Page 18 of Mate

Unknown number: You are now officially in charge of my sister, so be aware that if she gets so much as a skinned knee, I will fuck up your life.

I will steal your identity and ruin your credit score.

I will plant evidence of white-collar crimes on your computer.

I will take control of your webcam and film you while you’re picking your nose.

I will hack your pack directory and impersonate you and send everyone emails about how much you’d love for them to come over and snuggle with you.

I will sell your information to the dark web and clone your credit cards and make donations to pro-cancer charities in your name and if you ever buy a smart car

Unknown number :

Unknown number : Sorry. Ana stole my phone. Where was I?

T HE COARSE CARESS OF A PALM AGAINST MY CHEEK WAKES ME up, a strand of hair tucked behind my ear. My eyes flutter open and search for the dashboard clock. I napped for over three hours.

“Holy shit.”

“Told you. Sleep deprived.” Koen’s hand is gripping my headrest, so far from my face, I must have dreamed of his touch.

Which is on-brand for my recent maelstrom of psychosexual neuroses.

The fact that my stomach is not twisting and turning, even though I’ve been abhorring all forms of physical contact, is proof of it.

“Where are we?” I ask, sliding out of the car. A few hundred feet from us, past the evergreen shrubbery peppering the shoreline and a sandy beach that looks untouched by man, there’s a lake. Or . . .

I inhale once, deeply. Again. Salt. Sea. “Is that a river? The coast?”

“An estuary. If you follow the shore all the way north to the end of the inlet, that’s where the ocean starts. Follow me.”

He walks uphill, opposite to the water. I linger for a moment, listening to the seagulls soaring overhead and squinting at the splashes of the dolphins— no, seals — in the distance. Then I hurry after him. “Are we in the Den?”

“Yes. Olympia, Humans call it.”

I glance around, taking advantage of the slight elevation of the terrain.

We’re on top of a rolling hill, and below us is what looks like— no, it is a city.

It sprawls for miles, gently following the curves of the river, spilling farther inland.

There are clusters of buildings, roads, electric poles, bridges.

It could house thousands and thousands of people. But it’s also disarmingly . . .

“Horizontal,” I murmur.

Koen’s expression is quizzical.

“So different from Human cities. There isn’t a single high-rise.

And it’s also . . .” The marine breeze flows through my hair.

Strands stick to my lips. “A little ghostly? There are so many houses but few cars and so few people walking around . . . Oh. ” I flush.

It’s not that there aren’t many people. “Are they . . .” I bite my tongue, because of course the wolves milling around at the edge of the forest are Weres.

Simple animals are never that large, nor do they have such all-seeing expressions.

Above all, they wouldn’t join a chorus of howls after spotting Koen.

Which, judging by his reaction, is a typical welcome home. He lifts his hand in greeting, a small smile on his lips, and leads me to a cabin right at the outskirts of the woods.

“Third quarter’s not even over yet.” He must notice my confusion, and continues, “The pull of the moon is still strong enough that over half of the Northwest can easily maintain wolf form. Give it a week and you’ll see plenty of ‘people walking around.’?”

I climb the steps that lead up to the wraparound porch, a little embarrassed by the mockery in his voice, and admire the log exterior and tall windows.

It’s pretty. Rustic. The door is unlocked, and Koen opens it without knocking or announcing himself.

Must belong to someone he’s close to— a friend or a second or a girlfriend.

Does he? Have a girlfriend? Is that why he was so dismissive, when—

“Why do you smell so worried all of a sudden?” he asks, ushering me inside.

“Nothing.” I take a few hesitant steps, wondering if I’ll be mistaken for a home-wrecking intruder and deboned. What a way to go that would be. But I doubt it’ll be mine, because with my first deep breath, I know who the cabin belongs to.

“You live here,” I tell Koen. Accusingly. His scent is everywhere. It coats every object in a blanket of good and calm and safe and— did I mention good ? I feel it stick to my nostrils and the roof of my mouth. It’s like he took off his shirt and gave me permission to lick his skin, and—

What the hell? No.

“This is your house,” I repeat— less reproachful, more sullen.

“Yup.”

“The door was unlocked. And you were out of town.”

“I’m the Alpha of the pack, Serena.”

Fair enough. The likelihood of his space being invaded without an invitation is probably lower than someone gifting him a pet hippopotamus.

