Bride (Bride, #1)

by Ali Hazelwood

“You,” he says, voice deep, almost too low to hear. “How the fuck do you smell like this?”

HELLO????

“Anything you’d like to say?” Moreland asks, this time to the Were child. The boy blinks several times before looking at the ground with a pout. “Sorry,” he mumbles, the r’s rounded into w’s. He looks on the verge of crying, but then dissolves into laughter when Moreland ruffles his hair and picks him up, effortlessly wedging him under his arm like a football.

Oh god.... He's good with kids. Someone shoot me

“I know you’re there,” he says, not looking at anyone in particular. I have no idea who he’s addressing until he adds, “Come down, Miss Lark.”

RAHHHHHHH

“Am I? Under your protection?” “You’re my wife.”

FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

Lowe Moreland’s palm is wrapped around the blade, less than an inch from my neck. Green blood trickles down his forearm, its rich scent crashing into me like a wave. There is no sign of pain in his eyes as they hold mine. He just saved my life.

OH?

“For the next year, let’s make sure to stay out of each other’s way. Understood?” I try to swallow. Fail the first time, do a great job the second. “And they say romance is dead,” I say, pleased not to sound as dry throated as I feel. He hesitates for a moment, and I could swear he inhales again, deep, storing up…something. His hand tightens on my back for a second before finally letting go.

Ok ngl I'm enjoying the fuck outta this so far

He is under siege in his own home.

HELL YEAH HE IS

I can live without hanging out with someone whose skull hasn’t even properly closed yet.

SMDMSKDKSJDJSJ

“That’s a very honorable sentiment. But it might reassure you to know that I lived among the Humans for nearly two decades, and murdered…” I pretend to check a note on my palm. “A whole zero. Wow.”

Oh i like herrrrr

Lowe lowers his head to murmur against my temple, “We haven’t even been married for twenty-four hours. Praying mantises have longer honeymoon periods.”

GODDDDD HE'S SO SEXY

It’s giving me flashbacks to our wedding, and this time I’m not even wearing heels, which means that he gets to loom over me in a way almost no one ever does.

TALL FMC FINALLYYYY

The birth control shot I was given before coming here was a joke, not just because Lowe and I are as likely to have sex as we are to start a podcast together, but also because he’s a Were and I a Vampyre, and we couldn’t reproduce even if we wanted to.

A PODCAST PLEASEEEJDNDNSNXNSND

I turn back to him. “Can my cat—” I stop, because Lowe’s eyes are closed. He’s inhaling deeply, as though gathering every possible air molecule within the room inside his lungs. And he looks… Tormented. In pure, absolute agony. He straightens his expression when he notices that I’m looking, but it’s too late.

DELICIOUSSSSSS

Being gone is a relief. And sheer agony.

Yeah i BET!!!!!

“Yes. We steal cars and talk with the beautiful ladies. But Alex says that Juno isn’t supposed to know.” “You play Grand Theft Auto with Alex?”

skdnsdjsndjss

“But he sleeps with me.” Ah. So that’s where he disappears to all the time. “That’s just because he hates me.” “Then maybe he’s not your cat,” she says, with the delicate somberness of a therapist who’s letting me know that I don’t have a diagnosable disorder, I’m just a bitch.

Pleaseeeeeee

They rarely touch. When they did, her wrist accidentally brushed against the front of his shirt, and he found himself tearing off the piece of fabric where her smell was most intense. He slipped it in his pocket, and now carries it everywhere. Even as he leaves to avoid her.

LIKE ARE WE JOKINGGGGGG

My husband, I discover, wears size fourteen shoes.

Y'all know what that means....

Lowe Moreland has drawn my face, and then stuffed it at the bottom of his bottom drawer.

EEEEEEEE!!!!

A heavy silence stretches, broken only by Lowe coming to stand in front of me. I’m ready to say my final words, but all he does is take off his zip-up hoodie, wrap it around my shuddery shoulders, then admire the result for a beat too long.

Bro is whipped

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, spit back?—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 a Vampyre!” “She’s my—” Lowe’s hand jerks up to clutch Max’s jaw. “Apologize to my wife.”

MY!!!!! WIFE!!!!!!!!!

My breath catches as his arm reaches inside the hoodie he put on me. His palm briefly fits on my waist, then moves north to brush against my breast, and oh my God, what— He slides his phone out of the inside pocket and pulls back. My cheeks are on fire.

MANNNNNNN

“How curious. You don’t strike me as the type who ever had a home.” I let his words churn around me for several minutes after he leaves, wondering whether he’s right. When they grind to a stop, I know he isn’t: I did have a home, and her name was Serena.

FEMALE FRIENDSHIPS OH MY HEART

“And I’m very much not an IT person, but that”—he points at my code, which is still crunching along—“does not look like Yahoo.” “Yahoo? Lowe, you’re really dating yourself here.”

SHE'S A MENACE LMAO

“Why did you go to my room? Why did you look through my closet and my drawers?” He leans forward. His voice drops to a half whisper, meant only for my ears. There’s something tortured to it, like he’s in physical pain. “Why did my bed smell like you slept in it?”

PHYSICAL PAIN OH GOD THIS MAN WANTS HER SO BAD

“Will you read me a story before bed?” she asks Lowe. “Of course, love.” He pushes a strand of still-wet hair behind her ear.

