Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“She’s half Human, after all.” “And you’re half jackass. What a stunning coincidence.”

“Like I said, she’s very beautiful. I wouldn’t mind tossing her your way, after I’m done with her,” he offers. Koen’s eyes contract to displeased pinpricks, and his scent gives off such unequivocal aversion, even the Vampyre knows to backtrack. “Or you could have your fun with her. Then I’d take her away, no questions asked. She’d have no one to complain to.” An owl hoots in the distance. I hold my breath, waiting for Koen to tell the Vampyre to fuck off, but the silence lingers, and his eyes grow opaque, and after a while he… Koen nods. My heart plummets. No. He wouldn’t. He would never. “Koen?” I say. Half question, half plea. “In my defense, Serena…” Koen lifts his shoulders. “It’s always fucking something with you.” Ice prickles all over my skin. “No. Don’t. Koen, don’t—” “I took the liberty to get started,” the Vampyre says, and before I can wonder what he means, his free hand lowers the torn half of my top down my shoulder. Koen’s eyes linger on my nearly bare chest like I’m no more than a cut of flesh. An offering to be appraised. Something created for him to use. I watch his pupils do an odd dance, sense a shift in his scent before he murmurs, “See, this is how you make a deal. I knew you had it in you, Bob.”

“How’s your night been?” “Uneventful,” I rasp out. “Yeah? You look like shit.” “Do I.” Gelid sweat slides down my temple and between my breasts, which I hurry to cover as best as I can. “Is this the way you talk to your beloved mate?” A single eyebrow lifts. “I said you were my mate. Not that I loved you.”

“You are my mate,” he says. With little inflection. So little, I must have misheard. I learned it back in college. Linguistics elective, junior year. The rhythmic patterns of language contribute to listening comprehension. “Excuse me?” “You and the Vampyre are close, right?” he asks, full of that calm that borders on indifference. Is he making fun of me? “She explained what a mate is?” Slowly, I nod. “What Misery is to Lowe, you are to me.” Oh. Oh? Oh. “Is this a, um…terminal diagnosis?” His lips twitch. “No cure, I’m afraid.” “I see.” I clear my throat. “Well, this relationship sure escalated quickly.” His words surprised me, but the way the corners of his eyes crease in amusement shocks me tenfold. His laugh is a deep, warm chuckle that makes my heart stumble. “You have no idea, kid.” I cross my arms. “Should you be calling me ‘kid,’ given the situation?” “I’m not married to it. What would you prefer?” “Well, there’s always my actual name. But if you insist on a nickname, I’d prefer something with a bit more…” “More?” “More teeth.” His eyebrow rises. “Root canal?” “No. Come on, you know what I mean. Something that inspires fear.” “Real estate market crash.” “Okay, maybe less fear and more…awe. Warrior-like.” His once-over is skeptical. “You’re what? Five feet?” “I’m two and a half inches over that. And for your information, the other day these stubby little legs butchered several Vampyres.” “Look at you go, killer.”

“Humans are so fucking dramatic.” “And Weres are such dicks,” I reply sweetly. “Lucky for you, you’re a mix of both.”

“Koen?” I’m almost fully asleep, my lids too heavy to open. “Yeah?” “I think you owe me an apology.” “For what?” “The way you stared at my tits.” Silence. Then, instead of the I’m sorry or Go to fucking sleep I expect, he says, “I think you owe me an apology.” “For what?” “How spectacular your tits are.” God, he really is an epic asshole. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever met.” “Wouldn’t be surprised,” he mutters. I fall asleep with a small smile on my face. And for a few hours, I don’t think about how little time I have left to live.

“Are we in the Southwest?” That’s where he’s going to take me, right? Back to Misery and Lowe. “Still Northwest. We stopped at one of our safe houses.” Lazily, I paw at Koen’s shoulder and stretch in his arms. “I can walk.” “Me too. Wanna start a club?” “Can I be president?” “Treasurer at most.” “No deal.” I yawn into the spot at the base of his neck, which causes his grip to falter first and then tighten. “Seriously, you can let go of me.”

