Bride(78)

It’s not a question. I turn to look at Lowe, who turns to look at me. And we both get a little lost in the exchange.

Not yet, I think.

I wish we were, he seems to say.

Maybe we could—

“Stop eye-fucking each other in front of me—this is incest. Bestiality, at the very least. Misery.” Owen switches to the Tongue, “There is something I need to tell you. About your friend—”

“In English,” I interrupt.

He gives me an incredulous look, eyes darting between me and Lowe.

“He’s helping me search for Serena,” I explain.

“He’s helping you.”

“Yup.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Your friend’s apartment was broken into three days ago.”

“What?” I shift forward. “By whom?”

“Not sure, because whoever did it also messed with the cameras in the apartment complex. But I’m having some friends look into alternative sources.”

“Like what?”

“Footage from security cameras in the surrounding buildings.”

“Did they take anything?” Lowe asks.

“Very difficult to tell, considering the state they left the place in.”

I massage my temple, wondering for a millionth time what Serena got herself involved in.

“And there’s more,” Owen adds. “Something important. But I can’t talk about it on the phone, so we’ll need to meet in person.”

I glance at Lowe. “Could we arrange it?”

“Yes. Give me a few hours.”

“Very well.” He nods at Lowe, then switches back to the Tongue. “I am glad you’re still with me.” His eyes meet mine, and I almost believe he means it. When I notice the brackets on each side of his mouth, it occurs to me that there’s an air about my usually carefree, glib brother that mirrors Lowe’s: Tired. Worried. Heavy.

“I’m glad to still be with you,” I reply. It might be the most vulnerable we’ve been with each other. Marriage is making a sap out of me.

“And whatever is happening between you two, fuck it out of your system before people find out.” He hangs up, and I instantly turn to Lowe.

“Will we really?” I ask.

His eyes are instantly hooded. His lips move unintelligibly for a few moments. “The things I want to—”

“I mean, will we be meeting him in person?”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “As soon as I can arrange it.”

I nod gratefully. “Thank you. Um, the other thing, too, I would—”

His phone rings again. He picks up with a curt “Lowe,” peeling his eyes from mine with great effort.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll take care of it.”

He slips the phone in his pocket and then lingers here, on the floor of my closet, more than is necessary. “I have to go—pack business. And I should get changed first. But I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, I guess.” I’m not sure what to say. All that happened in the past hour is slowly solidifying. Becoming concrete and awkward between us.

I think he wants to stay.

I think I want him to stay.

“Be good,” he says, getting up.

And then immediately crouches down again, just to kiss my forehead.

CHAPTER 22

She makes him want to draw again.

Imust have fallen asleep again, because when I open my eyes it’s a little before midnight. Dragging a T-shirt and leggings on is a feat worthy of a thousand armies, and I barely manage. I haven’t fed in a week, and my body must be well enough to demand sustenance, because my stomach cramps painfully.

I stagger downstairs, trying to recall if I’ve ever gone without blood this long before. The closest was when I first moved back to Human territory, before Serena found me an under-the-table seller I could afford. By the time I got my hands on a small bag it had been three days, and I felt as though my internal organs were feasting on themselves.

Maybe it’s because my body is shutting down, but I stumble into the kitchen without noticing Lowe and Alex. I stop like a deer in the headlights, wondering why they’re huddled in front of a computer. It’s a bit late for a meeting.

“Is Ana okay?” I ask, and they both look up at me in surprise.

“Ana’s fine.”

I relax. Then tense again. “Did Owen find that footage?”

Lowe shakes his head.

“You both look really serious, so— Wait, Alex, what are you—”

Alex has stood from his chair and is currently hugging me.

This is a nightmare. Maybe Vampyres do dream, after all.

“Thank you,” he says. “For what you did for Ana.”

“What did I— Oh.” This is weird. “You know that I didn’t ingest that poison voluntarily to protect her, right? I just happen to be disgracefully into peanuts.”

“You would have, though,” he mumbles against my hair.

“What?”

“Protected her.”

I gently push him away, too hungry to argue over whether I’m a good person. I might like him better when he’s terrified of me. “Listen, I’m going to feed before I’m tempted to bite one of Ana’s stuffies or—” I gasp. “Fuck.”