I probably black out a little. Because when everything recedes, I find Lowe crowding my body, still hard against my hip. His jeans are warm and sticky. His heartbeat pounds on the back of my tongue as he guides my head to his neck. “I think,” he says, winded, hoarse, “I’m going to lock you in this closet forever.”
I nuzzle closer. “I think I’d love that.” My fangs graze against his vein until he growls. I reach for the button of his jeans, fumble with it, and I almost have it open when his phone rings.
I whimper, disappointed. Lowe clutches my hip once, forcefully, then again before letting go. He vibrates with frustrated tension as he disentangles us. He sighs heavily after checking the caller ID, and hands the phone to me with shaky hands.
I reach for my discarded towel to cover myself and try not to pay attention to the way Lowe is breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down.
Owen’s formal “Congratulations on evading your first assassination attempt” is so factually incorrect, I almost hang up on him.
“My first? Excuse me?”
He rolls his eyes. “I meant in this round of Collateral duties. My apologies. Allow me to restate: I fucking told you this would happen, and you need to come back home immediately.”
“Home.” I drum my fingers against my chin. “You mean, to the people who sent me twice into enemy territory?”
“They technically sent you into ally territory, and you almost got killed, so get your ass back here.”
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.
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—
“Stop eye-fucking each other in front of me—this is incest. Bestiality, at the very least. Misery.” Owen switches to the Tongue, “There is something I need to tell you. About your friend—”
“In English,” I interrupt.
He gives me an incredulous look, eyes darting between me and Lowe.
“He’s helping me search for Serena,” I explain.
“He’s helping you.”
“Yup.”
He rolls his eyes again. “Your friend’s apartment was broken into three days ago.”
“What?” I shift forward. “By whom?”
“Not sure, because whoever did it also messed with the cameras in the apartment complex. But I’m having some friends look into alternative sources.”
“Like what?”
“Footage from security cameras in the surrounding buildings.”
“Did they take anything?” Lowe asks.
“Very difficult to tell, considering the state they left the place in.”
I massage my temple, wondering for a millionth time what Serena got herself involved in.
“And there’s more,” Owen adds. “Something important. But I can’t talk about it on the phone, so we’ll need to meet in person.”
I glance at Lowe. “Could we arrange it?”
“Yes. Give me a few hours.”
“Very well.” He nods at Lowe, then switches back to the Tongue. “I am glad you’re still with me.” His eyes meet mine, and I almost believe he means it. When I notice the brackets on each side of his mouth, it occurs to me that there’s an air about my usually carefree, glib brother that mirrors Lowe’s: Tired. Worried. Heavy.
“I’m glad to still be with you,” I reply. It might be the most vulnerable we’ve been with each other. Marriage is making a sap out of me.
“And whatever is happening between you two, fuck it out of your system before people find out.” He hangs up, and I instantly turn to Lowe.
“Will we really?” I ask.
His eyes are instantly hooded. His lips move unintelligibly for a few moments. “The things I want to—”
“I mean, will we be meeting him in person?”
“Ah.” He clears his throat. “As soon as I can arrange it.”
I nod gratefully. “Thank you. Um, the other thing, too, I would—”
His phone rings again. He picks up with a curt “Lowe,” peeling his eyes from mine with great effort.
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll take care of it.”
He slips the phone in his pocket and then lingers here, on the floor of my closet, more than is necessary. “I have to go—pack business. And I should get changed first. But I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay. I’ll be here, I guess.” I’m not sure what to say. All that happened in the past hour is slowly solidifying. Becoming concrete and awkward between us.
I think he wants to stay.
I think I want him to stay.
“Be good,” he says, getting up.
And then immediately crouches down again, just to kiss my forehead.
CHAPTER 22
She makes him want to draw again.
Imust have fallen asleep again, because when I open my eyes it’s a little before midnight. Dragging a T-shirt and leggings on is a feat worthy of a thousand armies, and I barely manage. I haven’t fed in a week, and my body must be well enough to demand sustenance, because my stomach cramps painfully.
I stagger downstairs, trying to recall if I’ve ever gone without blood this long before. The closest was when I first moved back to Human territory, before Serena found me an under-the-table seller I could afford. By the time I got my hands on a small bag it had been three days, and I felt as though my internal organs were feasting on themselves.
Maybe it’s because my body is shutting down, but I stumble into the kitchen without noticing Lowe and Alex. I stop like a deer in the headlights, wondering why they’re huddled in front of a computer. It’s a bit late for a meeting.
“Is Ana okay?” I ask, and they both look up at me in surprise.
“Ana’s fine.”
I relax. Then tense again. “Did Owen find that footage?”
Lowe shakes his head.
“You both look really serious, so— Wait, Alex, what are you—”
Alex has stood from his chair and is currently hugging me.
This is a nightmare. Maybe Vampyres do dream, after all.
“Thank you,” he says. “For what you did for Ana.”
“What did I— Oh.” This is weird. “You know that I didn’t ingest that poison voluntarily to protect her, right? I just happen to be disgracefully into peanuts.”
“You would have, though,” he mumbles against my hair.
“What?”
“Protected her.”
I gently push him away, too hungry to argue over whether I’m a good person. I might like him better when he’s terrified of me. “Listen, I’m going to feed before I’m tempted to bite one of Ana’s stuffies or—” I gasp. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sparkles. Serena’s damn fucking cat. I forgot about him! Did someone feed him? Is he dead?” How long can cats go without eating? An hour? A month?
“He’s safe with Ana,” Lowe informs me.
“Oh.” I press my palm to my chest. “I’ll need him back if—when I find Serena. Though at this point he’s been with Ana longer.” I take a bag out of the fridge. “Maybe they can work out some joint custody—”
“Misery, I found it,” Alex tells me excitedly. “Serena Paris!”
“You found Serena?”
“No, but I found the connection.” He leads me back to the table and we both take a seat next to Lowe. “That search we were working on before you . . .” He gestures at me.
“Almost croaked?”
“Yes. I continued it while you were . . .”
“Almost croaking?”
“And it was surprisingly difficult. So difficult, I figured we were onto something.”
“How so?”
“The identities of the Human-Were Bureau workers were nowhere to be found, which is odd for that kind of government employee.” I glance at Lowe, who stares back calmly. He’s already been briefed. “So I looked . . . harder, let’s say. And stumbled on a list with a very familiar name.”
“What name?”
“Thomas Jalakas. He was the Human—”
“—comptroller of public accounts.” I nod slowly. I’m not sure what that even means, but I do know that it has to do with finance and the economy, because: “Serena emailed with his office. For an article that she was writing. And then she met him in person.”