Page 8 of Bloodween

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it fucking matters!” His voice rose, frustration bleeding through. “She’s been hiding this from everyone. I didn’t even know until after I turned.” He stopped, forehead creasing. “But you figured it out and never said anything.”

“Wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“But you—“ He ran his hands through his hair again, looking torn between impressed and horrified. “Shit. She has no idea, does she? That you know.”

“Nope.”

“And my dumb ass told you.” He shook his head leaning back against the wall. “She’s gonna literally rip my throat out.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “Though to be fair, she’s already planning to beat your ass for cheating, so.”

His nostrils flared. “She’s tripping. Is that why y’all switched costumes?”

Maybe he’s not that dumb after all.

“I told her it was nothing.”

I watched his face carefully. “Come on, Dro. You wolves have crazy senses. She can smell other women on you.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not—it’s complicated.”

“It always is.”

“My wolf—” He cut himself off, shoulders tight. “I’m still learning control. Varek - the hide - he wants… things.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?” His voice went rough. “Because it’s not about control. It’s about need. Varek doesn’t care about consequences. He wants—“ He stopped again, shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

The way my body clenched in his presence, I felt like I did understand.

I understood want. I understood need.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then, quietly: “Was that the only reason you switched costumes with her?”

“What do you mean?”

He sucked in air. “Nothing.”

Liar.

“Yes, she wanted to go back to your apartment because she knew she’d find proof on your iPad,” I told him her plan because what did it matter. “She was on her way back when you drugged me.”

“I already said it was fae dust,” he muttered.

“Same difference.”

“Did she find anything?” he questioned. His voice was somewhere between caring and not giving a damn.

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked my phone.” My eyes shifted down to the restraints. “Speaking of, I’m sure she’s been blowing you up too. How didn’t you know I wasn’t her? She didn’t call?”

“My phone died on the way here. Haven’t charged it.”

“Speaking of here, where the hell are we?”