Page 56 of Mate

This is it, then. What he was born for.

I WAKE UP WHEN IT’S STILL DARK, FEELING LIKE AN ABOMINATION.

My skin itches, too tight for my body. I arch against the mattress and press a palm to my abdomen: something hot and angry is pulsating inside me, and if I let it rip me apart, maybe it’ll stop clawing at my insides.

I’m sticky. Covered in sweat, strands of hair glued to my throat.

My inner thighs are so wet, I refuse to think about it.

This cannot be normal, even for a Heat. It must be my ever fucked- up biology. Layla— I need to call her. Maybe she has something for the pain.

Are you really going to do that in the middle of the night? Wake up a woman with a small child who may very well be teething, just because you have a boo-boo? Are you that self-centered?

A whole-body cramp splits me in two, and— Yes, I fucking am .

Layla’s number is on the desk across the hallway.

I can get there. I can hike the Rocky Mountains.

I can swim to outer space. I may even be able to do all that and keep quiet enough to let Koen sleep.

He’s wrapped around me, chest to my back, and I gently slither under the arm he draped around my hips.

I pause when his grip tightens on me, but it’s a reflex, and a moment later I’m free.

Sitting up sucks the air out of me. My head swims, so I take a well-deserved break and beg my racing heart to slow down, giving myself a little pep talk. You are able to breathe, Serena . Have been for years. If your life had a performance review, it would not be marked as an area of improvement.

Then I hear, “Serena.”

Shit. Woke Koen up.

“Just going to the bathroom,” I lie. It comes out slurred, a chain-reaction crash of vowels and soft consonants, so I add, “Go back to sleep,” making an effort to enunciate better.

“Are you okay?”

His voice rolls over my skin. Makes the thing pulsating inside me purr sweetly.

For a second, it almost feels nice. “Yup. Don’t worry.

” It’s a bad idea, trying to answer him and to stand at the same time.

I’m in no condition for simultaneous activities: all it gets me is jelly knees and more pounding in my head.

I remember, once upon a time, being able to walk and chew gum. Ah, past glories.

“Serena.” Rustling behind me. The mattress dips as weight is redistributed. Koen, always one to show me up, gets into a sitting position with ease. His hand closes around my upper arm to pull me back into him, and his touch, the sheer ecstasy of it, it hurts. My entire body clenches. “What . . .”

He goes unnaturally still. So quiet, I wonder whether he’s feeling poorly, too. I turn to scan his face in the semidarkness, and after a long pause I hear him say, “ Fuck .”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t mean to— ”

Make a mess of the bed.

Make a mess of you.

Get this grossly sick.

Lose my mind.

“I’m going— I’ll shower and call Layla and figure this out and— ”

“Serena, come here.” He scoops me back into him, shushing me with his lips against my temple.

I’m on the verge of tears, and I’m not sure why. “Maybe you could help me to the bathroom— ”

“Hush, killer. I got you.”

He holds me. I’m tacky and gross and don’t want to lean on him, but every inch of contact is pure heaven. “Koen?”

“Relax.”

“I’m really not feeling well.”

“I know.” His nose nuzzles behind my ear. My heart could explode with joy. “You’ll be okay. I’ll make you okay.”

“I need to call Layla— ”

“Sweetheart.”

“It’s just that I need— ”

“You need to do what I tell you.” His tone is gentle and firm all at once, commanding in the exact way I need.

It quells my anxiety. Loosens my restlessness.

Koen’s scent is so pleased, my body blooms in his arms. “See, killer? We can fix this.” He licks across the gland on my neck, and I slump against him.

It’s bliss. “You don’t need to call Layla.

And you definitely don’t need to stay away. You know what you need?”

I shake my head. His cool lips press against my heated, blotchy cheek.

“You need to be fucked, Serena.”

Oh . It makes so much sense, I can finally compute the last few minutes. Of course. I’m about to go into Heat. Everything I need is here, in this bed. How did I not realize this sooner? “ I . . . I forgot?”

“I don’t think Heats are when people are at their most lucid.” His laughter rumbles softly against my throat.

“So I just need to . . . ?”

“Be fucked, yes. I’ll be taking care of that. Okay?”

“Please.” I nod, desperate, all brainstem. This is all I want. I’m hollow, and he’s going to fill me to the brim. The prospect scorches me blank. My vision whites out.

I’m also . . . The idea of water sloshing over my body makes me want to gouge my eyes out, but: “Can I . . . shower?”

