Page 42 of Mate

He never thought the world was a particularly fair place. Still, it’s a startlingly vile brand of cruelty on fate’s part, to show him her— what he could have had, if only he’d made different choices.

I N THEORY,” LAYLA SAYS CAREFULLY, “WITH A HIGH DOSE OF PROGESTERONE , we should be able to prevent Estrus.”

“Perfect. Then— ”

“But we don’t know how an injection would interact with your biology.

” Her eyes fall on the lab results strewn over the desk, and she starts ticking off her fingers.

“Your Estrus started manifesting much earlier than in any other patient I’ve heard of, your hormone levels are still off, and your body doesn’t always respond to medication.

When Dr. Henshaw gave you steroid blockers, they were ineffective, just like antipyretic drugs.

You could even get a paradoxical reaction— ”

“We can try , though. Right?”

She pauses. “Serena, I will be happy to help you find a suitable partner— ”

“That’s not it.”

“What is it, then?”

“What if . . .” I close my eyes. “What if my body is set on Koen?” What if my soul is, too. What if the idea of doing any of this with someone who isn’t him makes my stomach turn and my heart shrivel?

Out of everything I’ve said, this takes her aback the most. Her eyes widen, and she leans forward over the desk, as if to better reassure me, “I understand that you and Koen have grown close. Heat is a turbulent time, and it’s natural to want to spend it with someone you trust. We are not Human, after all, and we communicate through nonverbal signals like touch or scent, and it’s normal to want to be with someone who reads you well.

But you can still find someone else who qualifies— ”

“Maybe it’s not about can .” I swallow. “Maybe it’s about want .” Honestly, I no longer know if there’s a difference between the two.

Her lips flatten. “Serena, it’s forbidden. To help you through your heat, Koen would be required to step down, which would inevitably lead to a succession war. Even worse, the Assembly might decide to— ”

“Secede again. Yes.” It’s my turn to lean forward. Make sure she understands. “I have no intention of putting Koen, or the Northwest, in that position. And that’s why I need you to help me not go into Heat.”

A flicker passes through her eyes, and I know that she’ll do what I’m asking for.

I STEP OUTSIDE SEM’S OFFICE TO FIND KOEN GONE AND brENNA rolling her eyes. “You know what my favorite pastime is?”

“Um . . . no?”

“Waking up at ass o’clock in the morning because my Alpha wants me to babysit a halfling who can’t take care of herself, and noticing her poorly hidden, crushing disappointment when she sees me. So delightfully flattering.”

I blush. “I’m sorry. It’s lovely to see you, I just didn’t expect— ”

“Yeah, sure. Yap, yap, yap. Come on.” She lifts herself out of one of the plush chairs in the waiting room. “Let’s go. Koen wants me to take you home.”

I last about four seconds before asking, “Where did he— ”

“There was a situation at the border.” Her tone is bored.

“Was it the cult?”

“No. Still related to you, though.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Brenna, who?” I hate begging her for little snippets of information. Almost as much as she loves leaving me in limbo for the two minutes we walk to her car.

“Vampyres,” she admits once she’s behind the wheel. “A lot of them, split in two groups, trying to get to you from the north. Their plan was to have the first team distract our patrols while the second entered the territory to abduct you. Didn’t work out.”

“Who sent them?”

“See, there is some devious shit going on here. The Vampyres in the first group, the ones we were obviously supposed to catch, were wearing jewelry that would tie them to a councilmember who has historically been pro Were alliances, which . . .”

“Would be incredibly stupid.”

“And say what you want about leeches, but they’re not. Unless they are, because they think we’d fall for false flags. Food for thought. The second group was harder to identify, so . . .”

“Did they contact Owen?”

“Yup. He was able to recognize a couple of them and believes it’s proof that Councilwoman Selamio called the bounty on you. But he needs incontrovertible evidence and possibly a confession, which in turn requires the presence of someone who can be very . . . persuasive. Hence, Koen.”

Who’s nothing if not persuasive. “Are you planning to return them alive?”

She gives me a pitying glance. “That ship has long sailed for most of them.”

“Oh. Right.” I clear my throat. “Do you know what the councilwoman wanted with me?”

“To study you. Run a whole assay on your lymph nodes. Cut you up in cubes and slap you on microscope slides. That kind of stuff.” She grins at me. It transforms the usually dour lines of her face into something so stunning, I have no problem picturing Koen’s crush on her when they were younger.

