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Writer's pictureAlisha Eadle

Bride by Ali Hazelwood


Bride

by Ali Hazelwood

Published by Berkley


A dangerous alliance between a Vampyre bride and an Alpha Werewolf becomes a love deep enough to sink your teeth into in this new paranormal romance.


Misery Lark, the only daughter of the most powerful Vampyre councilman of the Southwest, is an outcast—again. Her days of living in anonymity among the Humans are over: she has been called upon to uphold a historic peacekeeping alliance between the Vampyres and their mortal enemies, the Weres, and she sees little choice but to surrender herself in the exchange—again...


Weres are ruthless and unpredictable, and their Alpha, Lowe Moreland, is no exception. He rules his pack with absolute authority, but not without justice. And, unlike the Vampyre Council, not without feeling. It’s clear from the way he tracks Misery’s every movement that he doesn’t trust her. If only he knew how right he was….


Because Misery has her own reasons to agree to this marriage of convenience, reasons that have nothing to do with politics or alliances, and everything to do with the only thing she's ever cared about. And she is willing to do whatever it takes to get back what’s hers, even if it means a life alone in Were territory…alone with the wolf.



Genre


Triggers

Copied from Ali Hazelwood's website


  • Several mentions of blood

  • Death of several people within the context of a war between different species (vampires, werewolves, and humans) is mentioned

  • Kidnapping

  • Mild violence

  • Poisoning and attempted murder

  • Attempted kidnapping/harming of a child (she is unharmed)

  • Death of a parent (off page in the past and off page in the present)

  • Explicit and graphic sexual content

  • Knotting (the MMC’s apparatus is not quite human?)

  • Cursing and vulgar language

 

I've heard some ... mixed reviews about Bride.

It led to it sitting on my shelf for months, before my best friend picked it up and insisted I read it.

As with every book she pushes on me, I loved it. I really loved it.

Absolutely not a omegaverse book, despite marketing for it.

It's a supernatural romance with aspects from the omegaverse - ie, mates and knotting - that features vampires, werewolves, humans, etc...

I'm starting to think that - for me - Ali Hazelwood can do no wrong in her writing.

I adore her contemporaries - they are some of my favorites. She was already an auto-buy author for me, so a new genre wasn't going to scare me away.

But I was curious to if she could pull it off as well as she does her contemporaries.

For me, she did. It hit all the marks I look for in this types of books.

A clear enemy - or in this case, enemies.

Which obviously leads into a great enemies to lovers, arranged marriage situation.

Two people who are raised to hate one another, to kill one another on sight, but in an effort to bring peace between their people, are forced to unify and marry. Add in the fact that they are entirely different species - Vampyre and Weres - it just adds a spicy element to all that tension between these two characters.

Which leads me to the romance and spice, which was easily the best part of this book.

The chemistry between Misery and Lowe.

Delicious.

The tension between them was there from the start, and while the ... status ... of their relationship was predictable (I knew from the moment they first encountered one another), I just didn't care. The story from that moment to the end made up for the predictability.


I also adored Misery's interactions with other characters in Bride. Ali Hazelwood has always had a way with words to inject humor into her books, but the combination of Misery's Vampyre side - being introverted to the extreme - with Ali's masterful sarcasm, it's just all around fun.

Seriously.

I don't normally love kids in romance books, but Misery and Ana's conversations never failed to put a smile on my face, or make me laugh out loud.


Hell, I even loved Misery's inner thoughts. It made her oddly relatable, the weird things she wondered about. Made me realize that my own weird thought tangents are normal. Plus, Ali having Misery calling Weres the "original furries" in her inner thoughts had me rolling.

Diabolical.


I loved how Ali really highlighted the differences between each species in this book.

Humans were - well, humans. We are who we are, I guess.

But I loved the differences between the vampyre and werewolves, not just in the physical sense, but in everything.

While vampyres prefer to be secluded, and are raised to be as unfeeling as possible, werewolves are different. Ali did a great job showing just how different the ties between these characters were, and how much those bonds relied on how they treated their family and friends.


