Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“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.”

“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.”

“I hope I don’t sound conceited, but…how is it different from the reaction of most Human men I’ve met?” I cringe the instant the words are out. “God. I do sound conceited. I’m sorry. I promise I don’t walk around thinking that my face launches a thousand erections—” “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen,” he says simply.

uncomfortable and dangerous. Maybe it’s a good thing, Misery said skeptically, noticing the way Mr. Elrod would track my movements. Maybe it means that you’re beautiful? I doubt men twice my age looking at me is a proxy for anything other than them wanting to take advantage.

“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.”

“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.

And for a few hours, I don’t think about how little time I have left to live.

“So…why are their parents still alive?” Koen asks. His leadership philosophy seems to be if inconvenient, why not dead?

“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.” I refuse to cower backward. “You really are a dick.” Well, duh, his gaze clearly states. “If you’re into self-immolation and dying, I can easily arrange it for you. No need to involve other species.”

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.

“A fuckboy. Just, you know. A boy. Who fucks.” God, Misery’s right. Some things simply do not translate to the Weres. “What I’m trying to say is, he told me that nothing would happen between us on the day we first met. And I’m not about to try to disintegrate his free will with my magic cunt. Okay?”

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.”

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 meant—having you this way. Exposed. Pinned.” His hand slips to cup my head. He kisses my lips, gentle. “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.”

“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.”

Can I just say—I’ve had a lot of time to consider recent revelations, and I’m not at all surprised that you come from a long line of cult leaders. You’ve talked me into so much weird shit through the years, and I always wondered why I kept falling for it.”

“No, Serena, I’m talking. Remember when you didn’t tell me you were a Were? And we agreed that you should have? Clearly you learned nothing. You acted selfishly again. And you know what? I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you shouldering everything like you’re the fucking guy with the stone.” “Sisyphus?” “No—the other guy.” “King Arthur?” “No, the asshole who carries the planet.” “Atlas!” “Yes!”