Page 58 of Mate

One stolen moment. And another. And another.

I CANNOT BELIEVE LAYLA DIDN’T MENTION IT!”

“She probably assumed you knew.” Koen smiles a little and keeps drumming his fingers on the curve of my hip. “ I certainly did.”

“This is mind-blowing. Does Lowe have one?”

He scowls. “I have not personally witnessed it, but— ”

“I didn’t mean . . . I’m not interested in my best friend’s husband’s penis.

Or, I am, if she wants to, you know, talk about it because of issues they’re having.

Say he was struggling with erectile dysfunction and Misery wanted to confide in me, I wouldn’t be like, I don’t care, shut up , but I also wouldn’t solicit nudes of Lowe— ”

“Serena.”

I clear my throat. “I think Misery may have tried to warn me.”

“About knots.”

“I thought she was on her usual bullshit, so I ignored her.”

“Understandable.”

“There’s a Human urban legend that Weres have inflatable dicks, but it’s widely believed to be made up. Like the rumor that Vampyres pulverize in the sun? But lo and behold, we found a single conspiracy theory grounded in reality. Of course it’s the one about genitalia.”

Koen doesn’t reply, so I lift myself up on my forearm and look at him.

The knot — here I am, using new vocabulary in full sentences— has deflated, but I’m still half on top of him, clearheaded once again.

He plays with my hair, marks every inch of my skin, squeezes the fat and muscles of my body, moving from curve to bone like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted.

I wonder if he’s storing every little touch for later.

If he’s even aware of what he’s doing, staring at me with a faint half smile that is just . . .

Lovesick.

It’s like a boulder in my stomach, the transience of this. Of us. We’re momentary. Impermanent. Doomed.

He deserves better. “So,” I say lightly, a little forced. “You do like sex, after all.”

“Did I say that I didn’t?”

“No. Just . . .” I chew on my lower lip. “Amanda said you never looked like you missed it.”

“Because I didn’t.”

I swallow. “Do you think . . . After this is done, do you think it’ll be harder for you to go back to not having it?”

“Serena,” he says, deliberate, level. “None of this is about sex.”

“Then what— ”

“You. This, all of it, is purely about you .”

I sit up, desperate to find the right thing to say. The sheet slides down to my hips, and Koen doesn’t pretend to look anywhere but at my breasts. “Still spectacular ?” I joke, fighting the impulse to cover myself. It’s a little uncomfortable, being on display, even after what we just did.

“I hope you never find out the things I’ve done while thinking about them.”

I flush. “I was so self-conscious about my body. For the longest time.”

“Why?”

I draw up my knees. Cover myself. “Just the side effect of being the short, busty sidekick to a tall, elegant, cypress-like princess creature.” My cheeks are hot. “It’s nice, I guess. That you’re not disappointed in the way I look.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yeah. I mean, it could have shaken out in a different . . . Why are you staring at me like I just told you that angels’ wings are made of porridge?”

He exhales, speechless. “You know what? You wouldn’t get it.”

“How so?”

“Leave it alone.”

“But I want to know.”

“Just . . .” He bites the inside of his cheek, looking for the right words.

“You are my mate. I would have wanted you no matter what. I will want you no matter what. But you are also . . .” He licks his lips.

“If someone had given me a piece of paper and asked me to list everything I liked, everything I dreamed of, everything that I was sure would make me happy, you would have been the final product of it.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Good line , I want to tell him, just to dull the way it stabs through my ribs. No need to waste it on me, I’m already a sure thing.

But it’s so obviously not a line. He’s trying to explain something to me, something that he knows in his belly, and I . . .

I guess I’m listening.

“There could never be disappointment, because there were never any comparisons, or expectations, or hopes, or standards to meet. There’s only . . .” He casts a glance around the room, searching. Then his eyes settle on me. “There is only you, Serena.”

It’s unacceptable, his adoring expression. I hide my burning face in my knees and scramble for something, anything to say, but my mind is blank and—

“Hey.” He pulls me closer, into his arms again.

“It’s a Heat. It’s normal, feeling unsteady.

I’ve got you, okay?” I nod, and he twines his fingers with mine.

Lifts my arm and inhales the skin in the crook of my elbow, where my scent pools.

“I could live here,” he murmurs. “In this crease.” A kiss, soft lipped.

“I thought my elbows were too ‘fucking sharp’ for your distinguished taste.”

He smiles. Nips at me. “It’s going to build up again. Soon. You’ll feel more and more out of control.”

“More out of control than earlier?”

