Page 23 of Mate
“She’s fine,” Koen orders, returning to the room with something in his hand. “Stop fussing.”
It’s an odd thing to say, considering that it’s followed by him kneeling in front of me and taking the heel of one of my feet in his palm. He runs a damp washcloth all over the little abrasions the forest floor left on my skin, the ones that are already starting to heal. The warmth feels so indecently good, I swallow a moan.
“You’re fine. Aren’t you, killer?” he asks, holding my eyes.
I nod, a little breathless.
“You need a bed and some rest,” Saul continues, undeterred.
“And a hot meal,” Amanda adds. “Should I— ”
“She’s an adult Were who doesn’t require coddling,” Koen interrupts. Once again, a bit jarring to hear, especially as he rolls thick, soft socks up my shins. They reach just below my knees. I might just go to my deathbed wearing them.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t worry about her,” Amanda points out.
“Last week Colin came back from a sweep with his arm nearly hanging off, and you all laughed in his face.”
“As is appropriate when one loses a fight against a bear,” Jorma says, straight-faced.
Saul seems to agree. “I’d forgotten that you’d declared it against the law to be excellent to each other, Koen.”
“Make sure you write it down, then.”
“Once again, if we had an HR department, they would be so busy dealing with . . .” Saul’s phone pings. He trails off to read a message, and when he looks up, he’s all business. “Alpha, Lowe is ready to talk.”
Koen nods. I expect him to walk out to take the call, but Amanda fiddles with a cable, and a moment later a flat screen I hadn’t noticed slowly whirs to life.
Several people appear, all of them known to me from my time in the Southwest. There’s Lowe, of course. The redheaded second whose name has clearly rotted out of my mind. Alex, the IT guy who taught me how to playGrand Theft Auto. And . . .
“Look who ran out of toilet paper and decided to rejoin civilization,” Misery says with a wide smile. Her pale elfin face is as close as I’ll ever get to having a home. I guess it’s fitting, then, how foreign she looks of late.
She stopped bothering with contacts or filing her canines, which fills me with joy. For the first time in her life, she’s happy,protected, and invested in the world around her.Are you jealous of her relationship with Lowe?Amanda once asked me, and I get why she’d think that. Growing up, it used to be Misery and me— just the two of us, hand in hand against the world. Now it’s Misery and Lowe and the cute child she’s somehow step-mommying despite having no business being left alone with someone whose fontanelles have barely closed. And yes, me too. Somewhere out yonder. In the periphery.
But I told Amanda that I wasn’t, and it’s the truth. I don’t think I’m capable of jealousy. It’s a feeling that requires the assumption that something is due, and I never developed that. Years in an orphanage, then more years as the Collateral’s baby doll, will beat the possessiveness out of anyone.
Still, change requires adjustment— and secrets require distance. When I realized that I needed to step away, I mixed truth and lies, said I was overstimulated, and asked for an isolated place to acclimatize to my Were senses. Misery and Lowe didn’t love the idea of me leaving the Southwest, but they believed the tale I spun.
Want to know whodidn’tbelieve it? Koen. Why some guy I’d met two months earlier was better than my lifelong friend at reading through my bullshit is something I have no intention of pondering.
“Just kidding about the toilet paper,” Misery adds. “I know you people just shift into wolves and lick your own butts.”
Next to her, Lowe winces but pulls her closer. If things go to shit tomorrow, today, in five minutes, at least I can be reassured that the person I care about the most is in excellent hands. I’m genuinely happy for her.
Though maybe a little less when she tells me, “Serena, you look like shit.”
“Seriously?” I scowl. “Is no one interested in sparing my feelings?”
Misery’s and Koen’s “nope” are perfectly in unison. He takes a seat next to me, close enough for our thighs to touch, legs stretched out on the coffee table and calves crossed. The picture of relaxed boredom. “So,” he starts, “what the fuck just happened, and who do I kill?”
I refrain from pointing out the obvious:Bob the VampyreandYou already have.
Lowe sighs. “We are producing a list.”
“Nice.” Koen sounds ready to roll up his sleeves. “I’ll take the first ten names.”
“What happened up at the cabin?” Lowe asks.
“Yeah, Serena,” Misery adds. “How hard did you maul the guy who tried to come for you?”
