Page 82 of Mate
“It’s fine. I just need to— ” I can’t bear his gaze on me. I turn away and spot my eyes in the mirror once again. They’re even worse than before, swallowed by a rising tide of dark green, and . . . “Oh my God,” I whisper, reaching up to touch them, but Koen traps both my wrists against the small of my back. He slides his other arm around my chest, plastering me to him.
“Your claws are out, and you’realreadybleeding. You need to stay still.”
“My eyes— ”
“It’s okay.”
“But they— ”
“Serena.” That Alpha voice. “Calm down.”
I do. For about a second. Then panic rises, higher, stronger. “That’s not normal.”
“Stop looking at them. Deep breaths.”
“I can’t. What is happening?”
“Don’t look at them.”
Tears slide down my face. I’m about to explode. “But why are they— ”
Koen’s fist darts out to punch the mirror, shattering my reflection into a thousand small shards. “Here. Now they’re not doing that anymore.” His palm rests against my forehead. “You’re burning up. This is not the first time, is it?”
Yes. No. I don’t know.
“Answer me.”
“N- no.”
“Good girl. Is it a fever?”
I nod, and the simple gesture makes me dizzy. I sink into Koen’s body even more. There is no way to describe the fabric of his clothes other thanoffensive. I need themoff.
“Cold baths work to bring it down?”
“Yes.”
He glances at the almost-full tub. A second later I’m submerged in water. Distantly, I register some surprise. Because Koen gets in with me, clothes and all, and pulls me between his spread legs.
The sudden icy cold feels like unicorns and kittens building a pillow fort on a pink cloud, then snacking on a tub of frosting. “Better?” Koen asks.
I nod. The soft weight of his lips presses against my temple.
“Anything else you do?”
I shake my head. Open my mouth to tell Koen that in a second the shock will knock me out, and I’ll wake up shivering in a couple of hours. That he should let go of me. That people in my condition can harm those around them. But one of his hands splays wide on my abdomen, and the other curves around my inner thigh, and even though this might be the most shameful moment of my entire life, I’m too tired and comfortable to do anything but fall asleep.
CHAPTER 21
No.
IWAKE UP TO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PIANO MUSIC I’VE EVER heard.
Not that it means much, given my pathological inability to listen to anything without a techno beat, but this . . . it’sspectacular. Vaguely familiar. Probably classical. Elegant but intimate. Being awakened by any sort of loud noise is down there with eating paint chips in my list of favorite things, but this is so gentle and understated, I want to make it my forever alarm.
My eyes flutter open of their own volition, and I realize that I’m in Koen’s bedroom, again. Stealing his bed, again. Unable to recall how I ended up here,again. My last memories are blurred. Working on a letter. Yawning till my eyes were a constant stream of tears. Sliding under the covers. I must have slept in, judging from the early afternoon light filtering inside.
Which explains the wake- up call.
