“Yup. She interviewed him, though the article was never published.”
“But I background checked him. I checked everyone she talked to—I found nothing about him being in the Human-Were Bureau.”
“Precisely. His CV is all over the place, but there are no mentions anywhere that he was at the Bureau for eleven months, eight years ago.”
My head spins. I cover my mouth.
“Now,” Alex adds, “you’ve both been very withholding, and I don’t fully understand the significance of any of this, but if you tell me why I’m looking into this guy, I could—”
“Alex,” Lowe interrupts gently. “It’s getting late. You should go home.”
Alex turns to him, wide-eyed.
“You did a great job. Have a good night.”
Alex’s hesitation is negligible. He stands, bows his head once, and clasps my shoulder on his way out. Lowe’s eyes hold mine the entire time, but I wait until the kitchen door locks in the frame to say, “Thomas Jalakas must be Ana’s father. I mean, could this be a coincidence?”
“Yes.”
I scoff, skeptical. “Fine. But is it?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe so, no.” He navigates through the browser tabs and shows me a picture. “This is Thomas.”
“Holy shit.” I study his wide mouth. The square jaw. The dimples. The resemblance to Ana is undeniable. “This means that Serena met with Ana’s father—and I never realized it, because I assumed it was for her financial stuff.”
Lowe nods.
“He has to be the person who told her about Ana. We have to talk to him.”
“We can’t.”
“Why? I can get answers from him. If you help me, I might be able to thrall him and—”
“He’s dead, Misery.”
Dread crawls up my spine. “When?”
“Two weeks after Serena disappeared. A car accident.”
The implications sink into me instantly. Serena, that fucking idiot, got herself involved in something incredibly dangerous. And the other person who was involved in it is now dead, which—
“Misery.” Lowe’s hand blankets mine, large and warm. “I don’t think it means she’s dead.”
It’s what I needed to hear. I silently beg him to continue.
“I don’t believe for a second that this is a coincidence, but whoever got rid of him had the resources to make it look like an accident. They would have done the same for Serena to avoid loose ends.”
I stare at his strong fingers and think it through. Maybe. Yes. It makes some sense. At the very least, it’s something to hope for.
“If not with him, we should still talk with his aides, his colleagues, his predecessor, someone who—”
“Governor Davenport.”
I look up. Lowe’s eyes are calm. Direct. “What?”
“Thomas Jalakas was appointed by Governor Davenport, Misery. Both his Bureau position and his latest one.”
“I . . . Is it even a normal career path? Going from an interspecies bureau to some huge financial office?”
“Excellent question.” Lowe removes his hand. The cool night air hits me like a slap. “You should ask Governor Davenport tomorrow, while we’re having dinner at his place.”
My jaw drops. “When did you get us a dinner invitation?”
“When Alex told me about this. Three hours ago.”
“That was quick.”
“I am the Alpha of the Southwest pack,” he reminds me, a little archly. “I do have some power.”
“I guess.” I let out a single, incredulous laugh. I could kiss him. I want to kiss him. “What did you tell him?”
“That we have a gift for him. To thank him for hosting our wedding ceremony in his territory.”
“He believed that?”
“He’s an idiot, and Humans are apparently big on thank-you gifts.” He shrugs. “I read it online.”
“Wow. You were able to fire up a browser all on your ow—”
He shushes me with his thumb on my lips. “I know you can fight. I know you’ve been taking care of yourself since you were a kid. I know you’re not part of my pack, or my real wife, or my . . . But there isn’t a single part of me that wants to take you into enemy territory. Especially days after you were almost killed in mine. For my peace of mind, please be careful tomorrow.”
I nod, trying not to think about whether anyone else has cared about my safety as much as he does. The answer would be too depressing. “Lowe, thank you. This is the first lead on Serena in a long time, and—” My stomach growls, and I remember why I came downstairs.
My organism, slowly self-cannibalizing.
“Sorry.” I get to my feet and reach for the bag I left on the counter. “I know we were having a moment of gratitude and rainbows, but I really need to feed. I’ll just need a—”
Lowe is suddenly behind me. His hand closes around mine, stopping me.
“What—?”
“I don’t want you to drink that.”
I look at my bag. “It’s sealed. It cannot be contaminated. Plus, I can smell crappy blood.”
“That’s not the reason.”
I tilt my head, confused.
“Use me.”
I don’t get it. And then I do get it, and my entire body melts into lava. Stiffens into lead.
“Oh, no.” I feel hot. Hotter than after a feeding. Hotter than while gorging myself on blood. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He is so earnest. And young. And the boldest I’ve ever seen him—when his baseline is pretty bold. “I want to,” he repeats, even more determined.
Jesus. “I talked with Owen. Before the poison.”
Lowe nods. His gaze is eager.
“I think I shouldn’t have fed from you.”
“Why?”
“He said that it’s not something people should do unless they are . . .”
Lowe nods as though he understands. But then he licks his lips. “And you and I aren’t?” He’s so genuinely eager to know, it’s like electricity injected straight into my nerve endings.
I think about the last few days. The escalating intimacy between us. Yes, Lowe and I are. But. “It goes beyond just sex. Long-term feedings create bonds and tangle lives together. It’s something that is strictly done by people who have deep feelings for each other, or the will to develop them.”
Lowe listens intently, eyes never wavering. When he asks, “And you and I don’t?” it’s like a knife skewering my heart.
“We . . .” My stomach is an empty, open ache. “Do we?”
He’s silent. Like he has his answer, but he’s willing to wait for me to find mine.
“It’s just, it would be different from what we’ve done before. It’s not just sex, or fun. If we get into the habit of this, in the long term, there could be . . . consequences.”
“Misery.” His voice is soft. Faintly amused. There is a solemn shine in his eyes. “We are the consequences.”
The problem is: this cannot possibly end well. I’m not sure I’m even ready to demand someone’s unconditional love and devotion, but Lowe’s heart is occupied. And it’s reckless to see what’s happening between us as something more than the forced proximity of two people thrown together by a flurry of political machinations.
I’ve come after something, after someone, my entire life—always the means, never the end—and I’ve made my peace with it. I don’t resent Father for putting my safety after the well-being of the Vampyres, Owen for being chosen as his successor, Serena for valuing her freedom more than my company. I may never have been anyone’s main preoccupation, but I know better than to spend my time on this Earth simply begrudging.
But when I’m with Lowe I feel different, because he is different. He never treats me like I’m the runner-up, even though I know I am. I could see myself becoming jealous, envious. Greedy for what he cannot give. It could quickly become unbearable, the pain of being just an afterthought to him. Not to mention that if—when, dammit, when—I find Serena, I’m going to have to make some important choices.
“Misery,” he says, patient. Always patient, but also urgent. I realize that he’s offering me his hand. It’s outstretched, waiting for me, and . . . This cannot possibly end well. And yet, I think Lowe might be right. The two of us, we’re well past avoiding what’s between us.