Page 79 of Mate
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I laugh again. This time he smiles, too.
Until I add, “He seemed so lucid. And then, all of a sudden, he was saying all this weird shit, and it wasn’t . . . He didn’t sound normal.”
Koen reaches up, long fingers combing through my hair. Pressing against my scalp. The warmth of his touch has my eyelids fluttering closed. “It wasn’t normal. But I won’t insult your intelligence and tell you that he was talking gibberish. This is bad, Serena.”
Of course it is. “Because of Constantine?”
“Among the rest.” A sigh. His fingertips massage the skin at the back of my head. “Yeah.”
“Can you tell me who he is?”
“He was a Were. About two decades ago, he was directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of Weres and Humans in the Northwest.”
I clench my fists so hard, my nails leave imprints in my palms. “And now he’s back.”
“He’sdead.”
“Could reports of his passing have been greatly exaggerated?”
“I ripped his heart out of his chest, chewed it for half a minute, and then spit it into the ocean.”
I nod slowly. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”
Koen’s mouth twitches. “Constantine’s dead, no doubt about it. But he was the leader of a very destructive group.”
“Another Alpha?”
“Nothing like that. But some considered him a prophet.”
I chew on my lower lip, mulling it over. “I didn’t know Weres have cults.”
“Everybody has cults. They’re the weeds of sentient civilization. And Constantine’s was the worst of them, because . . .” He shakes his head and turns back to where his seconds are idling, waiting for him. He’s borrowing precious time, just to explain shit to me. “Constantine’s dead. But his right hands . . . Our understanding of their power structure may have been incomplete.”
“The boy who killed himself . . . ?”
“He was in his late teens. Too young to have been part of the original cult. I doubt he ever met Constantine.”
“Could he be a relative of mine?”
Koen sighs like he’s been wondering the same. “We have the boy’s body,” he says evenly. “Lots of DNA to compare with yours, and we are already on it.”
“And Constantine?”
“I . . .” He shakes his head, at a loss for words, and in this moment— when he looks as confused as I feel, when he chooses to share his lack of understanding with me, I think I love him. Just a little bit.
“Okay.” I swallow. Glance into the distance, at the ocean waves crashing into the shore. The glow of the last few sunrays.
“Clearly, they think you are connected to them. Most likely, you are somehow related to one of their former members. You’re very high profile, and if they’re rebuilding, they’ll want you back.”
Right. “I might be the Eva person he was talking about.” The prospect is disorienting. Makes me sick to my stomach.
Koen’s hand shifts to my cheek. “Look at me.”
I do. His eyes are dark and steady. Make me forget what led us here, and what’s to come.
“Your name doesn’t fucking matter. You are my killer. Okay?”
