Bride(109)

“Back?”

“We were dealing with Emery.”

My eyes widen. “Yikes?”

He lets out a soft chuckle and leans a shoulder against the door. “Indeed.”

“We kinda suspected the wrong Were, didn’t we?”

“When it came to Ana. We finally have enough evidence to hold Emery accountable for the activities of the Loyals, including an explosion at a school that happened three months ago. I went to inform her that there will be a tribunal. But when it comes to my sister . . .” His expression darkens. “It’s not her fault if I chose to believe Mick.”

“Did you find his son?”

“Yes. They’re together, heavily guarded. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do.” He presses his lips together.

“I’m really sorry, Lowe,” I say heavily. “I know how much you trusted him.”

“Any other Were, I’d have realized that they were lying to me. But Mick . . . his scent had changed drastically. It was sour and bitter and overpowering, but I figured it was grief. That losing one’s mate and son would do that to someone.”

I take a step closer, wanting to comfort him, not quite sure how. Eventually I just repeat an utterly inadequate “I’m sorry.” I try to continue, to unspool that ball of words that weighs on my stomach so densely, but the sound dies on my lips. I’m stunted, incapable of being coherent.

“It’s not like you,” he says with a slim smile.

“What isn’t?”

“Not saying exactly what you think.”

“Right. Yeah.” A gust of irritation sweeps over me. I bounce my foot to stave it off. “It was easier, being honest with you, when I thought you were being honest with me.”

He frowns. “You can speak honestly with me, Misery. Always.”

I let out an impatient breath, then march to him, ready to attack. I only stop when I’m so close, he has to bend his neck to look me in the eye. “Why would I, though? So you can use my deepest wounds and what you know about my past to hurt me when you decide that you should push me away?”

He looks crestfallen at the memory of the things he told me, as though they hurt him as much as me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You lied,” I accuse. “You said all of that—and it was all a lie.”

He doesn’t deny it, which makes me angrier. Instead he inhales, deep and slow until his lungs are full.

“Why?” I prod. When no answers come, I lift my hand to his face. “I could force you to tell me the truth.” The flat of my thumb presses between his brows. “I could thrall you.”

His smile looks sad. “You already have, Misery.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Then open them to ask, “Am I your mate?”

“I meant what I said,” he says calmly. “You should not use Were words you cannot comprehend.”

“Right.” I spin on my heels angrily and stalk away. Fuck this. If he didn’t want me to use Were words, then he shouldn’t have given them to me.

“Misery.” Lowe’s hand closes against my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. When I try to wriggle out, his arm wraps around my waist to haul me back into him.

His heat is scorching. The scratch of his cheek against the crook of my neck, deliciously coarse.

I hear him breathe in again, this time without restraint. “My feelings. My wishes. My desires . . . They’re mine, Misery. Not yours to deal with.”

I try to twist in his grip, furious. “Of course they are. What the hell does that even mean—”

“It means that I don’t want you to make decisions based on my needs. I don’t want you to be with me because you have to, because you’re worried that otherwise I’ll be miserable.” I wish I could see his eyes. His voice is at once thick and rough and low, as if someone stuffed as much emotion in it as possible and then tried to erase it. “At the wedding, when you were near me for the first time, I was angry. I was furious that for some joke of fate I had found my mate, and they were someone I could never really love. I wanted you more than anything else, and yet I felt trapped by you. And then I began spending time with you. I began knowing you, and you made me happy. You made me better. You made me want to be every part of myself, even the ones I thought I’d left behind. And one day I woke up and realized that if you didn’t smell like the best thing in the world, I still wouldn’t want you any less.”

“Lowe—”

“But I can survive without you, Misery. All I need to do is . . .” He exhales a warm, soundless laugh. “Be without you. All I need to do is bear it. And it won’t be good. But I think it would still be better than watching you become unhappy. Than letting my love for you bind you to me when you would rather—”

“What about my love for you?” I turn around in his arms, and this time he lets me. “Can that bind me to you? Do I have your permission to reciprocate what you feel?”

His lips part.

“No. No. You don’t get to be surprised about what I feel for you. Not when I’ve been nothing but honest about it, and you know what?” My hands are starting to shake, and I fist them against his chest. “No. If I want to be in love with my stupid Were husband, I’m going to be in love with my stupid Were husband, whether he wants to admit that he loves me back or not. And there’s more—I’m going to be living here, so you can unpack those boxes right now. I’m going to be in Ana’s life, because she likes me and I somehow like her, okay? And I’m going to stick around Were territory, because my best friend is one of you, and for once in my life people have actually been pretty fucking nice to me, and I like living on a lake, and I wouldn’t mind being the bloodsucking weirdo of this pack, and—” I could sputter my way through more threats, but he interrupts me.