Page 19 of Mate
Oh, boy. “I shifted to wolf form and escaped.”
“So youareable to shift?”
“I am.” Is it a lie? I’m not even sure anymore. “But it’s a new skill for me.”
“In what ways are you Human?”
“Well, my blood is red. My strength and senses acuity are somewhere in the middle between a Were and a Human’s.”
“I see. Serena, this must all be very painful to relive— thank you for sharing it with us. What about the rumors that there are others?”
“Others?”
“Other hybrids.The Herald’s article suggested that you might be one of two.”
And this,this, is the real reason I’m here. Everything else— Maddie, peace, reforms, public opinion . . . well, it all matters. But not as much as shoving the spotlight away from Ana.
That’s why I spent the last week leaning across the porcelain sink of Lowe’s bathroom, rehearsing my frown until it was flawless. When I see it furrow my brow on multiple screens, I decide that all that practice was worth it. “If there are other hybrids, I’ve never heard of them. But I’d love to meet them.”
The interviewer leans forward a little, ready to dig. I recognize the ambitious gleam in her eyes, the thrill of the chase. I was like her. I used to ask the hard questions. I wanted the truth.
Now all I want is to get this over with.
“The article that outed you,” she says, “alleged the existence of a younger female hybrid, one who lives with the Weres.”
“Oh, right. Yes.” I force a kick of understanding to spill onto my expression. “I wonder if the source was mistaken. What was said about the other Were used to be true of me when I was younger . . . Maybe that’s where the confusion originated?” I shrug cluelessly.
“The article itself did state that the source could not provide evidence on the existence of this second hybrid,” the interviewer agrees. My posture doesn’t change, but Ifeelmy muscles melt into the chair.
I had a single fucking job, and I did it. I’msoready to go home and throw up in the bathtub, but this lady is still asking questions. “. . .you’ve been staying with the Southwest pack. Do you miss living among the Humans?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, instead of a more truthfulNot at all.
The thing is, Humans have been less than outstanding to me of late. My former colleagues atThe Heraldwrote an op- ed about feeling betrayed and traumatized by the way I “deliberately misrepresented” myself “in a professional setting, no less.” A waiter from a restaurant I never even set foot inside went on record about the time I ordered a steak and promised a 40 percent tip to make it extra rare. Pete, an engineer I went onthreedates with, sold his story to a tabloid.I always suspected there was something wrong about her. She didn’t seem to enjoy what most women do.His dick, he meant. I can’t believe I’m getting internationally dragged for refusing to screw a guy who told me that I looked just like his mother.
So, yeah. Humans are on my shit list, and I don’t miss them. What I do miss is the period of my life in which the wordproblemcould apply to the printer not working.
“However,” I add, “I’m very grateful for the opportunity to spend time with Weres and learn their customs.”
“And what do you say to those who believe that hybrids such as you are a threat to society and should be eliminated?”
I smile pleasantly, like she didn’t just ask me,What’s it like when people want to watch you croak with their beady little eyes?Gotta love journalism. “They are free to believe what they like. But centuries of conflict have benefited no one except those in power. I think that the genetic bridge between the two species could be the harbinger of a better future.”
There are a few more softballs, and I spout a few more platitudes, which should get me a seven-figure aphorism book deal any day now. Once the interview ends, Koen waits for me on the side of the stage, looking as pleased as ever.
Which is not at all.
“Are you her, um, Alpha?” the interviewer asks, taking him in. She smells terrified. And aroused.
“Sure,” Koen drawls, right as I snort, “He’s more like my babysitter.”
“And she’s more like a pain in my— ”
“Let’s go,” I nearly scream, tugging at the sleeve of his plaid shirt. He’s the only person in the building not wearing business attire. I’d say he didn’t get the memo, but knowing Koen, he sent it back withI do whatever the fuck I wantscribbled all over it. In blood, most likely.
In the elevator it’s me, him, and a gaggle of Human agents standing behind us.
“Did you know?” he asks under his breath, staring ahead at the doors.