Despite being mildly predictable (while I predicted Lowe and Misery's connection - and yes, I am trying to remain spoiler free - I also predicted who was behind the mystery plot of the book), Bride was an absolute delight to read. It was fun, at times emotional, entertaining, and sexy. It was a hit for me, and I'm glad that Ali plans to write more in this world.



 



 

Owen: "When do you think your future husband will try to kill you?"

Owen asks conversationally, looking straight ahead.

Owen: "Tomorrow? Next week?"

Misery: "Who's to say?"

Owen: "Within the month, for sure."

Misery: "For sure."

Owen: "One has to wonder if the Weres will bury your corpse or just, you know. Eat it."

Misery: "One has to."

Owen: "But if you care to live a bit longer, try tossing a stick when he starts mauling you. I hear they love fetch -"


Henry: "He was reminded that the good of our people as a whole comes before the good of one - the basic principle Vampyre society relies on. Birth rates are at our lowest, and we are facing extinction. This is not the time to stoke conflict. And yet, in an unbecoming display of weakness, he continued to beg."

Misery: "Disgusting. How dare he grieve for his son."

Father gives me a scathing look.


Lowe: "For the next year, let's make sure we stay out of each other's way. Understood?"

I try to swallow. Fail the first time, do a great job the second.

Misery: "And they say that romance is dead."


During our fifteen-year friendship, I amassed a million small, big, and midsize reasons to love Serena Paris with the intensity of the brightest stars. Then, a few weeks ago, one came to obliterate all of them, driving me to loathe her with the strength of a thousand full moons.

Her damn fucking cat.


Officer: "Maybe she was out of vacation days and still wanted to, I dunno, drive to Las Vegas to see her aunt. Just a misunderstanding."

Misery: "We had plans to meet, and she's an orphan with no family or friends who doesn't own a car. According to her banking portal, to which she gave me access"

-kind of-

Misery: "no cash withdrawals or online payments were processed. But maybe you're correct, and she's bouncing to Las Vegas on her pogo stick?"


Lowe: "We haven't even been married for twenty-four hours. Praying mantises have longer honeymoon periods."


Juno: "She's lying,"

Juno insists. It's getting a little ridiculous, the way she points at me like I'm a mugger who yanked her purse away.

Juno: "You should punish her."

I snort out a laugh.

Misery: "Yes, Lowe. Spank me and take away my TV privileges."


Lowe: "What I am is worried that my Vampyre wife will get herself killed. I'd have to bury her corpse in the raised bed under the plumbago, and the next batch will sprout ugly."

I gasp theatrically.

Misery: "Not the plumbago."


Misery: "By all means, then, let's embrace tradition. Should we slice my palm and drip some blood on the sheets? Hang them from the public square?"

His eyes close briefly and he grits out,

Lowe: "I doubt there are any expectations of virginity on your part."

Misery: "Fantastic. I love surprising people."


Another shrug, which seems like her default response. Relatable, honestly. She settles on the bed next to me and I'm briefly worried that she might pee on it. Does she have a diaper? Is she housebroken? Should I burp her?


Ana: "My cat is waiting for me, anyway."

Wait.

Misery: "Your cat?"

She nods.

Misery: "Does your cat happen to be gray? Long hair? Smushed face?"

Ana: "Yes. Her name is Sparkles."

Oh, fuck.

Misery: "First of all, he's a boy."

She blinks at me.

Ana: "His name is Sparkles, then."

Misery: "No, his name is Serena's damn fucking cat."

Ana's expression is pitying.

Misery: "And he's actually my cat."

Serena's. Whatever.

Ana: "I don't think so."

Misery: "You do realize that he arrived when I did."

Ana: "But he sleeps with me."

Ah. So that's where he disappears to all the time.

Misery: "That's just because he hates me."

Ana: "Then maybe he's not your cat,"

she says, with the delicate somberness of a therapist who's letting me know that I don't have a diagnosable disorder, I'm just a bitch.


