Page 28 of Bride

“My scent.”

He swallows visibly. His tone is sharp. “The situation hasn’t improved for me.”

“But how—”

“What were you going to ask, Misery?”

Oh. Right. “I have a cat.”

He scowls like I told him I keep pet centipedes. “Youhave a cat.”

“Yup.” I stop at that, because Lowe hasn’t earned the right toany explanation for my life choices. Not that anything about Serena’s damn fucking cat was a choice. “He’s currently locked in my room, if your sister didn’t let him out with her pilfered key. Can I let him roam around the house, or will Max try to frame him for racketeering?”

“Your cat is welcome among us,” Lowe says. If that’s not a jab, nothing else is.

“Wonder how that feels,” I say breezily, and slip out of the room without glancing at him again.

CHAPTER 6

Being gone is a relief. And sheer agony.

All in all, it’s not the most auspicious of starts.

In the week following my arrival, I spend an unhealthy amount of time mentally slapping myself over the way I handled the kerfuffle with Max. I don’t care whether the Weres think I’m a deranged monster, but I do mind that whatever crumb of freedom they might have been inclined to give me has been swiftly vacuumed up.

I’m escortedeverywhere: as I take a stroll by the lake; to grab a blood bag from the fridge; when I sit in the garden at dusk, just to experience something that’s not my en suite. I am but a cornucopia of regret. Because we’re all bad bitches—till a scowling Were stands outside the bathroom door while we’re washing our hair.

Till we lose our chance to snoop around.

So much time on my hands, and so little to spend it on. It’s the Collateral life I’m familiar with, just with significantly fewer Serenas to keep me busy. I should be bored to death, but the truth is, this is not too different from my routine in the Human world. Ihave no friends, no hobbies, and no real purpose aside from earning enough money to pay rent in order to... exist, I guess.

It’s like you’re—I don’t know, suspended. Untethered from everything around you. I just need to see you gotowardsomething, Misery.

There might be something stunted about me. After the Collateral term was over, Serena and I were free to venture into the outside world, to be with people who weren’t our tutors or our caregivers, to fall in love and make friends. Serena jumped right into that, but I could never bring myself to. Partly because the closer I’d let someone get to me, the harder it’d be to hide who I was. Or maybe spending the first eighteen years of my life becoming acquainted with the cruelty of all species didn’t quite set me up for a bright future.

Who knows.

So I sleep during the day, and spend my nights napping. I take long baths, first for Lowe’s sake, then because I grow to truly enjoy them. I watch old Human movies. I walk around my room, marveling at how pretty it is, wondering who the hell thought of this beamed ceiling, sophisticated and cozy and stunning at once.

I do miss the internet. There is a concern that I might want to moonlight as a spy, and to prevent me from transferring classified and confidential information I could come across while in Were territory, I don’t really have access to technology—with the exception of my weekly check-in call with Vania, which is heavily monitored and lasts just long enough for her to sneer at me as she ascertains that I’m still alive. Of course, this is not my first rodeo, and I did try to smuggle in a cell phone, plus a laptop and a bunch of pen testing gadgets.

Your honor, I got caught. Whoever went through my stuff had the gall to confiscate half of it—and to pluck out all the antenna points and Wi-Fi cards from the rest. When I realized it, Ilay on the floor for two hours, like a thwarted jellyfish beached in the sun.

Lowe is rarely around, and never within sight, although sometimes I’ll feel his low voice vibrate through the walls. Firm orders. Long hushed conversations. Once, memorably, right as I slid into my closet for my midday rest, a deep laugh followed by Ana’s delighted screams. I drifted asleep moments later, second-guessing what I heard.

On the fifth evening, someone knocks on my door.

“Hi, Misery.” It’s Mick—the older Were who was talking with Lowe at the ceremony. I like him a lot. Mostly because, unlike my other guards, he doesn’t seem to want me to go stand outside and get struck by lightning. I love to think that we bonded when he took his first night shift: I noticed him slumping against the wall, pushed my rolling chair into the hallway, and bam—instantly BFFs. Our three-minute conversation about water pressure was the apogee of my week.

“What’s up, friendly neighborhood warden?”

“The politically correct name is ‘protective detail.’ ” There is something off about his heartbeat—something dull, a slight drag that’s almost despondent. I wonder if it’s related to the big scar on his throat, but I might be imagining it altogether, because he smiles at me in a way that turns his eyes into a web of crow’s feet. Why can’t everyone be this nice? “And there’s a video call for you, from your brother. Come with me.”

Any hope I have that Mick will take me to Lowe’s office and leave me alone to snoop around dies when we head for the sunroom.

“Ready to come back?” Owen says before “Hi.”

“I don’t think that’s an option, if we want to avoid...”

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