Page 7 of Mate
“Not yet.”
Lowe nods, and I get my first hint that whatever Koen wants from me, it’s probably a bit more serious thanMay I ask about your hybrid diet and musculoskeletal system and whether you molt in the fall?
“Where’s Misery?” I ask, suddenly terrified. “And Ana?”
“They’re fine. Both downstairs.” Lowe pauses. “Do you want Misery here?”
“I . . .” Yes. Kind of. But also, I do miss being a functioning adult who can operate without her Vampyre security blanket. “Nah.”
Lowe turns to Koen. “You really want to tell her now?”
“Might as well.”
The two men stand, silent, staring— Lowe like I’m a wounded kitten he’s trying to corner for an injection, and Koen . . . I can’t get a good read on him, which might account for how alarming I find him.
Or it could be the scars. The three parallel claw marks on his face, for instance. The one in the middle is the longest: itstarts up in his forehead, dissects his brow, and continues down his cheek in a thin, straight line. He also has small ones on his upper lip, at the base of his jaw, past his collarbone. But none are hungry or red or new. None suggest that he’s itching for a fight.
He’s big, too— as in,big. Just a couple of inches taller than Lowe, but approximately ninety times more intimidating.It’s because Lowe feels domesticated, a wise, instinctual voice explains from the recesses of my skull.Lowe can, and will, control and pace himself. Koen is a wild card. Koen is raw. Koen will do whatever the hell he—
“You are my mate,” he says. With little inflection.
So little, I must have misheard. I learned it back in college. Linguistics elective, junior year.The rhythmic patterns of language contribute to listening comprehension.“Excuse me?”
“You and the Vampyre are close, right?” he asks, full of that calm that borders on indifference. Is he making fun of me? “She explained what a mate is?”
Slowly, I nod.
“What Misery is to Lowe, you are to me.”
Oh.
Oh?
Oh. “Is this a, um . . . terminal diagnosis?”
His lips twitch. “No cure, I’m afraid.”
“I see.” I clear my throat. “Well, this relationship sure escalated quickly.”
His words surprised me, but the way the corners of his eyes crease in amusement shocks me tenfold. His laugh is a deep, warm chuckle that makes my heart stumble. “You have no idea, kid.”
I cross my arms. “Should you be calling me ‘kid,’ given the situation?”
“I’m not married to it. What would you prefer?”
“Well, there’s always my actual name. But if you insist on a nickname, I’d prefer something with a bit more . . .”
“More?”
“More teeth.”
His eyebrow rises. “Root canal?”
“No. Come on, you know what I mean. Something that inspires fear.”
“Real estate market crash.”
“Okay, maybe less fear and more . . . awe. Warrior-like.”