“Yes.”

“How do you even know?”

“I’m the Alpha of this pack. I know everything.”

I squint. “What’s the square root of pi?”

“Zero point nine.”

“Okay, I should have asked you a question I know the answer to. I’m just surprised, since you’ve never had the exigency of spending a Heat with— ”

“I educated myself when you started smelling like you’d have the exigency.” He lifts me into the curve of his body. Spoons me. “Just fucking believe me for once.”

“Hmm.”

“Rest while you can,” he orders.

Why not? This is nice. Perfect, even. I fall asleep nestled under his chin. Still thinking that— worse than earlier? Probably an exaggeration. I’ll be fine.

IT’S NOT. (AN EXAGGERATION.) BUT I AM. (FINE.)

Better than.

It hits me halfway through the first day, in the late afternoon light, a fleeting spell of clarity as I stare at Koen’s wide shoulders glistening above.

He rocks inside me slowly, a languid, wet rhythm.

I just came. A couple of times. He hasn’t yet.

He tries to make it last as long as possible, every single time, and this is the best I can recall feeling in years.

My world, when narrowed to just Koen and our nest, is light and kind and full of revelries.

I lean back. Study his slack mouth. His eyes, closed, squeeze tighter with every thrust. Like he has to brace himself. Build a dam every time, to keep his orgasm from spilling out. Pleasure is written all over his features.

I smooth his damp hair back with my palm and say, “Koen.”

His eyelids flutter open. He nuzzles into my hand like a big, half-tamed beast. Presses a biting kiss into the flesh right undermy thumb, an invitation to continue. It makes my insides spasm.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “For this.”

“I told you not to— ”

I arch to shut him up with a kiss, and with a soft curse he slides one arm between my back and the mattress to pull me up.

“You’re welcome. Lucky for you, I’m so fucking”— a harder stroke— “ selfless .”

I inhale sharply, already quivering along his cock. My orgasm builds quickly, violently, a warm rush that has my thighs locking around his hips. “No, I . . . Thank you. For making this so— ”

Before I can tell him how disorientingly good this feels, his knot is growing, thick, inescapable, and he’s too busy hiking one of my legs back toward my chest to hear what I have to say.

This is how things should be , I think . Always.

AFTER WEEKS OF TRUANCY, MY APPETITE RETURNS AT THE WORST possible time.

I decide to give it the cold shoulder and focus on what’s rapidly becoming my favorite thing in the world: thrashing around and begging Koen to do something, anything, everything to me.

Unfortunately, he really did educate himself about Heats.

Not only did he memorize some doctor’s office pamphlet, but he’s also extremely literal about it.

We can start again after you have a strawberry , he tells me.

One more sip of juice. Like that. Be good. Give me one more.

Open up. No, not later — now.

You have to drink. A kiss against the flushed skin of my throat. Girls in Heat only get what they ask for if they finish their water.

“You know you’re not going to get a surprise visit from the Heat inspector, right?” I ask between shallow gulps of electrolytes. “There are no thumbs- up stickers for doing exactly what the textbook— ”

He grasps my chin and taps the pad of his thumb against my lips, pushing against them until I have no choice but to open. “Since it’s obvious that your mouth is not nearly busy enough, you’re having another glass before we continue.”

The nutrition is a boon. For the first time in months, I’m not exhausted or dizzy or confused.

I don’t have a headache. In fact, I feel surprisingly healthy, even as I rub myself against Koen to get him to pay attention to me.

The rational, cortical part of my brain knows he hasn’t so much as cast a glance elsewhere since the day we met.

But as my Heat progresses, his scent becomes compulsive, and my wants snap into unprecedented focus.

Koen is perfect. Koen is strong. Koen is maddening and beautiful and mine , and I want what I am due.

At my best, I am enamored with every inch of his body, with every word he rasps against my ear.

At my worst, I am a savage, impatient, rude creature that tolerates no competition. Possessive. Impossible to reason with.

“Spoiled,” he mumbles against my lips, but there’s a touch of a smile at the corners of his eyes, in the webs of wrinkles irradiating from them. “Nuisance.”

So he seats me on his cock and splits me open, and as I strive to relearn how to breathe with him inside, he feeds me slices of fruit, whispering, Sweetheart.

This is really fucking good. He rubs his thumb against my clit, and I clamp hard around him.

My mind empties. I don’t think about the day I arrived here, unicorn waffles and too few chairs, and I bury my face in his throat as I try to finish chewing so that he can go deeper, so that we can move .