misery.” A pleading edge is creeping into his tone, which is almost entertaining.

Too bad. So sad. “See you in . . . seven years? Or when you decide that the key to peace is a joint Were-Vampyre MLM scheme and try to sell me dietary supplements. Do have Vania fetch me at home, though. I do not look forward to reorganizing my résumé.” I turn around to find the doorknob.

“There won’t be another opportunity in seven years, Misery.”

I roll my eyes and open the door. “Goodbye, Father.”

“Moreland is the first Alpha who—”

I slam the door shut, without first walking out of the office, and turn around, back toward Father. My heart slows to a crawl and thuds in my chest. “What did you just say?”