Page 36 of Bride

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Did you forget?” Ken Doll comes to stand next to Lowe. Max recoils. “We have ways of making you remember.”

“He’s barely more than a child, though,” Cal points out.

“Hechoseto work with the Loyals,” Ken says, cracking his knuckles.

Cal, to my shock, shrugs. “I suppose you’re right.” He, too, cracks his knuckles.

I search Lowe’s face for a sign that he’s not going to let his minions... I don’t know, waterboard a boy. His expression is detached, happy to delegate. Not what I’d expect from someone who’s planning on deescalating this.

“Wait!” I yell. Today must be aparticularlynosy day for me. “Don’t hurt him. I can help you.”

All heads whip around to me, with varying degrees of annoyance. “I think you’ve done enough, leech,” Ken says.

I roll my eyes. “First of all, I grew up among the Humans, and leech, parasite, sanguisuge, bloodsponge, tick, sucker, bat bitch—they’renotthe groundbreaking insults you think they are.” Vampyresdodrink blood to survive, and we’re not shy about it. “I can find out who sent Max. Without nail pulling or whatever you’re planning.”

“I dunno,” Cal says. “He deserves some harm.”

But Max is shaking like a leaf. And I must not be the sadist I fancied myself. “Please,” I plead to Lowe, tuning out the rest of the room. “I can help.”

“How?” He, for one, seems more curious than irritated.

“It’s easier done than said. Here.” I stand and brush past him to go to Max. He stops me with his fingers on my wrist. When I crane my neck up to him, startled, he’s looking straight ahead. “Why?” he asks, without meeting my eyes. His voice is low, meant only for me.

I’m not quite sure what he wants to know, so I go for what feels right. “Ana has been visiting,” I say, matching his tone. “She keepsme company, and even though she’s terrible at pronouncing my name and clearly doesn’t know whether she’s six or seven...” I swallow. “I’d rather she doesn’t get, you know. Kidnapped and trafficked.”

He finally looks down at me. Scans my face for several long moments, and whatever his inspection is about, I must pass muster. He nods and lets go of me. I don’t move.

“Actually, could you help me? I’m notsupergood at this.” His brows furrow, and I hasten to add, “But goodenough.”

I think? I’ve only done this with Serena, who insisted I foster my single useful Vampyre trait and practice on her. She’d have me put her under and use our shared cell phone to film videos of her making out with a cabbage; reciting the Pledge of Allegiance with a German accent; confessing to an entire series of dirty dreams with Mr. Lumiere, our French tutor, as the recurring guest star.

Hopefully, I remember how to.

I kneel in front of Max, ignoring his nauseating, fear-drenched heartbeat, the way he hisses at me to get away. “Dude, I’m trying to help you avoid an iron chair, or however it is that your people extract information, so—”

Something wet lands on the front of my tank top.

Because Max spit on me.

“Ew.”I gasp, disgusted, but before I can—I don’t know, spitback?—Lowe’s hand presses against Max’s chest and pins him to the couch.

“What the fuck did you just do?” he grunts.

“She’s aVampyre!”

“She’s my—” Lowe’s hand jerks up to clutch Max’s jaw. “Apologize to mywife.”

“Sorry.Sorry. Please don’t— I’msorry.” Max starts sobbing.

Lowe turns to me. “Do you accept?”

“Accept... the spit?”

“His apology.”

“Oh.” Oh my God. What is happening? “Sure, why not? It was so... sincere and spontaneous. Just, hold his head still, and don’t let him move—yes, hands on the chin. Okay, this will take a second, don’t let him wiggle away.”

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