Koen inhales deeply. Rolls us over until he’s hovering above me, murmuring something about how “fucking unbelievable” I smell. Nips at my jaw, teeth just a little too tight, just this side of dangerous. He could hurt me, but he would never.

“Wait. Before we . . . I’m going to shower.”

Koen props himself up on his palms to stare down at me, mystified. “What?”

You’re annoying your mate , a pick- me voice whispers in my ear. In your nest, no less. What is wrong with you? I shrug it away, and say again, “You’d like it better if I washed up.”

A silent snort. “I very much would not.”

I have no idea how to explain what’s happening to me and keep my dignity.

“It’s just, I’m sweaty and kind of disgusting, and also .

. . You could say that I’m eager, but it doesn’t really convey the depth of my .

. .” I shut my eyes tight, mortified. Feel a single, shameful tear slip out of one corner.

“Serena, do you want to shower?” He sounds befuddled. “Or are you asking because you think I find your body disgusting?”

“The . . . latter.”

Koen exhales. Indignant, maybe. “Open your eyes,” he orders.

I can’t. Don’t want to. But realize that’s not an option when he shoves my top up, licks one of my nipples, then bites into it hard enough for my back to wind high.

“Serena, open your damn eyes.”

I do. For a long moment we regard each other. Then he explains, tone level, “The reason you are so wet is that your body has been preparing for what is about to happen. Believe me, you will need all the slick you can spare.”

Slick. “I feel like I smell . . .”

“Fuckable. You smell ready . You smell transcendent and filthy and delicious. You smell like you’re this close to losing your mind, like you might hurt me if I don’t take care of you, and you know what that does to me, knowing that my mate needs me?

You understand what this is for, right? What Heats are for? ”

I nod but squirm underneath him. I might be lying.

“You always smell like you were made specifically for me. To fuck. To be around. To worship. But right now, you smell like you’d give me anything I asked for.

If that’s the scent you’re planning to wash off .

. . don’t do it on my account.” He bends to suck on my neck gland, then lets go with a lurid, popping sound.

I shudder. Watch him take off his shirt. Gaze never leaving mine, he spreads my legs open with his knees. When he stares down at me like that , I feel like I could . . .

He inhales deeply and closes his eyes. Like he needs a minute. “Fuck.”

I watch him stroke himself through the fabric of his sweatpants. I’ve been around Koen a lot in the past week, and I’m not so unobservant to have missed his erections, but the ridge of his cock always gives me pause. He is . . . large. Perfect. Already leaking through his clothes.

I want to touch him. I want to do everything with him. Anything he asks for, he can have.

“Is this what worries you?” he asks. “That you’re too wet?”

I nod. Cannot bring myself to say anything.

“You really have no idea, do you?”

A moment later, his face is in my cunt. His eyes drift shut as he laps, sucks, presses kisses against it.

I can’t tell whether he’s doing this for me or for himself, but I arch in a surge of pleasure and tremble, gasp, beg for more.

He pulls at my clit, strokes every fold with his tongue, and bites my inner thigh.

The noises he makes are fearsome. Animal. They should make me flinch, but . . .

“Please,” I keen. Fist my hands in his hair. Grind his face against my mouth. But my ass is in his hands and he controls my every movement. “Please.”

“Wanted to wash this off, huh?” he growls against me.

“I— Yes.”

“Good. Just helping you out, killer.”

I nod, breathless, and fist the sheets as he eats me— wolflike, with teeth, feral, the rough flat of his tongue scraping against me over and over, teasing the fluttering rim of my hole until I’m puffy and pink and taut, a violin string begging to be snapped.

I chase the end of it, press my heels into the meat of his shoulders, feel the pressure balloon inside me, building up and up and .

. . “Why can’t I— ” I writhe, desperate, frustrated.

He is ruining me. I feel the slide of his thumb through my slit, the broad first joint slowly pressing into my entrance.

“Tight,” he mutters. But he pushes it deeper, then hooks it just a little, and the pleasure crests so high, I know I’m there. I should be there.

Why can’t I? “Koen,” I whimper.

“I know. I know.” He drinks more of me. I’m trembling, right on a cliff. “You can’t come from this, killer. Not when you are so close to Heat.”

“Then why are you— Please, I need you to— ”

One last bite, strong enough to quiet me down. A warning. Be obedient . “You just want to be fucked, don’t you?”

Yes. Please.

“We’ll see about that.” His tone is ominous, but I exhale in relief as he pushes down his pants. He lowers himself on top of me, and his scent is breathtaking . But when I look down at the space between us, I see him nudging my opening with the blunt head of his cock, and . . .

My breath hitches.

“This is why,” he says, stroking himself.