His leadership philosophy seems to be if inconvenient, why not dead?

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.

“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.”

“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.”

“Was that so hard?” I clench my fist. “Since you obviously already knew, why did you make me say it?” “Hearing you verbally acknowledge your limitations brings flavor and spice to my life. Why were you keeping it a secret?” “I don’t know. I…Maybe I just didn’t want you looking down on me.” “I will never not look down on you, chiefly because of our height difference. When did it start?” “A while ago.”

“For someone juggling this many secrets, you’re pretty terrible at keeping them.” “I’ll try to do better, Alpha.”

“Under Were custom, I cannot keep this from Lowe. He’s your Alpha.” “Is he, though? I didn’t, like, go to the DMV to sign paperwork—” “To the what, now?” “—and I didn’t take a blood oath. You said it yourself, that I have no pack—” “You are not an official member of any pack. You are, however, affiliated with the Southwest. The alternative is for Were society to deal with you as a rogue Were, and you do not want that.” “I don’t understand, why does it matter—” “Correct. You don’t understand. Were packs are not chummy extended families, killer. To safely set foot in a pack’s territory, you’ll need to be affiliated with that pack or with their allies.” “And if I’m not?” He gives me a flat look that— Okay. Got that loud and clear. “Can I change? If I were affiliated with the Northwest, then it would be okay for Lowe not to know, right?” “That would make me your Alpha.” “Would you mind that?” He stares like I’m trying to sell him a pouch of magic beans. “To be clear, I know that I’m being played. I’m just allowing it because I love the idea of telling you what to do that much.” I cannot help my smile. “Very well. Deal. Now that I’m officially a Northwesterner—” “Not a name we go by.” “—in the name of Alpha-member confidentiality—” “Which doesn’t exist.” “—I ask you to please not tell Misery that I’m…I don’t know, regressing to my Human self? She already has plenty to be nervous about.” I chew on my lower lip for a moment. “Will you take me in, then? It’ll ease the pressure off...

“What about the Northwest Alpha?” A beat. “What about him?” “Are you not his mate?” I look at him over my shoulder. “He won’t care. It’s just—it’s only hormones. Sex.” The doctor cocks his head. “I highly doubt that’s true.” “Koen’s a grown man. I—” I blink, feeling a burst of anger. I cannot worry about Koen. I need to make sure that Misery and Ana are safe and taken care of, and…Does Dr. Henshaw not get it? “He can handle wanting to fuck someone and being told no,” I say, voice acid with worry and something that feels too much like regret. “If he can’t, that’s his problem.” I walk out, pretending not to hear Dr. Henshaw tell me that if that’s the impression I’m under, either I was lied to, or I’m lying to myself.

“You heard the plot twist, then?” “Which one?” “I might be part of your pack.” He stares, unreadable, until I continue. “We could be related. I could be your cousin.” He scoffs, unimpressed. “You’re not.” “How do you know?” “I have a cousin. Looking at her does not feel like looking at you.”

“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.

“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.”

“Word of advice, killer?” he murmurs. “Stubborn and stupid is just a couple letters’ difference.” “You’re not the best speller, are you?”

“I don’t want to be unfair. Your life has been hard. But I hope you will leave soon, Serena. I appreciate that you’re trying to protect Lowe’s sister, but I hope you’ll know better than to stick around once this is over.” It would be so easy to snap back, if she was being deliberately rude. But she’s obviously in pain. And too distracted to notice her slackening grip and the opening she’s giving me. I rip my arm free, shift our positions, and swing my legs over her body. Putting pressure on the joint of her elbow, I watch her thrash for a few seconds. It’s there in her eyes, the moment she realizes that there’s no way out. “I’m not going to stick around,” I puff out, winded. “I’ll be out of your hair before you can swat me away. And you don’t have to worry about Koen and me. We’re not together. The mate thing has no bearing on our relationship. We’re not secretly in love with each other. We’re not even fucking.” “Oh, I know.” Her smile is strained. “Believe me, we all know.” “Good. He explained the situation to you.” I glance up and find him staring at us. At me. If he’s angry that I won, he hides it well. There is a shadow of a smile around his eyes, at the edge of him, that resembles…pride. I hope what he reads in my wide, smug grin is Guess I’ll be living on my own. And maybe he does. Because he nods, once, as if conceding that I’m right. I open my mouth to say something obnoxiously victorious—and that’s when I realize that my celebration was premature. With an explosiv...

