Page 113 of Mate
“Stay calm,” he orders. “She’s heavily sedated, out of precaution. Now, Eva, you have two choices. I can finish the job.” The way the older man waves the scalpel quickly clarifies what that would entail. “Or you can be quiet. Which one shall it be? The first one?”
I furiously shake my head.
“I thought so. Jess, are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” she mutters. Her blood overpowers every other scent in the room.
“Okay. Eva, I’m going to slowly take my hand off your mouth. Before you do anything stupid, remember that every action has consequences.”
I nod, sick to my stomach at the sight of Layla. “What did you give her? Is she— ”
“She’ll be fine, provided that you stay quiet,” the man says from behind me, his breath humid against my ear. “We know this is distressing, but you gave us no other choice.”
I swallow a hysterical laugh. “Who the hell are you?”
“The same as you, Eva,” Jess says. “We are people who were denied their families. And now we’re going home.”
“I have no idea what you . . .”
I never get around to the end of the sentence. Because the man presses a cloth with a sweet, chemical scent against my mouth, and that’s the last thing I remember.
THIS AIN’T MY FIRST RODEO— AND BY RODEO, OF COURSE, I MEANkidnapping. Still, what I learned in my previous experiences might not come in too handy.
I realize it when I wake up at some unidentified point later in the day, feeling hungover and flattened by an oxcart. My stomach tries to remind me that our usual post-drugs, post-beating routine tends to involve several bouts of vomiting, but I ignore it. My head pounds, but all my limbs are still attached. I’m bruised but not bleeding.
Outside, an incessant rain washes away all other noises.
My muscles shake as I sit up in bed to take in my surroundings. I’m in yet another cabin— two-storied, cozy, sandwiched between a pond and a pine forest. Late morning light filters in from the window, which is notable for its lack of bars. That alone would give me pause, but what really clues me in that this is a clear case of Not Like Other Abductions is the door to my bedroom, which is wide open.
No guard.
I consider climbing down the window. I could run south for the next four to five weeks and stop only when I enter Southwest territory and Misery welcomes me with her infamously cold, stiff embrace. Problem is, it’s prisoners who run away. And I might not be one.
So I make my way down the creaky yet sturdy stairs.
“Eva.” A slight Were woman glances up from a thick book, welcoming me with a warm smile. She has long straight hair,silver gray all over, but a look at the taut skin of her face tells me she must not even be forty yet. When she stands, her simple, flowy dress drapes down her body in waves of green.Bet you whatever that she has an herb garden in the back, a voice says in my head. “Good morning, dear. What would you like to drink?” She glides toward me, all witchy cottage-core vibes. My metabolism must still be working through the drugs, because when she briefly wraps her arms around me, I donotviolently shove her away. “Anything to eat?”
“Um. No, thanks.”
“Are you certain?”
Is this for real? “You already drugged me once. I’m just going to assume that everything you offer me is roofied, if that’s okay with you.”
The woman sighs, looking remorseful. “You’ll have to forgive us. We usually have better manners than this. And please, let me reassure you that you’re not our captive. There are vehicles at your disposal if you wish to leave. All we wanted was an opportunity to speak candidly with you. We attempted to bring you here without too much fuss, but the Alpha of the Northwest . . . he is very protective of you. I hope that the unfortunate methods to which we resorted will not influence the tenor of our future acquaintance.”
I’m not sure what this lady’s grasp of sarcasm is, so I resist the impulse to tell her that it’sNo big deal. All water under the bridge. Instead, I note the frequent use ofweand glance around. We are alone in the kitchen, but through an open doorway I can see the living room, and three Human women sitting on the velvet couch. They seem to range from their late teens to early fifties. The button shape of their noses and their auburn hair suggest that they’re likely related.
They whisper feverishly at each other and watch me with wide, awestruck grins. Clearly, they’re guzzling the Kool-Aid. It’sall I can do to biteI’m a hybrid and your murderous prophet dude had shit to do with random genetic changes that lead to interspecies reproductive compatibilityoff my tongue. “In that case, I’ll be heading home now.”
“You are welcome to do so— ”
I whirl around.
“— but I thought you might want to visit with me. I am, after all, the only family you have left.”
It’s so fucking manipulative, I’m disappointed in myself for falling for it. Nevertheless, I halt. Even as the not-rotten part of my brain whispers,Keep going, Serena. Keep. Fucking. Going.
When I turn back to the woman, she doesn’t hide her smugness. “My mother was Human,” I hiss, just to get ahead ofthatspecific turd of bullshit.
