“I’m not sending you out there on your own.”

I think—I’m not positive, because of the water, and the foam, and the sheer improbability of it—but I think Lowe might be brushing his fingertips against the arch of my sole.

A tactile hallucination.

“You’re a Vampyre. If Emery’s guards find you, they’ll attack first, ask questions later.” He presses his lips together. “Stick close, okay?”

“I can fight,” I say. To give him an out. To avoid thinking about what’s going on underwater.

“I don’t care. I’m not taking the chance, not with you.”

I’m not sure whether to be flattered or indignant. So I opt for a flat “Okay.”

He nods and finally lets go of me. I watch the play of his shoulder blades as he walks away and savor the glow his skin left on mine for a long time after he’s gone.

Koen is an asshole, in the most delicious and entertaining of ways. He seems to have distinct preferences, strong opinions, and little interest in keeping either to himself.

“Let’s all thank Lowe for the opportunity to not have to tune out one of Roscoe’s deranged rants tonight,” he proclaims loudly while taking a seat at the dinner table. I nearly choke on my spit, but no one else appears concerned that a brawl might be on the verge of erupting, not even Emery.

I’m relieved that he doesn’t hate me. The opposite, actually: when we meet, he clasps my shoulder and pulls me in for a bear hug that has me wondering whether he’s aware that I’m a Vampyre, or that Lowe and I are not actually married. He must be around ten years older than us, somewhere between a big brother and a father figure for Lowe. But before dinner, when I watched them talk—two tall men wearing identical button-downs and exchanging hushed, comfortable words—the mutual affection and respect was obvious.

And yet, they’re as different as night and day. Lowe might be aloof at times, but there is something fundamentally kind about him, selfless and patient. Koen is brash. Cocksure. A little vicious. He’s indeed no fan of Emery’s, and willing to declare it as forcefully as possible.

Other guests are more relatives, and a few former seconds of Roscoe’s who decided to stay neutral during the change in leadership. Most seem to have realized that Lowe is their best bet, or maybe they’re simply beguiled by whatever his Alpha magic is, and act deferentially, but one of them—John—is wearing a necklace with a vial of something purple that looks a lot like Vampyre blood. Lowe stares at him for a long time when he notices, long enough that I’m certain a fight will break out, and I find myself reaching for one of the meat knives, just in case. After a beat, John lowers his eyes—a show of submissiveness if I’ve ever seen one—and the tension in the room seems to deflate.

When I next see him, the necklace is gone.

The topic of new alliances with the Vampyres and the Humans comes up at the table, and the only person to bring up objections is Emery. “I hear you and that new Human governor-elect have been . . . meeting,” she tells Lowe.

“Maddie Garcia, yes.”

“Do you really mean to establish an alliance with—”

“It’s done,” he says, eyes holding hers. “There are details to iron out, but the Weres and the Humans are going to be allies as soon as her term begins.”

Emery composes herself. “Of course. But is it not offensive to the memory of the Weres who fought and died in the wars against the other species?” she asks, with the tone of someone who’s merely asking an innocent question.

Amanda, a young woman who came with Koen and is sitting across from me, theatrically rolls her dark eyes. When she smiles at me, I smile back.

“That’s not my intention, but if it were, it still seems preferable to more of my pack dying.” Lowe stresses the word my, a not-so-subtle reminder.

“I understand the push for a ceasefire, I suppose.” Her eyes flicker to me. “Are you not worried about what this might mean for your pack, Koen? The Humans border your territory.”

“No.” Koen takes a bite of his steak. He and Lowe bickered like an old married couple over who’d get to eat mine, so I decided to give it to Amanda. Look, Serena, I’m making friends. “Not all of us live to stir up shit with other species, Emery.”

“Indeed. Some of you even have Vampyre spouses.” Her tone is chilly. Here I was, thinking she approved of our love.

“Some of us are lucky,” Lowe says, sincere-sounding, like our marriage is one of his proudest accomplishments, the culmination of years of deeply harbored love. Good actor. “Do you need to feed?” he asks, turning to me, voice instantly more intimate, and yep.

Great actor, great timing.

“Please.” I smile adoringly at my nurturing partner, pretending not to notice the gagging looks around us.

He holds my eyes and murmurs, “Let’s go, then.” We step out of the dining room just as Koen calls John a fuckwaffle.

“Does he like to make enemies? Start fights? Watch the world burn?”

“Koen’s big on . . .” Lowe searches for the right words. “Unfiltered honesty.”

No shit. “Who did he challenge? To become Alpha, I mean.”

“No one. His mother was Alpha before him. When she passed, Koen just ascended.”

“How delightfully monarchic. And the pack was just okay with it?”

“Not all of them.”

“And?”

His hand presses on my lower back, wordlessly asking me to take a right. “There were challengers.”

“And?”

“He’s been Alpha for well over a decade, has he not?”

“Mmm. True. Are he and Amanda doing it?”

“She’s his second.”

“Well, are they?”

A brief pause. “Traditionally, the Alpha of the Northwest pack takes a vow of celibacy.”

Oh, God. “Did you?”

Lowe shakes his head. “Feels like it, though,” he murmurs, just as we reach the office. I immediately unhook a pin from my nape and drop on my knees in front of the lock, letting my dress bunch up my thighs. A few seconds later I open the door with a butler-like flourish.

“What?” I whisper, noticing the upturned corner of Lowe’s mouth.

He slips in first, scans the room, then gestures me inside. “Just picturing you doing the same . . .” He closes the door behind him and turns on the light. I see a fireplace so large it could comfortably sleep a midsize family—and a suspicious amount of antlered wall decor. “To break into my room.”

“Ah. Right.” I flinch. “About that, I am sorry that . . .”

“You went through my underwear?”

“Yeah, that.”

He points at the computer on the desk with a small smile, and I dart there, giving the antlers a wide berth, glad to have something else to focus on. “I’ll hide your scent, but make sure you touch as little as possible,” he reminds me.

We don’t have much time, so I nod and hurry. Lowe already bugged several spots in the house, but what I’m doing will allow us to track and rifle through any communication from all of Emery’s devices. And since she doesn’t have an Alex, she’ll never realize.

“Need anything from me?” Lowe asks while I slip into the network, voice pitched low.

I nod between keystrokes. “Set up the Ubertooth and hand me the LAN Turtle.” I snort at his wide-eyed I-didn’t-know-the-essay-was-due-today-and-my-dog-ate-it-anyway expression. “I was kidding. Just keep guard.”

“Thank fuck.” His relief could jump-start a truck’s battery. “How long do you need?”

“Six minutes, tops. Too long?”

“No. I doubt they know how little time it takes you to feed.”

I beam up at him. “Why, thank you.”

“Was that a compliment?” His head tilts in confusion.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Weren’t you trying to say how low-maintenance I am?”

“No.”

“Bummer.” I bend my head and quickly type the code. “Well, I rescind my warm acceptance of your non-compliment.”