Page 11 of Mate
“And you and the truth are particularly tight?”
He assesses me for a beat. “I’m not going tolieto you, Serena.”
“Well, I’m probably going to lie to youa lot.”
“Yeah?” His smile is almost charmed. “What kind of lies do you tell?”
“All sorts.” I swallow. Glance at my own knees. “But only if it’s for the greater good.”
“You sure?”
Yes. “What about you? Areyousure?”
“Sure of . . . ?”
“How do you know that I’m really your mate?”
“I just do. Trust me on it.”
I do, surprisingly. In fact, I’m less concerned with what he feels, and more with . . . “How can I tell if someone is my mate? I want to know if I feel the same about you.”
He waves the question away. “You don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“If you did, you’d be aware.”
“That’s not true. Maybe the signs are there, but I’m missing them because I’m only half Were.”
“You couldn’t miss them.”
My throat is dry. My stomach, heavy with disappointment. Did I . . . ? No. Come on. I don’twanta mate, whatever that means. My sex drive’s cobwebs have grown their own cobwebs. I’ve always needed bucketloads of time alone. Plus, I’m still figuring outwhatI am. This isn’t the start of anything.
Except.
“I do feel . . . very safe. Here, with you,” I confess, retreating inward for a moment, groping at my unintelligible body and my tricky mind for clarity. Koen’s presence is cumbersome, and I feel like I’m stuffed too tight by him, but I am experiencing a stunningly quiet moment. No anxiety. No choking dread of what’s to come. “I’m usually . . . Well, it’s been a bit draining, finding out that I’m a hybrid. But right now, I’m not afraid at all.”
“That’s because I’m Alpha. We bring calm and order.”
“But I don’t feel the same with Lowe.”
He quickly discounts it. “Don’t read too much into that. It’s not a sign of anything.”
“But . . .” Why am I even pushing back? He just gave me an out. “Okay. Well, then, since this is clearly one of those unrequited lust situations we, um, all have to deal with sometimes . . .”
“Yes?” He seems amused. Like he knows something I don’t. Shouldn’t he feel despondent and rejected?
“You’re my closest friend’s husb— mate’s closest friend. And I’d love to get along with you. So maybe we could be, you know, friends.”
“What about polite acquaintances?” he counters.
I cannot tell whether he’s serious, so I nod. “Deal. And you may quietly pine after me, if you must.”
He exhales a rough, quiet laugh. It mostly sits around the edges of his eyes, but it envelops me all the same. “Thank you.” He doesn’t seem too devastated. Or maybe he’s just the type to find humor in every situation. It’s what Misery and I used to do whenever things went to shit, which was always: laugh about them. Watch them go to shit even harder. Become hysterical, but in a diverting way.
That’s still who I am. Misery may be settled, overflowing with belonging, but I’m a fucking disaster. “You wouldn’t want me anyway, if it weren’t for the whole biology thing. I’m a mess,” I say, subdued, barely audible.
He hears me, though. “Oh, yeah. You are.”
