Bride (Bride, #1)

by Ali Hazelwood

He cages me, pins me, and stares down at me like he forgot where he is and I’m something to be consumed. Like I’m prey.

“She’s my—” Lowe’s hand jerks up to clutch Max’s jaw. “Apologize to my wife.”

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

“My smell. Do I smell like…?” “Mine.” It’s a rumble in his throat. “You smell like you’re mine, Misery.”

“You think, but you don’t know. You don’t know anything about what it’s like to find your other half,” he continues, voice low and sharp. “I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I’ll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body—I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me.”

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

He shakes his head, eyes burning into mine. “You’re not a problem, Misery. You’re a privilege.”