Page 20 of Mate
My heart plummets. He’s talking about what the geneticist revealed about hybrids having children. I have no clue how, but I’m certain of it. “No.”
His jaw shifts from side to side.
In the network’s lobby, a valet timidly approaches him. “Sir, your car is waiting outside.”
Koen’s eyebrow, the one dissected by scars, arches at an angle that clearly statesI’ve never been called Sir before, and it better not happen again. I turn my head to hide a smile, and that’s when I hear it.
“— the gall of coming here and forcing Secret Service agents to guard her. Like we won’t be first in line to get rid of her.” The man in black behind us is mumbling in his buddy’s direction. Low enough not to be overheard— if Koen and I were Humans.
But we aren’t. And the agent is apparentlythatstupid, because he continues, “Can’t believe her fucking kind.”
I spin, ready to politely request that he repeat it to my face, but Koen wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into the hard heat of his body. From the outside, it probably looks like a playful, affectionate gesture. I take it for what it is: a firm commandnot to kill.
“Not with an audience this big, at least,” he murmurs lightly against the shell of my ear. Without letting go of me, he uncoils to his full height. “Listen, bud,” he tells the men, at once easygoing and assertive.
This is Koen, being in charge, herding people, straightening spines. I wonder if the agents know he’s an Alpha. For me, it’s impossible to miss. Those eyes. His overpowering scent. How difficult it is to tell him anything approachingno. “I don’t like her kind, either. Do I think she should have come here? Fuck no.”
The agent blinks. I can almost hear his skin break into goose bumps.
“Women? They belong in the kitchen.Idon’t, though.” I can’t see Koen’s face, but the smile in his voice isbloodcurdling. “I get around. Would you like to apologize to the lady, or would you like to learn what that means?”
The man’s scent is pure terror, mixed with a drop of shame. He started shit but doesn’t want to lose face in front of his colleagues. “Is this a threat?”
“If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong.” Koen shifts me and hooks me at his side. The agent’s friend— older and clearly wiser— takes about five steps back and reaches for his weapon.
So does every other person in the lobby.
Koen ignores them all. “You have two options, shitmuncher. You can apologize to the lady this very instant, or you can wait till later to be fucked up. Your choice. And don’t worry, I won’t be disappointed either way.”
“I’m not afraid of your animals. Send them after me, and see what— ”
“Whoa.Highlyoffensive. Whatever have I done to make you think that I wouldn’t kill you myself?”
Something in Koen’s tone must alert the man that this is no joke. His throat bobs. His cheek tics. After a few seconds of angry deliberation, he hisses at me, “I’m sorry.”
My shoulders slump in relief.
“Not that hard, was it?” Koen beams. He holds out his hand, grasping the other man’s in a friendly, peacekeeping shake that lasts less than a second. “Careful, buddy. Looks like you hurt yourself.”
The man lifts his arm, puzzled to find thick red blood streaming down his pale flesh, past his wrists and into the sleeve of his suit. He seems to be unable to grasp what just happened, and I don’t blame him, because neither can I— at least, until I notice the two vertical cuts slicing his wrist. They are claw shaped. Deep. And they run parallel to the long vein in his inner arm.
In fact, they barely missed it.
“If you make any more comments about this girl over here and I find out,” Koen says, too low for anyone but the three of us to hear, “it’ll be your throat.”
I shiver. The man breathes hard, clutching his wrist to his chest.
“Show me you understood.”
He nods quickly.
“Very good. C’mon, Serena.” Koen’s arm wraps around my shoulder. “I need you to make me a sandwich.”
I let him lead me to the door, feeling as though I’m moving through water. “Koen?”
“Hmm?”
“What just happened?”