Plus, there wouldn’t be much to steal. This place is not like Lowe’s house— large, crowded, and cluttered, an obvious labor of love.

Koen’s decor style of choice seems to be I was going to hang a picture or two but got distracted, my bad .

The door opens into a single large room— kitchen on the left, living area on the right.

He’s clearly not much for knickknacks and ornaments, but judging from the shelves full of books, he likes to read.

On the coffee table, I spot a laptop. Some additional furniture, sparse but beautifully handcrafted.

A couch. A hallway that’ll likely lead to the bedrooms, and .

. . that’s about it. No TV. No stereo system.

The appliances in the kitchen are the kind that would fetch less than the shipping cost on eBay.

The fridge is an older model, not much taller than me.

“Did you make this?” I ask, tracing the woodgrain of the beautiful cherry table.

“A while ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Shop’s in the back.”

“So you do chop firewood.”

“I work wood. Not the same thing.”

Lumberjack , I mouth to myself. “You don’t spend much time here, do you?”

“Not lately, no. Just write me a list and I’ll get you what you need.”

Which is when my heart stops. Because I understand why he brought me here.

I need the mother of all escape plans. “I can’t stay at your house,” I say, calm. Reasonable. I’m an adult. I’m not panicking.

“Why?”

“Because.” I attempt a playful smile. “I’m a kleptomaniac. I’d steal your razors and shaving gel— and clearly , you’re in dire need of them.”

“Serena.”

“Not to mention, I snoop around. You’d have to hide all your porn magazines.”

“I have Wi- Fi, killer.”

“Well, turning on incognito browsing is a pain.”

He folds his arms. “It’s good that you’re funny. Next time someone tries to saw you open to study your half-Human gut microbiome, you can shoo them away with a jab at their masturbation habits.” He strides down the hall, and I run after him.

“Koen, seriously.” We pass a bedroom that smells so ruinously mouthwatering , it has to be his. Enter another. “I don’t think this place is a good fit for me.”

He opens the cabinet in the en suite to inspect its contents. “Because . . . ?”

“Well, this is not really an isolated area, and I haven’t learned how to tune out sounds yet.”

“Poor baby Were.” He turns to me. Suddenly, I see compassion in his eyes. “In that case, we’ll find a place where you can be alone in the middle of nowhere.”

My heart soars. “Really?”

“No,” he says mildly. “Fuck that. You’ll stay where I put you.”

I slump.

Koen is not a defenseless child, or a Vampyre who passes out in the brightest hours of the day.

I’m sure that if I have a violent sleep-walking episode, I’ll get exactly what I deserve.

But what if he’s the one asleep? Not to mention, he can be highly perceptive— and that meshes poorly with my secrets.

I need to be isolated to properly rot in my dysfunctions. “Thing is,” I try again, “I really like living alone.”

“Maybe you had shitty roommates,” he says casually, opening a closet. He grabs a set of fresh sheets and lifts them to his nose. They must pass muster, because he drops them on the mattress. “I, on the other hand, am a fucking delight.”

I watch him unearth several pillows. “Does it not bother your back, Koen?”

“You mean, the supermassive weight of my ego? No, it does not.”

“Oh, come on . How did you know— ”

“You’re gonna have to come up with more creative insults than that, Serena.” On the way to the bed, he taps my nose with two fingers and starts unfolding one of the pillowcases.

I take a deep, bolstering breath. “I really wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Pretty fucking late to worry about that,” he says distractedly, continuing to make the bed.

“Well.” I scowl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask to be a hybrid hunted by every single species.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t ask to be my mate, either.

” He stops mid fitting a bottom sheet to look me square in the eye.

“However, you did ask me to take you in and use you to lure Vampyres away from Ana. That was your mistake.” His mouth curls in a small, sardonic smile.

“I won’t be sleeping in the cabin with you, if that’s what worries you. ”

I flush. “No, that’s not what— Wait. Where will you be sleeping?”

“Outside,” he says, like I deserve to take remedial Were classes just for asking.

“You sleep outside.”

“Yes.”

“In the great outdoors.”

“Yup.”

“Every night.”

A brief pause. “Not every night.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Just every night in which I have time to sleep.”

“You mean that you don’t sleep every— You know, don’t answer that.” And I used to think that my job was stressful. “Did you just never outgrow your backyard camping phase— Oh. You sleep in wolf form.”