Last night . . . What he and I did. What he did to me— he didn’t seem clumsy. Or new at it. Or even out of practice. And since Brenna and Koen used to—

“Are you okay?” Brenna asks me.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“No, I mean . . . You were seeing Sem first thing in the morning. You’re not dying or something, are you?”

I blink at her, and all at once I’m not quite sure how to breathe, or speak, or interact with the world surrounding me. It’s like I’ve been locked in a cupboard for months. But its door has been ripped open, and now there’s light. There’s air. There’s a fucking future .

I don’t have CSD. Which means that I have more than just months left.

I can make choices. I can go back to the Southwest, see Ana grow up, watch Misery be the worst parent on the planet.

I can be a journalist again, or a financial advisor, or dedicate the next ten years to learning how to solve Rubik’s Cubes.

I can apply for a loan, buy a cabin close to the Pacific Coast, and spend my mornings exploring the shoreline. I can annoy Koen ad infinitum.

The joy of it sings so loudly in my blood, the car is too small to contain it. I have to trap it within my body and let go of it little by little, in slow puffs of air.

“No,” I say at last. Because for the first time in months, I can. “As it turns out, I’m not dying.”

“’Kay. Good.”

“I . . . Brenna, could we stop by the store?”

“Sure. Why?”

“I . . .” A tear slides down my cheek. I cover my smile with the palm of my hand. “I just realized that I’m going to need some sunscreen.”

I SPEND THE DAY ALONE IN THE CABIN, WITH FREQUENT VISITS from the Weres patrolling the surrounding area. A couple of them I know. Several introduce themselves. All of them are naked. I must be adapting well to the Northwest lifestyle, because I barely notice.

They check in, see if I need anything. Ask the same questions, in the same order, with the same wording, which may take away some of the spontaneity but makes them feel even more like the proxies of the man who sent them.

I talk on the phone with Ana, then Ana and Misery, then just Misery. It’s hard not to share that I’m not yet headed for the mushroom suit. Can’t tell them about the sequel if you didn’t let them watch the original.

I putter around the house. Clean the sheets.

I’m not hungry, but I open the fridge anyway, just to glance affectionately at the still prominently placed unicorn waffles.

I play the piano, sure it’s silently cringing at how ghostly I pale in comparison to its owner.

I try not to think about Koen’s hands. I nap, hoping I won’t wake up in flames. Or uncontrollably horny.

Heat spotting , Layla called it. They are surges that happen before Heat itself. Not long lasting, but can be intense. I suspect that your high fevers may have been surges left unattended.

Koen returns a little before sunset, while I’m going to town on a seven-year-old half-completed crossword I found under his bed.

I have a whole speech ready— about what happened last night, about my lifespan’s sudden growth spurt, about how I never meant to force him to break his covenant.

About how sorry I am that he spent his day dealing with Vampyre commandos who are after me, and the fact that yes, I’m absolutely judging him for letting nearly a decade pass without filling in seven across: diminishing marginal utility .

But he walks inside, dark circles under his eyes and tousled hair, caught at a rare unguarded time, and all I can squawk out is “I made dinner.”

He turns. Stares. Sucks in his cheek. “Did you.” He sounds suspicious.

“Yup.”

“Saul said you’ve been asleep for the past four hours.”

“I lied. I’m good at it, as you know. Plus, by the fourth person who knocked to ask if I needed anything, I kinda knew the— What happened to your side?” A large stain seeps into the dark gray of his cotton Henley. He glances at it like he’d forgotten about it.

“I’m going to get changed.”

The closer I get, the easier it is to smell it— the coppery tinge of fresh Were blood, so different from the iron of mine.

“Sure, sure. ’Tis but a scratch . You’ve proven your Alpha unflappability.

Your pain threshold is so high, it’s wondering if the color blue you see is different from the color blue I see.

I am adequately impressed— now take the shirt off. ”

“And if I’m deathly wounded?” His eyebrow twitches skeptically. “What are you going to do about it, doctor ?”

I gasp. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to pretend I know Were anatomy, loudly debate whether you need stitches, decide that you don’t, because I have no idea what stitches even are, and clean the general area of the wound with a cotton swab while ignoring the grosser bits.

Most importantly, I will not pass Go before retrieving my physician assistant diploma. Any objections?”

He hides a smile, but I spot it anyway, even as he reaches over his shoulder, grabs the upper back of the shirt, and pulls it off.

The wound is not a scratch, but neither is it as bad as the pooling blood suggested.