Page 12 of Mate
“Hey.” My chin juts out. “Ican say it.Youshouldn’t.”
“Serena, you’re a half-Human Were who admits to being a serial liar, doesn’t know how electricity works, and is undoubtedly swimming in complex PTSD. Believe me, atoddlercan say it.”
I really want to be indignant, but a laugh snorts out of me all on its own. And then Koen is standing, heading for the door, and there’s once again a weight in my stomach, one that seems to get heavier just because he’s leaving, and heavier still because I’d like him to stay for a second longer.
And then the understanding rolls into me, as inexorable as a little earthquake, that— this is it. The rest of my life. And maybe I could slowly, cautiously, start living it.
“You know,” I say when he opens the door and I’m brusquely reminded that a world exists outside the walls of this room. “I actually think that maybe I could . . .”
He looks at me over his shoulder.
“Just.” My belly feels warm. “You seem . . . Misery and Ana love you, which means that you’re a nice guy. We could maybe,um, try to hang out sometime? Coffee, maybe. Or . . . I’m not sure what you guys do when you go out, but . . . The thing is, I know you very little, but so far, I kind of like you.”
NoHey, I’d love to go on a date with youwas ever uttered more clumsily, but it’s okay. Because Koen’s eyes soften with amusement, and indulgence, and maybe some affection, too.
That’s what makes his words feel like a razor-sharp knife sliding between my ribs.
“I meant what I said, killer. This mate thing is about fucking. The part of me that matters isn’t interested in you. Like me, or don’t,” he says kindly. “I really couldn’t care less.”
CHAPTER 3
She expects little and is not easily offended. It makes pushing her away frustratingly hard.
Present day
KOEN ALEXANDER, THE FERAL ALPHA OF THE MOST DANGEROUSpack on the continent, undisputed ruler in a wild territory known for its exceptional bloodthirst, listens to Human classical music while driving.
I didnotsee that coming.
And yet here he is. Post Vampyre slaughtering, blissfully unaffected as he chauffeurs me back to the Southwest pack. Lightly tapping his long fingers against the steering wheel to keep rhythm like a connoisseur. Would it be insulting to openly manifest my shock? Do I care about offending Koen?
Yes. Andyes, since I’ll be alone with him in this car for the next few hours. At the mercy he may not have.
“Is this Bach?” I ask, with no real clue what Bach sounds like. In my previous life, back when I was a Human financial reporter whose idea of a mightily stressful time included judging the ripeness of watermelons or having to sneeze while driving, I gravitated toward pop.
“Why didn’t you shift?” Koen asks instead of answering. His eyes never leave the road ahead.
“Sorry?”
“Why didn’t you shift to wolf form to run from Bob?”
“Right. WhoisBob anyway?”
The look he gives me lasts a quarter of a second but perfectly relays what Koen thinks about people who answer his questions with more questions. How lovely, to learn that his patience and willingness to filter himself have not increased in the weeks since he shuttled me to the cabin. I fidget with the sleeves of the extra-large hoodie he lent me, and for the tenth time since I got in the car, I tell myself to forget the way he stared at my naked chest in the woods.
It was a ruse. To distract the Vampyre. To save my life. He was never going to harm me, and I have zero reasons to be afraid of him.
Well, I haveone: he’s objectively terrifying.
“I can’t shift when the moon is this small,” I tell him.
It’s the way it works with Weres: when the moon is fat and round in the sky, we can barely resist its call and need all our self-control to avoid shifting to wolf form. The feeling of something awakening inside me, clawing to be let out once a month, always during the same lunar phase— that’s what first clued me in that maybe I wasn’t all that Human, after all.
Conversely, when the moon is weak, only highly powerful and dominant Weres can shift. I’m neither, and my ineptitude should be plenty believable to Koen.
If only.
“And yet,” he muses in his deep voice, “back when I first met you, you could shift at will.”
