Page 160 of Mate
“Wrong?”
He nods. “I think it does affect me. I think you make me a better leader.” His smile widens. “You make my world better, for sure. And mate or not, I wouldn’t love you half as much if you weren’t the kind of person who deserves it.”
My own words, thrown back at me, and it’s like my entire life reorients. The breeze, the trees, the grass, the moss, the seals, the waves— they stop, immobile, for a fraction of a moment. Then they resume blowing, rustling, swishing, whispering, splashing, lapping, but in a slightly, enormously different way.
“Does it mean that . . . ?”
He nods.
“We can . . . ?”
“If you want to.”
“If I— ” My laugh is thick. Watery. “IfIwant to? Doyouwant to?”
He laughs, too. “Let me think about it.”
I lean forward and bite him on the jaw, hard. I feel his smile grow between my teeth. “So we can just . . . stay here? In this cabin? And I’ll find some job? And you’ll do your Alpha stuff? And we’ll . . . we’ll go for runs together? And be boring?”
“That sounds like a dream, actually.”
“And I’ll cook? And we’ll see Misery and Lowe? And you’ll build me more chairs and let me decorate the cabin?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“And we’ll have Twinkles as our wolf dog who sometimes sleeps on our bed?”
“Is that why I nearly walked into a water bowl earlier?”
I nod. Burrow into him.
He sighs. Tightens his hold on me. “Such a fucking nuisance.”
I wonder why it took me until this very moment to realize that it’s been his way of sayingI love youall along.
EPILOGUE
HE MANAGES TO HOLD IT TOGETHER FOR A LITTLE OVER SIXweeks.
As feats go, this one is so Herculean, so strenuous, so immensely exacting, Koen is certain that it’ll make up for every single shitty thing he’s done during his wretched, questionable life. He is able to control his instincts and deny himself the one thing he wants with an all-consuming, ferocious, overwhelming passion. That, if nothing else, will guarantee him a place in his particular brand of Were heaven.
Which, he’s come to realize, requires only one single thing: Serena.
“ARE YOU BORED YET?” SHE ASKS HIM A MONTH OR SO AFTER MOVINGin for good. It’s an absurd question. And yet, in a rational, detached sort of way, Koen understands what she’s getting at.
They had a rocky start. The near murders and the kidnappings and that other bullshit. The medical scares. The fact that he had to push her away over and over, even as keeping his distance tore him apart. Bottom line, their first few months were very eventful. Compared to all that, the last few weeks have been strikingly low stakes.
They wake up in the morning. He leaves for his job. She does hers— remote, for Karolina, something about money or stocks that reminds Koen every day how much smarter than him she is and fills him with glowing, besotted pride. He returns home. The end.
Taken at face value, it does seem boring. But there’s so much hidden in the crevices of their daily rhythm, Koen can’t imagine ever finding his time spent with her anything less than thrilling. Not that he’d be caught dead admitting it to anyone, but he’s just fucking . . . enamored, that’s the word. The way she needs to be coaxed out of bed with tea and kisses in the morning. Her unabashed joy at discovering every corner of their territory. The fact that every mundane little action feels new and shimmery and magic when she’s around.
And yeah, it’s ordinary stuff. Boring, he supposes. She sits in his shop doing her crosswords while he builds her more goddamned chairs. She makes him buy her a TV and forces him to watch stupid Human movies she grew up with, and it’s just not plausible, that the twins came back from camp having switched places and the parents didnotimmediately figure it out from their scents. She chatters and mumbles to herself and tells him things, all sorts of things, funny and serious, big and small, and the more she talks, the more he wants to do nothing but listen to her. She asks him to play the piano for her, so he finds some Bach sheet music. She wants to go on runs, and that’s when he takes her to his favorite places, deep in the belly of the forest. She cooks, and that’s— he’s so fucking lucky. Especially because when she doesn’t feel like it, when he hunts small game for her and drops it by her feet, tail wagging and tongue lolling out expectantly, she also acts happy and satisfied and pleased with him. Alpha instinct doesn’t normally concern itself with external approval, but Serena . . . she feels like another part of him.
His heart, in another body.
“Areyoubored?” he asks her, instead of replying. They’re on the porch, and she’s brushing the wolf dog with some de- shedding tool she bought online. He now sports a collar, equipped with a heart-shaped charm that sparklingly proclaims:Twinkles. Koen keeps expecting to see betrayal in the beast’s eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to have been domesticated and bedazzled.
Koen can relate.