The note, unsigned, simply says, From your mother. Underneath there is a silver necklace: a moon scratched by four claw marks.

“What important business do you have on your plate, killer?” I pretend to think about it. Then, still cross-legged next to his chair, I lift my two closed fists and ask, “Which one?” He sits back. “There’s nothing in your hands, Serena.” “Doesn’t matter. It’s all in my head. Choose.” “What the hell is this, now?” He sounds fed up. A little pained. “It’s a game Misery and I used to play growing up. We couldn’t exactly go out shopping and buy presents most of the time, so when we wanted to do something nice for each other…” I show him my fists. “Choose one.” He points at my right. Which is for the best. “You get coffee,” I tell him, holding out the mug. “Hang on. What would I have gotten if I’d chosen the other?” “A hug.” His eyes widen. Then squint. “What if I want to change my answer?” “First of all, we both know you don’t.” I nudge the mug up at him until he has no choice but to accept it. “Secondly, you can’t. This is like when Misery decided that she wanted me to clean her room instead of giving her a kiss on the cheek.” Koen frowns. “I want a kiss on the cheek.” “You can’t change your mind after you pick—that’s the whole point of the game. And the kiss wasn’t even an option for you.” “Bullshit. I want both options.” “No way.” I snort. “That’s not how the world works—you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. When you make a choice, you miss out on what you didn’t pick. There’s always a price to pay. In real life, and in the game.” “It’s a dumb fucking game, then.” He lo...

“Where are we?” “A bit outside the Den. A friend of mine owns a store here.” “Look at you guys. Having stores.” He pulls the hand brake. “And indoor plumbing. And statistics.” “And sarcasm?” “You catch up quickly. Come on.”

“Serena, this is Carter. Carter, Serena, who we won’t bother pretending requires introductions, needs something to wear that fits her.” “Does she?” He gives me the once-over. Purses his chiseled mouth. “She seems to like your flannel.” Koen’s grunt is unintelligible. I attempt a smile, but it comes out tense—which he notices. “You’re not afraid, are you.” It’s not really a question, and I decide to be truthful. “Just intimidated by how sophisticated Carter looks.” It doesn’t help that my pants are Koen’s sweats rolled up about five times, giving me an exquisite toddler wearing life buoy at the pool je ne sais quoi. “You can handle it,” Koen says. His hand slides under the collar of my flannel, between the layers of fabric that rest on my neck. All heat, no skin-to-skin contact. He squeezes me with something that could be reassurance, or a threat of strangulation. “Since you’ve had so much exposure to my good looks.” Carter and I burst out laughing, then stop when we notice Koen’s narrow-eyed stare. “Absolutely,” Carter says, recovering faster. “It’s a valid narrative choice. The scruff, I mean.” He scans Koen like he’s a vision board. “The story I’m picking up is that you are resourceful enough to survive forty days and forty nights in the desert by sucking the moisture out of a prickly pear. If it isn’t what you’re going for—only if it isn’t, may I recommend a haircut and a shave?” “Don’t criticize my looks. It hurts my feelings.” “Your what?” I ask. Koen gives me a deadp...

When I wave at him, he hesitantly waves back, somewhere between starstruck and petrified. Maybe I should offer him an autograph. Capitalize on this new fame while I still can. Sell jerseys. Run for office. Sign partnership deals. It’s nightmare fuel.

“It was nice,” I tell Koen in the car. “Grocery shopping?” I nod, unsure how to explain that I haven’t felt this normal and grounded in forever. “If this is a beloved pastime of yours, you may continue doing my grocery shopping. At no cost to you.” “Cool. I’ll be in charge of buying your—” “Unicorn waffles. Look at you, holding on to jokes like your life depends on it.” It’s what I’ve got, I think.

