Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“As far as offers go, Bob, this one is lazy as fuck.”

“See, this is how you make a deal. I knew you had it in you, Bob.”

His scent blooms in my nostrils, safe, grounding, so breathtakingly perfect

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen,” he says simply.

“The gist of this,” I summarize, as though taking minutes for a meeting, “is that you find me attractive.” “That might be the dictionary definition of ‘understatement,’ but yes.”

Koen is not hitting on me. He’s not trying to cha-cha real smooth into my life.

“You’re my closest friend’s husb—mate’s closest friend. And I’d love to get along with you. So maybe we could be, you know, friends.” “What about polite acquaintances?” he counters. I cannot tell whether he’s serious, so I nod. “Deal. And you may quietly pine after me, if you must.”

“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.

This is Koen in a nutshell. Mocking and unreadable and maybe even a little cruel. He does, however, get shit done.

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

There are only that many kidnapping and murder attempts a child can endure before developing serious issues and self-destructive behaviors. We wouldn’t want her to grow up and, say, go to grad school.”

“I’m simply going to lock you up, killer. If I have to chain you to my fucking bed to keep you alive, I will not hesitate.”

“Poor squirrels, getting chased up the gutter.” “Squirrels have it coming. Smug little shits,” he grumbles.

“Don’t leave. Did we offend you?” I pout—until I spot the squirrel he’s chasing. “Those fuckers,” Koen mutters, clearly empathizing.

Her laughter adjusts the spin of his atoms.

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 even if all that’s left of the pack is me and her. I will paint this entire territory green before I let anyone in the pack spill a single drop of red. Okay?”

I beg the god of physiologically dysregulated bitches with sleep disorders to keep him away for ten more minutes.

I have an idea—one that no sane person would entertain, but that’s no longer my side of the Venn diagram.

I get to chill in wolf form. Pay attention to forest noises. Growl at the squirrels. It’s everyone’s favorite kind of duty.

“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.”

What kind of dumbass rule is this??

“That’s some grade A compartmentalization.” “Thanks.” I toss my hair back. “It’s the childhood trauma.”

“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.”

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.

Well, fuck.

But Koen commands “Stay still” and does something very weird. Swipes the hair away from the back of my neck. Angles my head down an inch or two. Bends to run the flat of his tongue against the first few vertebrae of my spine. And I fucking die. “Oh my God.” The sound I let out is indecent.

God. It’s like being told that baby carrots are just regular ones peeled to be smaller: I should have realized what was going on a long time ago, but I didn’t, and now I feel stupid.

You wake up and the first thing you do is…?” “Chase that squirrel we discussed.”

I want you to tell me what you need, and I want the privilege of giving it to you. I want you to use me.”

“It’s hard to keep my hands off you, killer. And you never wear anything under my shirts—” “I hate bras.” “I hate them, too. My afterlife will just be me, watching you move around my house in nothing but my clothes. Knowing that you’re warm and fed and safe and so damn soft.”

Her tone is so perfectly sensible, I briefly feel guilty about acting rudely. Then I remember that I’ve been abducted and swear that if I make it out of this alive, I’ll go back to therapy and divest myself from my people-pleasing tendencies.

Her happiness matters to me, more than being able to say that I am the cause of it.

My instincts don’t really lean toward the aesthetics and architectural integrity of nesting.” I frown. “What instincts do you have?” “They are much less wholesome.”

“In a matter of days, you’re going to leave, and I’ll spend the rest of my life as your fucking servant. Whatever you ask me for, you’ll have. But here you are. Defenseless. Mine for a short time.”

“Serena,” he breathes out against my cheekbone. “I think this might be it, for me.”

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.

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.

This mate business—does it feel like I have you in my palm? Like we’re tethered to each other? Like I changed you at the nuclear level? Asking for a friend.

“Whatever you need, you have to come to me. It’s a fucking order.” His voice is strained. “I don’t care where you are. I don’t care what it is. I want you to promise me that for anything you—” “I promise, Koen.”

I’ve never had a family to disappoint before, and it’s a bit of a power trip. Lots of fun. I don’t understand what Misery has been going on about.

Perfection. His mate is perfect. He’ll massacre whoever tries to take her from him, of course.

He would die for her, and he would kill for her. More importantly, he will live for her. She’ll be the purpose driving every second of his every day.