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Owen makes a gagging sound. “How touching. Moving on to more entertaining topics and the reason for this meeting.” His lilac eyes settle into mine. “I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”
I must have misheard. “What?”
“I’m going to take over Father’s seat on the council.”
Nope, I heard correctly. “Did Father . . . die?”
Owen tilts his head. “Do you think I would neglect to inform you if Father died? Actually, I could see myself doing that. No, Father is alive. But I am in disagreement with many of his decisions of late. Many. I think I could do better, and I decided to make a bid for his seat. I’d love your support.”
“My support?” I push away from the car and disentangle from Lowe, facing my brother. My cuckoo-bananas brother. “Making a bid? That’s not a thing people do.”
He shrugs. “It’s a thing I’m doing.”
“How?”
“I’m happy to share my plan in detail. In two weeks, at the a
“Do not share.” I look between Lowe and Gabi, who seem engrossed in our exchange. “You know what the punishment for high treason is?” He must, because I do, and I never know shit. But I do remember what happened when I was seven and Councilwoman Selamio’s brother tried to steal her birthright from her, or when Councilman Khatri died suddenly, without naming which one of his two sons would inherit the position.
Slaughter, that’s what happened. Lots of purple spatter. Father would never react to having his seat usurped with anything but bloodshed. And by his lazy, hedonistic son? “He’s not just a member, Owen. He’s the leader of the council.”
“Unofficial.”
“Bullshit.”
“And anyway,” he continues like he didn’t hear me, “his prominent position could be in my favor. Lots of councilmembers are dissatisfied with the way he’s been seizing power.”
Wild. Buck wild. “Who knows about this?”
“I have been slowly spi
He’s dead. My only sibling left is as good as dead. “Why?”
“It seemed prudent.”
I pinch my nose, because—fuck. Fuck. “Do you even want to be a councilman?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not? Could be fun.”
“Owen. Just . . .” I bury my face in my hands and Lowe stands from the hood of the car, coming to massage my shoulders in this moment of desperate need. I suppose he’s trying to be comforting, but I feel his amusement in my bones.
Maybe I could punch him and Owen. Just a little bit. Wouldn’t that make me feel better?
Yes. Yes, it would.
“Misery. My sister.” He shifts to the Tongue. “You are displaying more feelings than usual. Are you not well?”
I straighten and take a deep breath. Even though Owen and I were born three minutes apart, clearly I’m the adult. “Listen, I’m really trying to find that bitch Serena, and I’ve grown really fond of Lowe’s a
“Three months ago.”
“—it would be really . . . What?”
Owen’s eyes harden. “Three months ago, Misery. I’ve been working on this plan since I discovered that my father was considering sending my sister into enemy territory. Again.” He bares his fangs, and his tone is uncharacteristically earnest. “I could do nothing when we were children. I could do nothing when you returned, because I was too much of a coward to take a stand. I ca
I study him, astonished. Realizing that in all the years we spent apart, as I grew and changed and built my own life, my idiot brother did, too, and turned into . . .
Not an idiot, clearly.
“Father is going to kill you,” I repeat. This time not with the intent of dissuading him.
“Maybe.” He turns to a spot high above my shoulder. Lowe. “Any advice on how to successfully carry out a coup, Alpha?”
“I was going to recommend a hearty breakfast, but . . .”
“How unfortunate.”
Lowe’s hand slides to my waist, pulling me into his larger body. “I’m no fan of your father. And as the Weres and the Vampyres form alliances, I would love to see someone whose priorities align with mine.” My brother and my husband look at me, then at each other. Something I ca
Owen spends the next minutes updating me on the complex network of his supporters, allies, and coconspirators. He assures me that no one knows about his plan, and surprisingly, I find that I believe him. He may seem ostentatiously careless, but he’s been nothing but careful and circumspect about this. Still, he quickly shifts to inane gossip I’m not interested in, and I find myself tuning him out when I overhear Lowe asking Gabi, “. . . anything you need?”
“Not really. There have been no signs of danger so far. Owen is surprisingly decent company and gave me access to his gaming consoles. Everyone else has been treating me coldly and leaving me alone, which is fantastic—they’re real pros at this Collateral exchange thing. They’ve had to deal with Human children for decades, and I’m much lower maintenance than that. They’re monitoring my internet usage, of course, but I have plenty of time to work on my master’s. I’m taking five classes this semester.”
“Finance, was it?”
“Electrical engineering. I should be done at the end of the year.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. And you? You seem happy with your . . .” I think Gabi is pointing at me, but I ca
“Let’s go, Gabi,” Owen calls, spi
I roll my eyes, then brace myself again. Lowe and Gabi didn’t greet each other warmly, but now it’s sure to happen: a hug, a tender moment, a wistful goodbye. She may not know that she’s his mate, but he feels for her.
I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world.
He’ll take what he can now, and even though I told myself I’d be able to deal with this when it happened, the jealous heartache is too much. I ca
But I’m just a couple of feet away when I hear, “Let me know if the situation changes,” followed by a short, “Yes, Alpha.” There are two sets of steps: Gabi walking after Owen, Lowe heading for the driver’s seat, and nothing else.
Nothing more than a friendly wave.
When I glance at Lowe, he’s not looking back in her direction. Not tracking her with his eyes. Not rubbing his jaw with his palm like he does when he is worried, or nervous, or pensive. His mate is heading back to enemy territory, and he might never see her again, and he is . . .
Smiling, actually.
I sit in the passenger seat, staring at my knees, thinking about what Lowe told me. A mate grabs you by the stomach, he said, and he was so sure of it, I felt it in my stomach, too. He made it sound like a thought that won’t quit, a spectacle impossible to tear one’s eyes from. But with Gabi . . .
Maybe I ca