Page 77 of Mate
It is, demonstrably, the wrong thing to say to the Alpha of a territory he just breached. So wrong, it bothers even me. “Excuse me?” Koen asks mildly.
And that poor boy— he’s finally displaying some common sense, because he’s about to shit himself. But to his credit, even as he shakes like a leaf, he doesn’t back down. “You want her, but you are not worthy of her.”
“Man, you don’t know me. I think I bring a lot to the table.”
“Like several moldy unicorn waffles,” I mutter. In response, Koen playfully drums his fingertips over my stomach.
“He cannot keep you here, Eva,” the boy tells me. “I told them that there was no need to take you. No need for blood. I promised them that if you knew we were waiting for you, you would come.”
“Bro, she’s not going anywhere.”
“She is your superior in every way. You cannot speak for her, Koen Alexander.”
“He’s right, though,” I say. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Not all is lost, though,” Koen says, suddenly pushing me half behind his body. His posture switches— protective to predatory. “Serena is off-limits, but you may still have a playdate with me.”
“Eva,” the boy pleads, eyes never leaving mine. “Do you not remember us? Have you not been told the stories? You were hurt greatly, if so.” His smile folds into something else. Something sad. “Will you not join me?”
“I have no idea who you are. And since you’re calling me by the wrong name, I think that’s mutual.”
His shoulders slump. It’s like I cut the string that held him up. “If you won’t come with me, then I was wrong. And if I was wrong, before I leave, I will have to pay the price.”
“Good for you that you won’t be going anywhere, then,” Koen says.
“It was lovely to stand this close to you, Eva. To feel the same breeze and the same grass. The flesh will be reborn.” The boy bows his head. His attention shifts fully to Koen. “KoenAlexander. In another universe, one not as perfect as this one, I would have called you Alpha.”
“What a daunting threat,” Koen says, moving forward. When the boy begins to retreat, he sighs.
“We are many. And we have learned from past mistakes.”
“Sure.”
“What about you, Koen Alexander? Are you your parents’ son?”
Koen freezes. His shoulders go rigid. “Boy, I’m faster than you, and a hell of a lot stronger. If you run, I will catch you within one hundred feet, and I’ll probably end up hurting you.”
“You will pay for what you did. And Constantine will see you shortly.”
To me, it all sounds like nonsense. But I can smell Koen’s rage. It runs so deep, I have to make the conscious choice not to step away from him. “Constantine is dead,” he spits out.
“That he is,” the boy agrees with his widest smile yet, a grin of undiluted joy, and I realize that my initial assessment of his sanity may have been incorrect. Then it all happens so quickly, my glitchy, shocked brain can barely register the order of it.
Koen was right: heismuch faster, and hecouldcatch the boy in one hundred feet. Except, he doesn’t have one hundred feet. Because the Were doesn’t run away toward the forest. Instead he chooses the opposite direction, and I don’t understand—
Koen’s “Fuck” is muffled by the waves lapping onto the shore
— where does the Were think he’s going—
as Koen sprints to catch him
— that’s not where he came from—
or maybe to kill him
— not the right path—
and why is he not slowing down, he’s almost at the edge of the cliff, he can’t
