Page 12 of Mate

He’s going to take her lies and peel them off one by one. Then he’ll force her to show him what’s underneath.

M Y PERFECTLY REASONABLE PLAN, AIMED AT PREVENTING the slaughter of a very cute child who once pointed at a drawing of an antelope and asked me if it was a “duocorn,” is received less than marvelously.

The protests are so vehement, I cannot help wondering whether they misheard me.

Maybe they think I’m planning to hijack an SUV and run over the mother of newborn kittens?

It would explain the full-throttle stream of objections, which includes words like “unacceptable” (Lowe), “death sentence” (Saul), “terrible idea” (Alex), “must be the Human half speaking, ’cause this sounds crazy” (Amanda), and “this feels wrong on so many levels, some of which must be legal ” (Jorma), as well as an additional assortment of grunts and protests.

Misery, who’s taking to being an Alpha’s mate a little too well, commands me to “come to bed in the Southwest right now. Without dinner. ”

“Wrong meal, Misery. Also, I don’t take orders from the chick who once gave me toenail fungus.”

“Shut up. Acknowledge me as your Alpha!”

“Love, we’ve been over this,” Lowe murmurs, patting her knee. “It’s not how it works.”

“And bring me gifts of gold, frankincense, and peanut butter!”

“Misery, I’ve seen you flick boogers at passersby.”

“I was a child .”

“You were seventeen .”

But she won’t stop protesting, and snarls that I’m “too valuable, too important, too loved” to be used as bait. God. What an inconvenient time for her to finally get in touch with her emotions.

“I’m not suicidal,” I tell everyone, “nor am I suggesting I walk unarmed into Vampyre headquarters. We can safely arrange to— ” I stop to hide a yawn in my palm, and that’s when Koen declares the meeting over and stands.

“I’m taking her to bed.” It speaks to his authority that not a single eyebrow lifts.

My abused feet make contact with the floor, and I grit my teeth. Koen instantly picks me up, one strong arm snaked around my rib cage as he presses me to his side, toes dangling a few inches from the ground.

It’s undignified. And pathetically befits my status in life.

“Once again, I am capable of walking,” I murmur against his shoulder. His beard bristles against the tender skin of my temple, ticklish but pleasant. He runs much warmer than me. The wonders of genetics not split between species with wildly different baseline temperatures.

“I heard rumors but dared not believe them.” He walks through the first door on the right. There is a bit of shuffling me in his arms, then he pulls back the covers and deposits me on a soft mattress, between sheets that smell like lavender. “Show me tomorrow, after your soles have healed.”

“It’ll be the performance of a lifetime.” I shiver at the sudden chill and pull the hem of his hoodie down my bare thighs.

I feel, once again, that something about Koen. How imposing he is. The kind of menacing that colors the air around him for miles. It comes not from height and muscles, but from something else, something undefinable with Human words— the only ones I have.

Vocabulary. That’s what stands between me and understanding Koen.

Maybe with time , I tell myself.

And then reply, What time, Serena?

“You get it, right? Why I want to take the attention off Ana?”

Downstairs, he didn’t say much— just sat next to me, a quiet, dark center of intense energy.

It’s not that I want his approval, especially after he made it clear that he couldn’t care less about mine.

But the others’ opposition to my plan is not rational.

It comes from some soft place, deep within their bellies.

Misery loves me, and so does Lowe, if only for some spousal transitive property.

Being in charge, though, means constructing complex trade-offs. And Koen is nothing if not in charge .

“Yes. This is for you.” He deposits a satellite phone I’ve never seen before on the nightstand and holds my eyes disapprovingly as he plugs the charger into the outlet.

Shit. Did he try to call to warn me about Bob earlier today? I’ll never know, ’cause my phone was dead and I left it back at the cabin. Should I reiterate that I am, in fact, able to take care of battery-operated devices? “Thank you. For this.”

“You already thanked me, and I told you— not big into gratitude. Either return the favor by coming to my house and dusting the light fixtures, or shut up.”

“No, this is not about saving my life.” I sit up on my heels. “Thank you for taking my side. About Ana.”

“Is that your takeaway?” He scoffs. “I’m not taking your side, Serena.”

“Downstairs, you didn’t object.”

“I didn’t object because I don’t need to.

It’s upstanding of Lowe and the Vampyre to try to convince you not to do something idiotic.

” His eyes bore into mine and he leans forward, palms against the mattress, caging my thighs.

He’s a wall of heat, all forest scent. This close, I could easily trace all the little scars on his face.

“I’m simply going to lock you up, killer.

If I have to chain you to my fucking bed to keep you alive, I will not hesitate. ”

I refuse to cower backward. “You really are a dick.”

Well, duh , his gaze clearly states. “If you’re into self-immolation and dying, I can easily arrange it for you. No need to involve other species.”

“This is not self-immolation. It’s a strategy— putting oneself in danger in order to gain something. Taking one for the team. Like Misery did when she married Lowe.”

Koen’s eyebrows rise. “Those two are sickeningly in love. Whatever she’s taking, it’s not for the team.”

I wince. “Thank you for this highly disturbing mental image of my sister — ”

“You’re welcome.”

