Page 77 of Bride

Shit, the guards arenevergonna fall for it. And they’recoming.

“They think you’re feeding,” Lowe hisses from above me. If I could devote any brain cells to not panicking, I would roll my eyes.

“I know, but since we’re here, andtheyare basically here—”

“Feed. From me.” He looks dead serious.

“What?”

“Pretend that’s what we came here for.”

“No! It’s—”

Actually, a pretty good idea. Areallygood idea, even. Still doesn’t explain why we’re in here. We could say we got lost and it was the first unlocked door we found.

“Okay.” I nod. The steps are getting closer. “Tilt your neck, I’ll pretend I’m drinking from your vein.”

“Misery.” His eyes drill into mine. “You have to bite me.”

“Why?”

“They’re Weres. They’re going to be able to smell it if you’re not really drinking.”

“What?What?I’venever—”

“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.

A second later, my fangs sink into the vein at the base of his neck.

Two seconds later, the door to the office opens.

CHAPTER 17

The past year notwithstanding, he was always comfortable with sex and everything that came with it. He knew what he liked, and he knew how to get it. He was content.

Now he can’t remember what satisfaction felt like.

It’s surprising how smoothly it all goes, especially considering how new we both are at this.

There’s Lowe, who cannot possibly have a clue of what to expect. There’s me, a notoriously bad Vampyre. And then there are some very shitty circumstances. Like how mauled we’re about to get.

And yet, even without knowing what to do, I knowexactlywhat to do. I know to draw the tip of my nose across the base of his throat to find the perfect spot. I know to stop where his blood smells the sweetest and his skin forms the thinnest veil. I know to press my lips to his flesh in a brief, indulgent moment of silent gratitude. Above all, I know without any trace of doubt, or hesitation, or fear, to bite. My canines might be unused, but they are plenty sharp, guided by instinct if not experience. And after a brief, suspended moment of screaming disorientation, Lowe’s blood fills my mouth.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. And not because I’ve onlyever fed from chilly, refrigerated bags, and in comparison, this feels scorching as fire. I think it has to do with the fact that...

The fact that this is Lowe. And his blood tastes like blood, yes, but it’s also spicy, coppery, a thrill on the back of my tongue. His blood tastes like his scent, and his smiles, and his hands lingering on my skin. Like the serious way he stares into the distance and rubs his jaw when he’s worrying about Ana. His blood is everything that he is, and I’m drinking of it. It’s the most delicious, the most earth-shattering, the most inside-out moment of my entire life.

And then the first few drops hit my stomach, and everything changes.

Mere feet from us, things are happening. I hear them distantly, dreamily: gasps; a frantic, hushed conversation that includes words likeLowe, andwife, andfeeding; a rushed, panicked apology; a door slamming closed. But all I can think of is...

“Misery,” Lowe grunts.

Warmth. I’m feverishly, beautifully warm. And empty. And bursting. And dizzy. Liquefying. And I feel like I need, need,need.

I need more. I need Lowe to be closer.

“Misery,” he breathes.

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