Bride

He holds my eyes and murmurs, “Let’s go, then.” We step out of the dining room just as Koen calls John a fuckwaffle.

She makes him want to draw again

Be good,” he says, getting up.

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

My brother studies my bare shoulders, the wet-T-shirt-contest condition Lowe’s chest appears to be in, the flush on both our cheeks, and says, “You two really are fucking, huh.”

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—

I open my mouth to ask him if Father has died and made him councilman, then close it when Lowe enters the screen. “Her safety is my priority,” he tells Owen in a stately manner

His heartbeat smells like he’d die for this

You sweated through your sheets multiple times.”

A feat, since Vampyres barely have sweat glands. “Did Dr. Averill change them?”

“I did.”

“Oh.”

“Juno helped. Sometimes. When I was able to let her. Once I calmed down.” He wipes his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me.”

“What is?”

“To see you like that. To let anyone else touch you when you’re hurt or sick or just . . . I didn’t need that qualifier, actually. To let anyone else touch you is . . .” He rubs the back of his hand against his mouth. I can’t quite follow—and then I can, when he says, “I’m not sure who I can trust anymore.”

“Ah.”

I could fuck you very nicely right now,” he says into my ear. He sounds honest, and a bit resigned. “I almost did.”

“I’m sorry. I never imagined it would lead to . . .”

“I know. I’m just really . . .” His lips move against my forehead, soft and warm. “I’ve never felt like this.”

“Like what?”

“Turned on. Smitten. And . . . and other things.”

It’s killed into
silence the moment Lowe winds his fingers into the thick hair at my nape and orders: “Take more.”

Misery,” Lowe orders, or maybe it’s a plea, or maybe my name is just a word he likes to say, a word he likes to think of