I need tweezers, but I didn't bring any with me. Do Weres use them? As the original furries, do they find them morally repugnant? Maybe they hold body hair sacred, and any threat to its rightful dwelling on the flesh is considered blasphemous.

Food for thought.


Ken Doll Snorts.

Ken Doll: "Were you watching us from the window?"

Misery: "I mean ... yeah?"

Ken Doll: "Creepy. You need a hobby."

Misery: "You're right. I've heard amazing things about paragliding, or competitive duck hearting. Maybe I could - oh, wait. I forgot that I'm literally stuck in a one-hundred-and-thirty-square-foot bedroom twenty-four seven."


Ken Doll: "I think you've done enough, leech."

I roll my eyes.

Misery: "First of all, I grew up among the Humans, and leech, parasite, sanguisuge, bloodsponge, tick, sucker, bat bitch - they're not the groundbreaking insults you think they are."


Mick: "Just promise you won't do it to me, okay? You were scary in there."

Misery: "I would never. You're my most beloved jailer."


Misery: "I was trying to check my email."

I swallow.

Misery: "Get in touch with friends."

Lowe: "You don't have friends, Misery."

I'm not sure why this hurts when it's true.

Lowe: "And I'm very much not an IT person, but that"

-he points at my code, which is still crunching along -

Lowe: "does not look like Yahoo."

Misery: "Yahoo? Lowe, you're really dating yourself here."


Lowe: "You know what makes Alphas good leaders?"

he asks without looking up.

Misery: "No clue."

He huffs out a laugh.

Lowe: "Neither do I. But at times, there are decisions that feel right, deep in the marrow of my bones."

He wets his lips.

Lowe: "You are one of them."


Their voices lower to soft whispers, and I turn to climb the stairs. The last thing I hear is a phlegmy,

Ana: "Okay, but did you cut the crusts off?"

and a deep, hushed response that sounds a lot like,

Lowe: "Of course, love."


Two things can be true at once.

For instance: I like Alex, because he's an intelligent, pleasant young man.

And: spending time together and watching him be terrified of me sparks joy.


Her words make me chuckle. When I notice her scowl, I hasten to add,

Misery: "Sorry - it's not about you. I just remembered that when we were around thirteen, my sister and I used to have this really weird caregiver, and whenever we had a fight he would force us to cut each other's toenails."

Juno: "What?"

Misery: "I think he got it from a TV show. For each nail, we had to say something nice about each other. And the habit kind of stuck, and it became the way we fixed all our fights?"

Juno: "That is ..."

Misery: "Gross?"

Juno might be too polite to agree.

Juno: 'Would you like to do that now?"

Misery: "Oh, no. A handshake is so much better."

I take her offered hand and grip it firmly.


Misery: "Are you saying I'm not as good company as Lowe?"

Ana: "You're not."

I glare, but soften when she asks,

Ana: "When will I be able to shift, too?"

Shit.

Misery: "I don't know."

Ana: "Misha can do it already."

Misery: "I'm sure there are things you can do that Misha can't."

She ponders the matter.

Ana: "I'm really good at braids."

Misery: "There you go."

Pretty trivial skill, but.

Ana: "Can I braid your hair?"

Misery: "Absolutely fucking no."

A couple of hours later, half a dozen braids pull at my scalp, and Ana is snoring softly with her head in my lap.


Lowe: "Is she okay?"

Misery: "Yes. I am the victim here,"

I hiss, pointing at the mess on my head.


Lowe: "Regular internal pack business. Then a meeting with Maddie, the Human govenor-elect. And several Vampyre councilmembers - your father included."

Misery: "Yikes."


Ana is delighted to see me. She runs to me, a blue of sparkly pink cotton and unicorn ears, and wraps her little arms around my waist.

Misery: "We don't always have to hug."

She squeezes harder.

I sigh.

Misery: "Fine. Sure."