GODDDDDDD I'M KILLING MYSELF

“Liliana Esther Moreland! Come here at once, it’s an order!”

WAIT.... L.E. Moreland??????

“I don’t think it will,” I agree. “And it makes sense for us to collaborate. As Ana’s brother and Serena’s sister.” His eyes meet mine, serious and unsettling. “Not as husband and wife?”

OOP-

“Nah, it’s just more burns.” I lift my shirt and let it pool right under my bra, angling slightly to show him. “My tank top was askew, and the sun managed to get…” All of a sudden, his pupils are as large as the irises. Lowe abruptly turns his head in the opposite direction. The tendons of his neck stretch, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “You should leave,” he says. Gruff. Cutting.

SCREAMING

The last thing I hear is a phlegmy, “Okay, but did you cut the crusts off?” and a deep, hushed response that sounds a lot like, “Of course, love.”

HE WAS MAKING THE SANDWICH FOR ANA OH MY GODDDDDDD

Some nights, when he’s walking past her door, he has to whisper to himself: “Keep going.”

HOOOO BITCH

“Can I braid your hair?” “Absolutely fucking no.” A couple of hours later, half a dozen braids pull at my scalp, and Ana is snoring softly with her head in my lap.

SO SWEET :')

“Is she okay?” he asks. “Yes. I am the victim here,” I hiss, pointing at the mess on my head. His eyes travel over the braids, abruptly stopping on the visible tips of my ears. I usually hide them, just to avoid upsetting people with my otherness, and the way Lowe stares at them—first with hypnosis-like intensity, then abruptly glancing away—only reinforces that resolution.

HE IS SO IN LOVE WITH HER AND FOR GOOD FUCKING REASON BECAUSE SHE IS LOVELY UGH I JUST ADORE THESE TWO SO MUCH

Ana is delighted to see me. She runs to me, a blur of sparkly pink cotton and unicorn ears, and wraps her little arms around my waist. “We don’t always have to hug,” I tell her. She squeezes harder. I sigh. “Fine. Sure.”

I LOVE THEM

Lowe’s hand closes around mine. Our wedding bands clink together as he lifts it from the table and sets it in my lap, his grip lingering for a second. I feel hot. I shiver. Lowe clicks his tongue. “Stop playing with your food, wife,” he murmurs,

Oh my god oh my god OH MY GODDDDD

He tries to avoid thinking about what he’d do to her father if only it wouldn’t cause the worst diplomatic incident of the current century.

TEAR HIM APART LOWE

I close my eyes and think back fifteen years. A caregiver knocked on my door and introduced me to a dark-haired girl with dimples and black eyes.

THEIR FRIENDSHIP MAKES ME WANNA CRYYYYYY

“Honey,” I ask, lowering my sunglasses to the tip of my nose, “are we rich?” His glance is only mildly blistering. “We’re just banned from most Human-owned airlines, darling

Obsessed w them fr

“I know you don’t like my scent.” “I fucking love your scent.”

SCREAMING CRYING SLIDING DOWN THE WALL

Lowe watches me do it, every second of it, lips parting. He takes a small, involuntary step toward me, then retreats again, appalled at his lack of control.

HELLOOOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Is it better?” His lips press together. As though there is a flavor he wants to hold in his mouth a moment longer. “Better?” “My smell. Do I smell like…?” “Mine.” It’s a rumble in his throat. “You smell like you’re mine, Misery.”

I'M KICKING MY FEET

His mouth twitches. “There you are.” He tugs me toward a black sedan, his hand still holding on to mine.

HE'S SO IN LOVE WITH HER IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY

“Above all, I won’t take her freedom. Not when so many others have already done so.”

AAAAAAA!!!!!

He’s been picturing her during her baths. He’s been having filthy, unspeakable thoughts. He’s too tired to keep them at bay.

EEEEEEEEE!!!!!

My calf is pale against Lowe’s skin, slick with water and soap suds. When his grip slips, he turns his wrist to adjust it, and it transitions into something that’s more in the realm of a caress. Okay. So. We’ve been touching a lot, since yesterday.

HEHEHEHEHE

“You need to be told the right things.” He shrugs casually, but the movement feels the opposite of casual. “That you’re intelligent, and incredibly skilled at what you do, and brave. That despite your weird belief that you’re heartless, you’re more genuinely caring than anyone I’ve ever met. That you’re so resilient, I can’t quite wrap my head around it. That you’re very…” He pauses. Wets his lips. My heartbeat skips. “Very beautiful to look at. Always so beautiful. And that—”

OH MY GOD I'M MELTING

“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, and they are basically here—” “Feed. From me.” He looks dead serious.

OH THIS IS SCRUMPTIOUS

My breasts are achy and tender, my core throbs, and there’s an alarm in my head telling me that I should stop, that I’m drinking too much. It’s killed into silence the moment Lowe winds his fingers into the thick hair at my nape and orders: “Take more.”

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“I know,” he murmurs, soothing, commanding. “I know. Be good, I’m going to—”

BE GOOD.... Lord I'm abt to nut

“Are you okay?” I ask. Because I didn’t think to, before. He murmurs, “Come back,” a hand outstretched in my direction. I don’t think he’s okay, but neither am I, so I cross the room. He hugs me, both arms enveloping my shoulders, my head nestled under his chin.

They're giving us EVERYTHING