“— and yes, it worked out great, but she could have gotten mangled and eaten. She could be hanging out with Lowe’s gut bacteria. We all make sacrifices. Look at Lowe— he’s my age and has to take care of a whole-ass pack. You’re like, thirty-five, had much longer to grow accustomed to your role.”

His expression clouds. “I’m not thirty-five, Serena.”

I flush and scan his sculpted, complicated face.

He doesn’t look old, just like he’s been through shit.

“It’s the whole”— I lift my hand to his face, gently stroking his beard— “um, facial hair and stuff. Ages you. I could trim your hair, it’d take me ten minutes, tops. I used to do it for Misery— ”

“I’m thirty- six . Even more decrepit than you thought.”

“Oh.”

“I know. Highly disturbing that Weres are allowed to advance to such a ramshackle state.”

“That’s not what I— ”

“But rest assured, killer, that I am not so enfeebled that I won’t tie you up in my basement if you endanger yourself.”

The thing about Koen: He is an asshole, but a reasonable one. Which means that the more unhinged his threats become, the less believable they sound. And the stronger my impulse to just laugh in his face. “But what about the martyr character arc I’ve always wanted?”

“Not on my watch. Not in my territory. Not under my protection.”

I shift higher on my knees to gain a few inches. It brings our noses in touching range. “Koen, you know it’s a good idea.”

“If by good idea you mean bullshit. The problem with your plan, and I’m using that word generously, is that you do not have the resources to pull it off.”

“Then help me .” I try to wrap my hand around his wrist, but my fingers don’t meet.

“You care about Ana just as much as I do. What if— what if I stay in the Northwest? Where’s your Den?

Olympia? Take me there. Parade me around.

We’ll make it so easy for the Vampyres to find me, they won’t even investigate Ana’s whereabouts.

They’ll come for me, your patrols will capture them, and Owen will gain control of the council. Please. At least consider it.”

He straightens abruptly, freeing himself from my grip with no effort.

A small shudder licks up my spine, and the way he looked at me earlier, the weight of his eyes on my bared body, it all flashes through me like a bolt.

For a moment I am— I don’t know. Eager. Uneasy.

Heated. Full. Empty. Heavy. Good, but bad. I don’t know.

I don’t know what I am or how I feel, because my stupid body isn’t mine anymore, and there seems to be no one like me in the whole damn world.

“You need food,” he says, heading for the door. “I’ll have Saul bring you something.”

My stomach rolls in vehement, impolite denial. “I’m not hungry.”

Koen folds his arms. Inspects me like he has a medical degree and I’m at my yearly checkup. “You’re not thirsty, either. Unusual, for a Were.”

“I’m only half Were.”

“You are.” It’s disquieting, frankly. The way he sees through the layers of bullcrap I painstakingly apply to my skin every day. “Maybe we could hunt together. Find some game. Fill that belly of yours.” His eyes lower to my stomach, and I’m suddenly hot.

“I told you. I can’t shift right now.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot that you’re . . . not very powerful.” He says it— not very powerful — in a deep, rumbly voice, making it clear that he thinks I’m a load of dung posing as a person. “Moon too small?”

I nod.

“Can’t wait for the full moon, then. I’d love to see your wolf form.

” He says it suggestively, but not in the try-hard way of a third date dropping hints that they’ve been wondering about the view from my apartment.

This is a purely intellectual pursuit on his part: I’d love to read that article on micro-dosing .

I’d love to snorkel in the coral reef, if the opportunity were to arise.

I’d love to catch you in a lie. Still, something twisted in my brain registers it as inappropriate and dirty and disturbing and glorious and . . .

I have seen Koen’s wolf form. The glossy black fur that reminds me of his hair.

The large paws. That white tuft right on his chest, above the spot where his heart beats.

The size of him. He is very much Koen at a level I cannot put in words.

He could be standing next to a dozen identical animals, and I’d still be able to single him out.

God, am I about to use the word aura ?

“In the meantime, I’ll have Saul bring you food. Since you look so gaunt.”

“I do not .”

“Right. Picture of health.”

I grin. “No need to mince your words. Just say that I’m fugly, call it a day, and— ”

“Serena,” he growls. His stare, the dull black of his eyes, is abrasive. Sands me down to the skeleton. “Sleep. When you wake up, I’m taking you back to the Southwest.”

“What?” No. No. That’s where Ana is. “Please, don’t. Just think about it— ”

“If you keep lying to me, I can’t properly protect you. And if I can’t protect you, I won’t keep you around.”

“I’m not— Which lie?”

He snorts softly. “You tell that many?”

“I . . .” I fidget with the sleeve of my hoodie. “I lie a lot.”

“You shouldn’t. Telling the truth can be therapeutic.”

I narrow my eyes. “You know what else can be therapeutic?”

“Punching me in the nuts?”

That’s exactly what I was going to say. “How did you know I— ”

“You’re pretty fucking predictable.” He’s leaving again, and I hate him. So much. Especially when I have no choice but to yell after him, “Fine.”

He doesn’t stop.

“I’ll tell the truth.”

Keeps walking.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to admit it.

“I haven’t been able to shift in months.”