I'm proud of the way I cut my meatloaf and move the crackers around the plate to mimic a half-eaten meal. But I'm not very good at using cutlery, and the context - a meal, shared - is as foreign to me as crocodile wrestling. Ana, of course, notices.

Ana: "Why is she acting like that?"

she whispers theatrically from the head of the table, pointing at my ramrod straight spine, the way I lift and lower my fork like an animatronic puppet.

Lowe: "She's just not very good at this. Be kind."


Misery: "We don't commune. We don't meet in large groups, unless it's to set up war strategies. Our social life is all strategizing."

For the next Father's Day, I should get him a mug that says All I care about is machinating and like, three people. Except we don't celebrate Father's Day, either.

Misery: "But if we did have communal blood drinking, we'd feast on promising young computer engineers,"

I add, and then smack my lips as though I'm thinking of a scrumptious meal, just to watch Alex pale.

Mick: "Regarding food,"

Mick warns while Ana spills several gallons of water on the table under the guise of pouring is "cocktails,"

Mick: "Misery, the blood bank messaged us that this week's delivery will be delayed by a couple of days."

Alex: "D-delayed?"

Alex chokes out.

Mick's eyebrow lifts.

Mick: "You seem very invested, Alex. I didn't know you've been partaking?"

Alex: "No, but ... what will she eat?"

Misery: "I guess I'll have to find another source of blood. Hmm, who could it be? Let's see ..."

I drum my fingers against the edge of the table to create suspense. It sure works on Ana, who's looking at me gape-mouthed.

Misery: "Who smells good around -"

Lowe's hand closes around mine. Our wedding bands clink together as he lifts it from the table and sets it on my lap, his grip lingering for a second.

I feel hot.

I shiver.

Lowe clicked his tongue.

Lowe: "Stop playing with your food, wife."

he murmurs, and it feels almost intimate, smiling at him and catching the amused gleam in his eyes while Alex crumples into himself.


Ana: "Let's make up a birthday for you,"

Ana proposes, bright-eyed.

Ana: "And have a biiig party."

Misery: "Yikes."

I scrunch my nose.

Misery: "Let's not."

Ana: "Let's yes! Your birthday is this weekend, and you're going to have a bouncy castle!"

Misery: "I'm not a very bouncy person."

Mick:" And this weekend your brother will be gone, Ana."

Alex's fork clicks against his plate. Something shifts, and the silence in the room is suddenly tense as Lowe chews his meatloaf.

Lowe: "Feel free to have the party without me,"

he says once he's swallowed, with the calm, effortless tone of someone who knows that every word of his is law. Then, with a conspiratorial wink at Ana:

Lowe: "Take pictures of Misery bouncing."


Misery: "Oh, shit."

Ana chortles.

Misery: "You're almost disappointedly easy,"

I tell her, and she chortles harder, then sneaks around Lowe's chair to sit on my legs and steal my goldfish. I don't know what it is about me that says Please make yourself at home on my lap, but I'll have to fix that.


Misery: "Please, don't leave. I'm sure you came here to ... What do you do here, anyway? Scratch your claws? Howl at the moon?"

Lowe: "Deflea myself?"

Misery: "See? I wouldn't want to be in your way. Do go on."

I wait for him to pick critters out of his hair.


Misery: "Well, he's my favorite Were."

I hug my knees.

Misery: "He's always so nice to me."

Lowe: "That's because he has a weakness for beautiful women."


Serena: "I am out there, trying. I had a fucked up life, too, but I'm dating, trying to get a better job, having interests - you're just waiting for time to pass. You are a husk. And I need you to care about one single fucking thing, Misery, one thing that's not me."


Lowe: "Maybe there is something devastating about the incompleteness of it. But maybe, just knowing that the other person is there ..."

His throat bobs.

Lowe: "There might be pleasure in that, too. The satisfaction of knowing that something beautiful exists."

His lips open and close a few times, as though he can only find the right words by shaping them first to himself.

Lowe: "Maybe some things transcend reciprocity. Maybe not everything is about having."