“Please. Let me make you pretty.” “I’m already pretty. I’m fucking stupendous.” I sigh. “Oh, if only you could use suppositories to—” “To cure my malignant narcissism?” How does he always know? “Listen—I just want to make you presentable. You said that you don’t have time to go get a haircut, but I’m already in your house, and you’re my live-in nanny. Think of the ease.” “Has anyone told you that you’re kind of a nuisance, killer?” “A guy. Once or ten times.” I grin. “But I could be so much worse.” “I’ll take it as a threat.”

The first makes me blush and roll my eyes and wish that I had a shovel to bury myself in Koen’s garden: every single pair of underwear he selected for me is red. Bright red. Dull red. Wine red. Blood red. All. Kinds. Of. Red. I’m not equipped to process it, so I focus on the second, which makes me smile. At first, I think he may have replaced the plushie I mentioned. Then I realize that the little pink penguin in the bag is hard, made of plastic. A few seconds of fiddling with it tells me that it’s a pocketknife with a foldable blade. It’s cute—and thoughtful, especially considering that I no longer have claws at my disposal. It has a different, deeper kind of heat spreading through me, and I don’t want to overthink it, so I shift my attention to the third thing. And I stop breathing. Because every single thing I glanced at, grazed, examined, eyed, or even considered when we were at the grocery store, every single thing I decided to walk past, every single thing I told myself I didn’t need—every single thing has somehow made it here, inside Koen’s house.

“Do you always have guests sitting on the floor?” I ask him when he walks up to me, handing him a bowl of scraps. “And could you take this out? For Twinkles.” “For who, now?” “The wolf dog I met this morning. I sent Ana a picture and she picked a name for him.” Koen crosses his arms, refusing the bowl. “What about a feral mutt covered in mud screamed Twinkles to her?” “I believe she decided that he’s Sparkles’s long-lost brother, and she’s committed to the theme. Elle, since Koen won’t, will you put this on the porch?” I smile at the girl, who looks like a very badass kindergarten teacher. “Thank you so much.” “Did you cook for my seconds?” Koen sounds less than enthused. “Yeah. Isn’t that why you brought me here? To keep your home?” His face has me snorting out a laugh. “I tried to stop her,” Amanda says, joining us. “But I couldn’t.” Koen glares at her. “You were unable to physically prevent a hybrid half your size from producing a vat of homemade marinara sauce.” “Well, the thing is…she’s kind of a good cook.” “Aw, thank you. Want another helping?” “Yes, please.” “It’s on the stove.”

“Mouthy, isn’t she, Boden?” He sighs. “Never thought I’d be into that, and yet. Bane of my fucking existence.” His eyes flit to mine. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says with a lopsided smile. “I love watching asses being ridden. It’s my favorite kind of porn.”

“If I were Alpha of this pack, she wouldn’t be allowed here.” I cringe a little, because he feels so young. One day his frontal lobes will develop, he’ll think back to this interaction, and his friends will have to remove all sharp objects from his household. Koen, too, seems mostly embarrassed for him. “Boden, given the number of new sphincters this girl just tore you, I don’t need to tell you…” He stops and makes a pensive face. “Then again, I do love indulging in gratuitous displays of authority. So here you have it: Serena is my guest. Bother her again, and I’ll make you regret it.” “She’s not your guest.” A sneer twists Boden’s mouth. “Half of the members of this pack want her dead.” “Is that so.” “Yes. And we all know that you despise her just as much as everyone else does.” “Do I.” “You’re just stuck with her because she’s…” “Because she’s what?” Boden seems to have found his limit. The one thing he isn’t willing to bring up. “Come on,” Koen urges calmly. “Say it. What is she?” “Your mate.” “Ah, yes. I’d forgotten about that.” Koen slaps his own temple with the heel of his palm. He continues, monotone, “Since you’re so sure that everyone here despises her, including me, let this be known: fuck with my mate, and I’m going to kill you so slowly, draw it out so long, tectonic plates will move and create whole new mountain ranges. And when the rest of your family comes to avenge you, I’ll do the same to them. And if your friends come, I’m not going to fucking stop. Not ...

