Page 110 of Mate
I smile. He does, too, if only with his eyes. The discussion winds down, and Saul and Amanda stare at us, seeing who knows what. “Good morning.” Koen cheers in their direction with his mug. “I am overjoyed that you decided to deal with this pressing issue in my home.”
Amanda waves a forkful at him. “You can disapprove all you want, Alpha, but the matter is not yet settled.”
“Nevertheless, we will proceed with our day. Unless anyone has other important, fully theoretical matters to add to the agenda?”
“Actually.” I steeple my hands. “I’ve been wondering about something for a while. We are Weres, right?”
Encouraging nods.
“But why are we part wolves? Why are there no werebutterflies, or werecrabs? What’s so special aboutwolves?”
Three pairs of eyes blink at me. Then Saul winces. “That’s just . . . weird, Serena.”
“How is it weirder than the moon thing?”
Amanda stands, grimacing like her stomach and her soul are equally upset. “Don’t. Just, don’t.”
“Wait. You guys, tell me how a Were on the moon is any more plausible than . . .”
But they’re gone.
I turn to Koen, who’s setting his mug down. He shakes his head, an expression that could be mockorreal disappointment on his face, and follows his seconds outside.
KOEN NEEDS TO DRIVE BACK TO THE BORDER TO OVERSEE THE EXTRADITIONof one of the Vampyres to Owen’s team but decides to drop me off at Layla’s on the way. Saul tails us in his car, listening to dubstep so loudly, Koen mutters something about brain tumors growing in his auditory cortex.
I should introduce Saul to Misery. Maybe meeting someone with the same terrible taste in music is the mirror she needs to rethink some life choices.
“I need a minute with you, before you go in,” Koen tells me, parking in front of Sem’s office.
I don’t like how grave and serious he sounds, stripped of the usual gruff, irascible facade. Then again, we have much to discuss. Preferably, while I’m not squirming in his lap. Last night was a moment out of time, but we’re back in it.
“Me too. I wanted to— ”
“Not here.”
“Oh?” I bite into my thumbnail.
“It’s a very small space, Serena, and you are . . . Your scent destroys my focus. It’s better if we’re not too alone.”
He leads me to the green area behind the building, past the playhouse that must have been installed for Sem’s youngest patients. The breeze is lovely in my hair. I force myself to enjoy the fresh air, the faint scents of salt and moss, and not to dwell on the fact that the conversation about to happen is a losing game. By my side, Koen is silent. I pick a white bench that’s still covered in droplets of dew and point at the spot next to me, but Koen ignores it. Instead he stands, back to the east, the rising sun a halo around his head.
He is so handsome, I have to close my eyes against it.
And I like him so much, I’m going to have to close my heart, too.
But not yet.
“Can I . . . Is it okay if I start?” I ask. “I don’t want to . . . It’s important to me that I get to say this.”
In lieu of a reply, he drops down. Crouches till we’re eye to eye. And . . .
I reallyamabsolutely gone over this man. Fully, irreparably lost.
“Two nights ago, and maybe even last night . . . I feel like I pressured you. I put you in the position of having to take care of me. Forced you to break a promise you made to your pack. And . . .”
“Serena.” He sighs. “You think I didn’t want it?”
“The thing is, I grew up withverylittle control of my life, of my choices, of my body, and maybe because of that, I’ve thought about things like consent and agency a lot. And . . .”