Misery: "You're right, Lowe. I don't have the hardware to understand what a mate is, and I can't imagine meeting someone and feeling the sense of kinship you're talking about. But ..."

I close my eyes and think back fifteen years. A caregiver knocked on my door and introduced me to a dark-haired girl with dimples and black eyes. The breath I draw is stymied.

Misery: "I was able to install the software. Because Serena gave it to me. And maybe I disappointed her at times, maybe she was angry at me, but that means nothing in the big picture. I understand that you're willing to face Emery on your own, or to sacrifice everything for your pack. I understand because I feel the same about Serena. And for reasons I cannot fully articulate, because feelings are fucking hard for me, I'd like to come with your. To help you find whoever is trying to hurt Ana. And I think that Serena would be proud of me, because I've finally managed to care about something. Even just a little bit."

He studies me in the moonlit air for far too long.

Lowe: "That was a badass speech, Misery."

Misery: "Badass is my middle name."

Lowe: "You're middle name is Lyn."

Shit.

Misery: "Stop reading my file."

Lowe: "Never."


Misery: "I don't need to speed-read Architecture for Dummies and pretend I can tell Gothic and art deco apart?"

He turns to me, stone-faced.

Lowe: "You're joking."

Misery: "Please look ahead."

Lowe: "You can, right? You are able to tell apart -"

Misery: "Husband, darling, deep inside you know the answer to thar, and please look at the road when you're landing a plane."


An "I'm Sorry" stumbles out of my mouth.

Lowe: "Sorry?"

The word vibrate through my skin.

Misery: "Because."

My knees are buckling, so I lock them. I still feel like I might lose my bearings, so I blindly reach up. Find Lowe's shoulder. Grasp it for dear life.

Misery: "I know you don't like my scent."

Lowe: "I fucking love your scent."


Misery: "Is it better?"

His lips press together. As though there is a flavor he wants to hold in his mouth a moment longer.

Lowe: "Better?"

Misery: "My smell. Do I smell like ...?"

Lowe: "Mine."

It's a rumple in his throat.

Lowe: "You smell like you're mine, Misery."


She's not like he imagined. He won't admit to picturing how she'd be whole he was growing up, but there was always something in the back of his head, a faint hope that maybe, one day.

She's not like he imagined. She's more, in every possible way.


Lowe: "Thank you for not causing a diplomatic incident."

Misery: "As if."

His eyebrows quirk.

Misery: "Come on. I wouldn't."

The look he gives me telegraphs: You absolutely would.

Misery: "I'm not going to piss off the lady who tried to kidnap Ana."

I say, outraged.

Misery: "I might stab her. But I'm not going to sass her."

His mouth twitches.

Lowe: "There you are."


Misery: "Does she know? That's she's your mate, I mean."

A micropause, and then he shakes his head. As though reaffirming a decision.

Lowe: "She doesn't. And she won't."

Misery: "Why won't you tell her?"

Lowe: "I won't burden her with the knowledge."

Misery: "Burden? She'd be into that! You're basically swearing eternal love to her - and you're kind of a catch. I used to vet all of Serena's dating app matches; I've seen what's out there. The pool is shallow."


Lowe: "You think that the reason I won't tell her is that a small part of her wouldn't be enough? You think that I would care if she were to love me less than I love her? That this is a matter of pride for me? Of greed? Is that why you think I'm childish?"

I open my mouth. A wave of heat - embarrassment, confusion, something else - slams over my body.

Misery: "I ..."

Lowe: "You think, but you don't know. You don't know anything about what it's like to find your other half,"

he continues, voice low and sharp.

Lowe: "I would talk anything she chose to give me - the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I'll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body - I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me."

My heart pounds in my chest, my cheeks, my fingertips. I've forgotten how to breathe.

Lowe: "But I won't take from her."

Her eyes leave mine and steadily trail down my face. They stop at the neckline of my dress. Tonight I'm wearing out wedding band as a necklace, and he studies the way it disappears into the curve of my breasts. His gaze lingers, leisurely, for what feels like hours but is probably a brief moment. Then it moves back up.

