“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.”
I feel the exact same. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “It must be—I’m going to talk to my brother. It might be something I’ve done.” It’s not. It’s just right.
Lowe’s stubble drags against my temple. “Have you had enough?”
“Enough?”
“Blood.”
“Oh. Yes.”
But, I’d like more.
But, May I have more?
I want it. So bad. I’m about to say fuck it and ask for it assertively, like a big girl, when the door opens again. This time, Lowe and I manage to break apart. He steps protectively in front of me, the tenderness between us dissolving.
“I thought my guards were having hallucinations,” Emery says, eyeing us suspiciously. “I must have forgotten to lock this room.” Her gaze lingers on Lowe’s neck—woundless, but faintly bluish-green. As if someone latched on to it and didn’t let go for a long while. “When you mentioned feeding, Lowe, I assumed . . .” Her lips twist into something that resembles disgust.
“You should never. Assume, that is.” Lowe’s voice is cutting.
And then Koen appears behind Emery, leaning against the doorjamb with a shit-eating grin. “I, for one, am glad the kids are having fun.”
“Yeah, well. When you’re done, please come back to the table. We’re waiting for you for dessert.”
“Aunt Emery, they already had dessert.”
Emery makes a revulsed face and brushes past Koen. Lowe doesn’t relax even when she’s gone: his broad shoulders remain tense, gaze fixed on Koen as if he were a threat, someone I should be shielded from, instead of Lowe’s most trusted and valuable ally.
Which, going by his amused smile, Koen knows. “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. “I got a phone call. Cal tried to reach you with something important but wasn’t able to. It’s urgent.”
“I left my phone back in my room.”
Koen’s eyebrow lifts. “Yeah. Not sure it would have made a difference if it had been in your pocket.”
Lowe rolls his eyes but eases up a fraction. “What’s going on?”
“He mentioned the possibility of you heading home tonight instead of tomorrow morning. Something about Ana, I think.”
CHAPTER 18
Her presence soothes him more than a full-moon run.
Itry to use the time on the plane to make sure that the tracker is in place and working remotely, but the Wi-Fi signal is too spotty, and I end up tossing my Raspberry Pi to the side with an angry grunt. Lowe and I don’t exchange more than a couple of perfunctory words on the flight. He pilots in a focused, self-assured way, his thoughts clearly full of concern for Ana.
My heart aches for him.
“It started when you left,” Mick explains grimly when he picks us up. “I know, I know,” he immediately adds when he sees Lowe’s expression, “I should have told you, but it was a low fever. I assumed she’d eaten something funny. But then she started shivering and said that her bones hurt. And started to vomit.”
Lowe, whose Alpha nature manifests through having to drive every single means of transport he boards, pulls up to the house. “Can she keep liquids down?”
“Not much. Juno’s upstairs with her.” He looks about five years older than when we left. And so do Juno and Cal, who are pacing outside of Lowe’s room, where Ana chose to make her sickbed. I wonder if her brother’s smell is thicker in there, reassuring her that everything is going to be all right.
I have no doubt Lowe is terrified, but he never shows it. Even earlier tonight, when we were about to be discovered, he never panicked. Maybe it’s an Alpha trait, the making of a good leader: the ability to back-burner emotions and focus on what needs to be done. I think Father would agree.
“Is this—being sick. Is it not something that happens to full Weres?” I ask.
Cal and Mick seem taken aback. Juno just asks Lowe, calmly, “You told her about Ana?” and seems unsurprised when he nods. “We’re not really susceptible to viruses,” she explains to me, “or bacteria, or whatever this is. There are select poisons that affect us, but not this way.”
It occurs to me that because of Ana’s physiology, a Were doctor would be useless. And because of Ana’s physiology, a Human doctor would put her at risk of being discovered. “Is it the first time this has happened?”
Lowe nods. “She’s had a runny nose and some sneezing in the past. We passed them off as allergies.”
“We still have that Tyler medicine,” Cal offers. “The one we got months ago.”
“Tylenol?” I ask.
He gives me an admiring look. “How do you know?”
I smile. “Just guessing. That might help with the fever and the pain, but . . .” I shrug, and while the others try to decide how to proceed, I go check on Ana directly. She looks small and fragile in the middle of Lowe’s king bed, and her forehead burns under my hand. I’m convinced she’s asleep, but her “Can you keep it there?” when I’m about to leave tells me otherwise. “You feel so cool.”
“Who do you think I am?” For her pleasure, I produce a deep frown. “Your personal ice pack?”
Her giggle squeezes my chest.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Like I’m about to puke on you.”
“Could you please puke on Sparkles first?”
She gives it a long thought before formally declaring, “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.
“Were there giraffes in California?”
“Not in the wild, love.”
She purses her lips. “I’d like a more aunenthic present next time.”
“Noted.”
“Lowe?”
“Yes.”
“I miss Mama.”
Lowe’s eyes briefly flutter shut, like he can’t bear to keep them open. “I know, love.”
“Why does Misha get to have two parents and I get none? It’s not fair.”
“No.” He gently smooths down her hair, and I feel it deep inside my bones that he’d burn the entire world for her. “It’s not.”
He holds her head when, just a couple of minutes later, a new wave of nausea has her dry-retching into a bucket. We stay with her until she falls asleep, clutching both our hands with her little fingers.
When we step out of the room, there are deep grooves around Lowe’s mouth. “I’m going to take her to Human territory,” he says to the others, in that Alpha decree tone of his that doesn’t allow pushback. “I’ll find a doctor who won’t ask too many questions or perform any unnecessary exams. It’s not ideal, but we simply don’t know enough about her Human half, even at baseline, to interpret—”
“I do,” I interrupt. Everyone turns to gawk at me. “At least, I have more experience with Humans than you guys.”
“Actually,” Cal starts.
“Experience with Humans that doesn’t involve murdering them,” I tell him with a pointed look. He concedes that I’m right with a sheepish nod.
But Mick, who’s usually my ally, scratches his neck and says in a pained tone, “Misery, it’s a really kind offer, but you’re not a Human, you’re a Vampyre.”
“I lived among Humans for one and a half decades. With a Human sister.”
“You’re saying you know what’s wrong with her?” Lowe asks me.
“No, but I’m fairly sure it’s either bacterial or viral, and I know what meds Serena used for each.” They’re all still looking at me skeptically. “Listen, I’m not saying this is foolproof, and I’m no physician, but it’s probably better than moving her while she’s already so weak, or exposing her to someone who might figure out her . . . situation.”