I glare at him. “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”
“I’m suggesting you’re a bit distracted.”
I frown. “By what?”
“By your pretty fiancée, though I think it’s more than her beauty that has you ruffled.”
I cross my arms. It felt wrong to tell my parents what I noticed, not out of some sense of loyalty to her but more out of not knowing what to make of it. But Bryce and Carter are different. They’ve survived the same crucible, been forged by the same fires.
“What happened in the woods?” Carter asks.
“She was afraid, but also—” I swirl the liquid in my glass.
“But also…” Bryce prompts.
I glance around the bar, but no one is paying us any mind. “But she stayed focused and precise. The shock didn’t hit her until we were out of harm’s way.”
Carter’s brows shoot up. “So your city girl has seen some things?”
I nod. “I suspect she has. Back in Lunameade, her father sliced her arm to have me prove my ability and she didn’t so much as flinch—and that was not a scratch. Then she was wounded in the fight in the woods—claws in her shoulder, a broken wrist—and said nothing.” I scrub a hand over my face.
Carter’s jaw drops. “She’s got you.”
I balk. “She does not. I can tell that these things have slipped out when she didn’t mean them to.”
Carter leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “So you’re telling me this woman who casually fought off the Drained, who tried to murder you twice already, who curates an appearance designed to entice and trick men, hasaccidentallylet things slip to you?”
When he puts it like that, I doubt myself, but I know what I saw on her face, what I felt from her in those moments.
“He’s fucked.” Bryce laughs and pours some more whiskey into my glass.
I rub the back of my neck. “I’m fine. Nothing has changed. I just think there’s more to uncover with her.”
Bryce waggles his eyebrows. “Sure is. Just a few more days until you get to uncover all of her.”
I shake my head. “You better stand at the back of the crowd at the wedding ritual. I’m not listening to you make cracks about my wife’s tits for the rest of my life.”
Bryce’s grin widens. “I make no promises.”
Naima wanders over to our booth with a tray in her hand. “Making no promises is a wise choice for you. I’ve heard more than enough about how you’re going to someday pay your tab.”
“Naima, you wound me.” Bryce clutches at his chest. “You know I’m good for it.”
A smile lights in her eyes as she gathers our empty glasses on her tray and kisses Carter on the cheek. “I know you’re good for nothing but trouble. Keep an eye on my love tonight. You know how those brutes can be when someone is breaking up their fun.”
Since Naima and Carter are in a monogamous relationship, Carter often opts to police hunt night and make sure that everyone is abiding by the rules that keep participants safe. Most people have no issue following them to the letter, fearing Kennymyra’s wrath if they violate a sacred ritual. But sometimes people get lost in the frenzy and get especially aggressive and territorial. Being part of the safety patrol can be a rough job.
“What about you, Hen? Are you on guard duty, or will you be indulging?” Naima asks, absently running her fingers over the nape of Carter’s neck.
“Last chance before I’m a married man—not to mention I’ve been away too long to skip it,” I say.
Naima smiles warmly, her light brown eyes bright with mischief. “Carter tells me your wife is feisty. I think she’ll be good for you.”
“It’s not that kind of match. She’s just a part of my job,” I say.
Naima smirks. “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune after you take her to bed.”
She and Carter have overly romantic notions, but what they have is rare.