Lowe: "Above all, I won't take her freedom. Not when so many others have already done so."


Lowe: "She wouldn't admit it - she might not even realize it herself, but she's the kind of person who would feel beholden to me. She would think I need her. When what I really need is for her to be happy, whether it's with me, or alone, or with someone else."


Lowe: "I could fuck you very nicely right now,"

he says into my ear. He sounds honest, and a bit resigned.

Lowe: "I almost did."

Misery: "I sorry. I never imagined it would lead to ..."

Lowe: "I know. I'm just really ..."

His lips move against my forehead, soft and warm.

Lowe: "I've never felt like this."

Misery: "Like what?"

Lowe: "Turned on. Smitten. And .... and other things."


Koen: "And to think that you're the most sensible Were I've ever met. Look how finding her made you,"

he says cryptically. He gives Lowe a fond glance, and then his expression shifts.

Koen: "I got a phone call. Cal tried to reach you with something important but wasn't able to. It's urgent."

Lowe: "I left my phone back in my room."

Koen's eyebrow lifts.

Koen: "Yeah. Not sure it would have made a difference if it had been in your pocket."


Misery: "Who do you think I am?"

For her pleasure, I produce a deep frown.

Misery: "Your personal ice pack?"

Her giggle squeezes my chest.

Misery: "How do you feel?"

Ana: "Like I'm about to puke on you."

Misery: "Could you please puke on Sparkles first?"

She gives it a long thought before formally declaring,

Ana: "As you wish."


Lowe joins us a few minutes later. He presses his lips to Ana's temple and gives her what he announces to be the first of her California presents - a large pink giraffe that I cannot figure out where or when he acquired.

Ana: "Were there giraffes in California?"

Lowe: "Not in the wild, love."

She purses her lips.

Ana: "I'd like a more authentic present next time."

Lowe: "Noted."


I walk up behind him, curious about what has him so engrossed that he didn't hear me coming.

Misery: "Playing smuggled Human games, and GTA no less, at your boss's desk. The sheer gall of today's workforce."

Alex: "Shit a brick!"

He almost falls off his chair.

Alex: "Where are you - You're so all of a sudden. I had garlic for lunch and my blood is probably poisonous to you!"

I give him my best disappointed pout.

Misery: "I missed you, too."


Owen: "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.

Misery: "We're dizygotic twins, which means that we never shared a placenta or an umbilical cord. A womb at best, really."

Owen: "Still, do not subject me to a retelling."


The irritation of being told what to do by my useless brother sticks with me the entire night. I'm still miffed hours later, when I wander into the kitchen after reading a story to Ana, about an annoying llama who's being deservedly bullied by a goat.


Misery: "God, you're just so fluffy. And ... sorry, but you're kinda cute. I know you could murder me in less time than it takes to stick a straw in a blood bag. But you're soft. And your coat isn't even sparkly pink. I don't know what you were embarrassed about, you majestic fluffball - yes, fine, I'm going."

He all but drags me to the closet, and doesn't stop bossing me around until I'm lying down in my favorite spot. I wonder how he managed to find it. Might be a scent thing.

Misery: "FYI, you Alpha tendencies are even worse in this form."

His tongue darts out and licks my neck.

Misery: "Ew, gross,"

I giggle.


Lowe: "I think,"

he says, winded, hoarse,

Lowe: "I'm going to lock you in this closet forever."

I nuzzle closer.

Misery: "I'd think I'd love that."


Owen: "Stop eye fucking each other in front of me - this is incest. Bestiality at the very least. "


Misery: "What did I - Oh."

This is weird.

Misery: "You know that I didn't ingest that poison voluntarily to protect her, right? I just happen to be disgracefully into peanuts."

Lowe: "You would have, though,"

he mumbles against my hair.

Misery: "What?"

Lowe: "Protected her."


Lowe: "If all the good things."