“Alpha is all I’ve ever been, and all I’ll ever be.” “What about after?” “There might not be an after. But if there is…I guess I’ll find a hobby.” “What hobby?” “No clue. I’ll have to figure it out.”

Koen was fifteen when he became Alpha. Fifteen. And around the same time, something big happened—something that killed Brenna’s family, destroyed pack records, and gave the Northwest a reason to reunite. I’m not sure what the age of majority is among Weres, but I’ve seen the way young Were members are treated in packs, and I can’t imagine anyone would be happy with a fifteen-year-old becoming Alpha, least of all the fifteen-year-old in question. Unless… Unless there were no alternatives. Unless there were no dominant older members to take over. Because everyone who was past their late teens left, or was…eliminated. Some kind of accident? An attack? But how does that happen? What slices a pack with such surgical precision? Who does?

“Serena, the Alpha of Northwest pack is traditionally asked to honor a celibacy covenant. He’s forbidden by law to engage in any kind of intimate relationships—emotional or physical.”

He told her that he would never touch her because he didn’t want her enough; in truth, he will never touch her because he wants her too much. The make-believe, he thinks, was kinder to both of them.

The covenant was never a big part of his life. He would forget about it for months, even years. It never felt like a sacrifice, just a simple trade-off, an integral feature of who he was: the Alpha of the Northwest. Then she arrived, assumed total control of him, and left no room for anything but her.

“The reason we are here, Alpha,” the man starts, “is that—” “The pack newsletter let you know that I have a woman—my mate, no less—staying in my cabin as we wait for this new tide of murderous psychos to ebb, and you’re afraid I’m fucking her. Sound about right?” Anneke and the man exchange surprised looks, but the older woman just smiles. I run my hand through Koen’s hair and tilt back his head until his neck is exposed. He follows my directions, pliant in my hands. “He’s not,” I say distractedly. “He’s not…?” Anneke asks. “Breaking the covenant. I remain tragically unfucked.” There’s sudden tension in his bare back, the trip of a heartbeat that I can detect only because I’m in his space, touching him. A tic of his jaw. Ah. So you were hoping I wouldn’t find out. “Tip your chin up, Koen—perfect.” I swipe the razor down the column of his throat and run my fingers over his skin, pleased with the smooth slip. Koen didn’t have any shaving cream, so I’m using a blend of soap and conditioner. I take a short moment to admire my handiwork, and then smile at Anneke. “He’s not madly in love with me, either. Honestly, he barely even talks to me.”

“It’s just been a lot. In very little time. I think I’m ready for the musical episode, you know?” “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” I laugh again. This time he smiles, too.

“Can you tell me who he is?” “He was a Were. About two decades ago, he was directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of Weres and Humans in the Northwest.” I clench my fists so hard, my nails leave imprints in my palms. “And now he’s back.” “He’s dead.” “Could reports of his passing have been greatly exaggerated?” “I ripped his heart out of his chest, chewed it for half a minute, and then spit it into the ocean.” I nod slowly. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.” Koen’s mouth twitches. “Constantine’s dead, no doubt about it. But he was the leader of a very destructive group.”

