Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“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.”

He does, no questions asked—kneeling briefly to plug my damn charger into the damn socket. I pretend not to see it, and close the door.

“I’m glad Misery is in good hands.” “And vice versa.” I tilt my head. “It doesn’t bother you that she’s a Vampyre?” “They obviously care for each other.” He sounds as though nothing else would ever factor into his approval, which I find very endearing.

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

Koen confuses me just by breathing the same air.

“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 meant what I said, killer. This mate thing is about fucking. The part of me that matters isn’t interested in you. Like me, or don’t,” he says kindly. “I really couldn’t care less.”

“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.”

We do have sandwiches for dinner, but Koen’s the one who ends up making them, with a little help from Ana.

“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.”

“She’s an adult Were who doesn’t require coddling,” Koen interrupts. Once again, a bit jarring to hear, especially as he rolls thick, soft socks up my shins. They reach just below my knees. I might just go to my deathbed wearing them.

“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.”

“Maybe we could hunt together. Find some game. Fill that belly of yours.” His eyes lower to my stomach, and I’m suddenly hot.

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.

“I have a cousin. Looking at her does not feel like looking at you.”

“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.

“Please. Let me make you pretty.” “I’m already pretty. I’m fucking stupendous.”

“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.”

He lingers for a fraction of a second, his nose hovering by my temple, and I hear a deep inhale. A slower exhale. A gust of warmth against my heated skin.

every single pair of underwear he selected for me is red. Bright red. Dull red. Wine red. Blood red.

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.

Her laughter adjusts the spin of his atoms.

“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.”

“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 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 laugh, and it makes his mouth twitch upward in a curve that is so…so charming, I need to trace it.

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.

“Walk slowly to the washing machine and get rid of the clothes.” His voice pins me to the ground. Something builds in my belly. “Do not make me chase after you.”

“Hey,” I say. His nostrils work. “Hey, killer.” I clear my throat. “You look so much more dignified, now that I’ve de-shed you. Cuter, too. Just like that hot guy. From that movie.” “What movie?” “All of them.” I wet my lips. Look down at my toes.

“I love it when you talk about me like I’m the ultimate escape room. Tell me more.” “You’ll see when we get there. Give me five to shower.” He heads for his room. Stops. “And, killer?” “What?” “Tuck that T-shirt in your pants. It’ll look less like it’s mine.”

He wants to be with her for each marveled intake of breath.

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?”

“Because the idea of having you out of my sight makes me want to flip those cars one by one.”

“Before I leave, I think I need to hold you for a minute.”

You’re doing amazing, Serena. Eva. Killer. Whoever you are.

Close enough that his scent becomes my entire universe. Close enough for me to see little freckles on his skin, to count the scars that crisscross all over his torso.

He bends further, and there isn’t a single trace of doubt on his face. He’s an immovable object and an unstoppable force. And he says, slowly, “If you think I’m going to let you die, Serena, you know fuck all.”

“When I die—” “Not on my fucking watch, Serena.”

“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.”

I think that in a parsley-shaped world, he and I would have had some fun.

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.

I would give a year of my life, a year I don’t even have, to press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

I would do illegal, maybe even unethical things, in exchange for the right to bury my nose in the crook of his throat, where the scent of him is densest.

Well, fuck.

“You’re not going to—fuck it.” He carries me to bed, sits on the edge of the mattress, and pulls me down between his spread legs, facing away from him.

“Yeah, baby.” His laughter is soft. Wound up. “I’m trying to come up with a list of things I wouldn’t do just to be allowed to eat your cunt right now, and I can’t think of a single item.”

“How perfect you are. I spent the last twenty years hoping that if there was a mate for me out there, I’d never come across them. And then I found you, and, Serena…there isn’t one thing I would change about you. Or one single thing I regret about knowing you.”

“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.”

I’m starting to get the whole gland thing, because running my tongue over it is like tasting Koen’s scent. The most potent, most perfect narcotic exploding right into my bloodstream.

“Fuck the covenant. I want to be so deep in your cunt, you’d be squirming to breathe—”

“I’ve never been less sorry about a thing.” Koen kisses me on the forehead. His hold never loosens, and we both fall asleep.