He grasps my hips as I roll them into his.

Lowe: "Of all the good things I've felt in my fucking life, you are the best."


Owen: "Let's go, Gabi,"

Owen calls, spinning on his heels.

Owen: "I'm boring my sister with trivial details about who's fucking whomst among our people."


Serena: "Why, hello. How lovely of my oldest and most treasured friend to join me in my humble abode."

Misery: "I'm your only friend,"

I cough out, wondering if my brain is making shit up. Vampyres do no dream, but they do hallucinate.

Serena: "Correct. And rude."


Serena: "Did you just initiate physical touch? What is happening? Did you start therapy while I was gone?"


Misery: "You look good."

Her eyebrow lifts.

Serena: "That's a weird thing to say in the let's-exchange-vital-info stage of a joint abduction."

Misery: "It was a damn compliment!"

Serena: "fine. Thanks. I was always very self-conscious of my forehead, as you know, but maybe unnecessarily? Maybe I'll spare myself the whole monthly trim -"

Misery: "Okay, now shut up. Where are we?"


Misery: "What do you even do all the time?"

Serena: "I've been catching up on sleep. Reviewing my life choices. Stewing in regret. Mostly, I read."

She gestures at the shelves.

Serena: "But the selection here is limited to the classics. I've read, like, three Dickens novels."

Misery: "Appalling."

Serena: "The Catcher in the Rye, too."

Misery: "God."


Serena: "I really would love to get out of here. Spend more time with Sylvester."

Misery: "Sylvester?"

Serena: "My cat."

Misery: "Ah."

I glance away guiltily.

Misery: "About that."

Serena: "I swear to God, if you tell me that you let my cat starve or choke to death on my yarn or get eaten by a raccoon -"

Misery: "I did not, even though he'd deserve it. However, his name is now Sparkles. And he's grown very attached to Liliana Moreland, or vice versa."

I ignore her withering look.

Misery: "There is nothing but cats in the world, and Sparkles is mediocre among them, so I'll get you another one if we ever -"


Serena: "If they murder me, avenge me,"

Serena whispers.

It's nice, all this faith she seems to have in me.

Misery: "Any preferences on how?"

Serena: "Be creative."


Misery: "What you said earlier, about working with the Weres and the Humans. You meant it, right? You weren't just fucking with Father?"

Owen: "Of course."

He scowls, indignant.

Owen: "Lowe and I are basically best friends."

Lowe's puzzled frown doesn't quite broadcast best friendship.


Owen: "I am not an agony aunt."

I tilt my head.

Misery: "You look like it, though."

Owen: "Get the fuck out of my office."


Misery: "Text me when you're done chasing moles, or smelling each other's buttholes, or whatever,"

I yell after them.


Misery: "I could force you to tell me the truth."

The flat of my thumb presses between his brows.

Misery: "I could thrall you."

His smile looks sad.

Lowe: "You already have, Misery."


Lowe: "My feelings. My wishes. My desires ... They're mine, Misery. Not yours to deal with."

I try to twist in his grip, furious.

Misery: "Of course they are. What that hell does that even mean -"

Lowe: "It means I don't want you to make decisions 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.

Lowe: "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."

Misery: "Lowe -"

Lowe: "But I can survive without you, Misery. All I need to do is ..."

He exhales a warm, soundless laugh.

Lowe: "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."


Misery: "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 shakes, and I fist them against his chest.

Misery: "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 not."


Lowe: "You're not a problem, Misery. You're a privilege."


Misery: "Since I'm your mate, and since I don't really plan to, you know, let go of you ... you'll never get to do this with a Were,"

I say without opening my eyes.

Misery: "You'll never get the hardware experience."

His soapy palms later my skin, lingering too long on my breasts.

Lowe: "Any idea of doing any of this with a Were died the night I met you."

I hear the dimissal in his words. What he adds is a murmur, more for himself than for me.

Lowe: "There wouldn't be anyone else, anyway. Even if you didn't want me, I couldn't."


 
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