“Look at me.” I do. His eyes are dark and steady. Make me forget what led us here, and what’s to come. “Your name doesn’t fucking matter. You are my killer. Okay?” A laugh hiccups out of me, a little wet. “Okay.” “Good. I need to meet with the Assembly.” His thumb swipes against my cheekbone. “Do you want to come with me?” Yes, with every single cell of my body. “Why would I come with you?” “Because the idea of having you out of my sight makes me want to flip those cars one by one.” I stifle my chuckle. “The Assembly is very concerned that you’re breaking your covenant. I doubt me coming with you would help your case.” “Good point.” He seems to consider it. “On the other hand, fuck my case.” I snort. Watch him rise to his feet. Feel my heart grow heavier as he walks away. Then, just a few feet from me, he turns around. “Killer?” “Yeah?” There is a false start. Like the words are too foreign to flow out with ease. But then he says, “Before I leave, I think I need to hold you for a minute.” I’m in his arms before I know how I got there.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If anything happens to me, what do you do?” “Buy a black veil, pretend I’m a widow, cash in on your life insurance.” “You call Lowe. Ask him to come get you.” “What about your seconds?” Koen’s jaw shifts. He seems to come to a bitter realization. “I trust them with my life, but apparently not with yours. Lowe can protect you better than anyone.” His hand lifts to my cheek. Falls back to his side without touching me. “Well. Anyone but me. You’ll be safe tonight. I have people patrolling around the cabin—” “The two cardinal points, yes.” “I have twelve guards.” “That is…” I close my mouth. I’m assuming he can spare the manpower. Clearly, the headline here is Big Man Needs Peace of Mind. “Excessive, probably. Anyone watching out for bald eagles?” “There’ll be someone on the roof.” He nods like he’s about to leave again. I can’t let him go without saying, “I’m sorry.” He frowns. “None of this is your fault.” “I know. But this is difficult for you, too. And he dragged your parents into it, which I can’t even imagine…” I swallow. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with this.” His teeth clench. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his face. “If I come back and something has happened to you, Serena, I’m going to be so fucking pissed.” I bite the inside of my lips. “That sounds like a you problem.” “Yeah. That it is.”

“Just shocked the Vampyre still trusts your lies, is all.” I frown. “Every lie I’ve told Misery was to protect her from—” “I’m sure your pretty little head made up a million good reasons and topped them with those gross formaldehyde cherries. Still can’t believe she lets you out of her sight.” “No one ‘lets’ me do stuff or go places,” I point out tiredly. “That’s not how it works, Koen.” “If you were mine, it would. And clearly, you fucking should be.”

“If you think I’m going to let you die, Serena, you know fuck all.”

“When I die—” “Not on my fucking watch, Serena.” “Okay. But when I die—” Koen’s fingers abruptly slide into the hair at the side of my head. Bend my neck back, none too gently. “Serena.” He stares down at me, eyes a few inches from mine. His fury is a physical, formidable thing. It doesn’t scare me. “If you say anything like that ever again, I’m going to kill you myself. Understood?” It likely speaks of how much my sanity has devolved that I exhale a laugh. “Got it.”

“Anything that’s going to happen to you,” he promises, voice honest and pitched low in the swish of the breeze, “is going to be over my dead body.”

“If today was my last day, I’d be happy to have spent it with you.”

He easily resigned himself to a lifetime without her, but… Simply put, he is unwilling to contemplate a universe in which she no longer exists.

“Feel free to stop acting with reckless disregard for your life.” “Aw. Thank you. Anything else I’m allowed to do, Alpha?” His hand comes up to snatch my chin. “You could be fucking good, for once.” “I can try?”

“I should go to sleep,” I say. “Okay. Which room?” “Um, mine?” “Okay. We’ll sleep there.” “We?” “We.” My eyebrow lifts. “Uh-oh. Celibacy Threat Alert.” His look withers me, and every garden on the continent. “I’m going to stay in human form and monitor your temperature. We’ll catch your fevers early, and they won’t get as bad as they did last night.” I open my mouth to say, I don’t want to put you out. I can take care of myself. It’s fine. But maybe it’s not. Maybe I can take care of myself, but I don’t mind some help. Maybe he wants to be put out. Maybe this is equally for him and for me. So what I settle on is “Thank you.” I let my head roll back on the cushion. Meet his shoulder. Don’t bother hiding the way I’m burying my nose in the soft, worn flannel. He doesn’t mind: I can practically taste his satisfaction and relief at not having to fight me on this. It’s a sweet, joyful flavor against the roof of my mouth. “You know, your room might be better.” “Why?” “Comfier bed. Tub.” I blink a few times. Leave my eyes closed. “Smells like you.” He grumbles something low that I can’t make out. Before I can ask him to repeat himself, I’m already sound asleep.

“I think I’d have you bite me right under my jaw. People would glance at it and think that it’s obscene. But they’d immediately know who I belong to.”