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So she buried her face in the stranger’s neck and let his slow heartbeat lull her to calm. And since she was able to, she started to count to a thousand once more.
She tore him apart and remade him. It took her less than a second.
“I may not be allowed to kill you, but I can make you hurt a whole fucking lot before I—” “Can you, though?” A male voice interrupts him.
Koen. Koen’s here. It will be all right.
“I’ll kill her if you come closer.” Koen, of course, comes closer.
“And she’s pretty, isn’t she?” I go very, very still. And so does Koen. “And right now she’s not in a position to reject anyone.” No response. “Do you get my meaning? Alpha?” Any pretense of casualness melts out of Koen’s demeanor.
“Koen, right? Nice to meet you.” I offer my hand—which he looks at but doesn’t take. Okay, I think, tucking it in my back pocket. Maybe it’s a Were thing. Maybe Koen’s hand-shaking partners must clear a certain IQ threshold, which I clearly do not.
“Guys.” Lowe’s voice startles me. I forgot he was there. “We should get back to the matter at hand.” Koen and I exchange a brief Can you believe this narc? glance.
“Does it mean that he likes me?” “Yes,” Lowe says—which perfectly covers Koen’s “No.” I frown. “Wow. This is bringing me lots of clarity. Thanks, guys.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Serena.” “Well, I’m probably going to lie to you a lot.” “Yeah?” His smile is almost charmed. “What kind of lies do you tell?”
“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.”
“The reason I decided to disappear, if that’s even a word you can use for someone whose whereabouts were never not accounted for, is that the things I had to deal with in the past year include, in chronological but not traumatogenic order”—I
baby’s first mass murder—in which I partook as the murderer;
“Ana has Lowe, and the Vampyre—” “Her name is Misery.” “—and an entire pack that is ready to die and, more productively, to kill for her.”
I’m not going to say that I can fend off whoever comes for me. However, if I know about a threat, I can prepare and take care of myself—” “I will take care of you,” he says roughly.
Koen just killed someone without batting an eye but cannot take me shedding a single teardrop. “I’m fine,” I reassure him. His alarm doesn’t abate. It’s like I’ve just been shot in front of his eyes. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m just tired.” “Then go the fuck to sleep,” he orders, panicky.
“But,” Lowe continues, “if Serena’s sister is willing to acknowledge that a lot of good can come from this, then you, too, should—” “I fucking won’t.” “That bad?” Lowe asks after a long silence. No. It’s worse than that.
Do you trust anyone at all? With your precious life, killer? How could I?
Six independent groups of scientists have confirmed that I am “an interspecific cross” (Latin for freak, I believe)
“And what do you say to those who believe that hybrids such as you are a threat to society and should be eliminated?” I smile pleasantly, like she didn’t just ask me, What’s it like when people want to watch you croak with their beady little eyes?
Without letting go of me, he uncoils to his full height. “Listen, bud,” he tells the men, at once easygoing and assertive. This is Koen, being in charge, herding people, straightening spines.
We do have sandwiches for dinner, but Koen’s the one who ends up making them, with a little help from Ana.
He deposits me on a worn-out but clean sectional and then proceeds to look down at me with a frown. “You okay?” he asks, gruff. “Anything feel…loose inside?” “Loose? Like what?” “I don’t fucking know. An artery?”
“Look who ran out of toilet paper and decided to rejoin civilization,” Misery says with a wide smile. Her pale elfin face is as close as I’ll ever get to having a home.
“Just kidding about the toilet paper,” Misery adds. “I know you people just shift into wolves and lick your own butts.”
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.”
Have they tried to kill me or Misery? No? Fantastic. Let’s have a spa day. Go zip-lining. Overshare about recurring UTIs.
“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.”
“Let me come to the Den with you. For all we know, it’s where I was born.” “You wanna be my cousin that bad, huh?”
“I really wouldn’t want to impose.” “Pretty fucking late to worry about that,” he says distractedly, continuing to make the bed.
Abruptly, the wolf dog tenses and gallops away. “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.
“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.
“That sounded mean,” I say softly. “Yeah. Unfortunately, I am mean.”
“Can’t you just play something for me?” “But that won’t make you a well-rounded young lady.” His laughter is a groan.
Mai pulls out his phone to show us a few pictures of John, who looks adorable, and a menace, and wants to be Koen when he grows up—like most children in the pack, apparently.
“He’s not,” I say distractedly. “He’s not…?” Anneke asks. “Breaking the covenant. I remain tragically unfucked.”
Okay…if you don’t tell me who you are, I’m going to scream, and someone who’s much less nice and patient than me will come out of the house—” “I can be fucking nice,” Koen says, coming to stand behind me.
“He’s the second person to die in front of me in three days, Koen.” “I know. I’m starting to think that you might be bad news, killer.”
Serena: Would you love me less if my name was Eva? Misery: Yes. Misery: But not like, by a lot.
“If you think I’m going to let you die, Serena, you know fuck all.”
“If today was my last day, I’d be happy to have spent it with you.” Koen cups the back of my head. I lean into the soft press of his lips against my brow.
“You’re not going to—fuck it.”
“You’re doing so good, killer.” “Yeah?” I whimper. “Yeah, baby.” His laughter is soft.
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.”
His features, his hair, the line of his profile—everything about him has become so dear to me, I want to bury my face in his chest and scream about it till my vocal cords give out.
He rolls his shoulders into a stretch, and I try not to stare at the masterpiece of architecture that is his back. Remind myself that he can hear my heartbeat speed up, and smell…everything.
Back in college, whenever Misery would catch me playing with the neighbor’s kids, pinching their cheeks, calling them cute, she’d roll her eyes so hard, her contacts nearly popped out. I hear they shit everywhere. And eat all your peanut butter. That’s true of you, too. Precisely. Do you really need two of me?
“What if…” I close my eyes. “What if my body is set on Koen?” What if my soul is, too. What if the idea of doing any of this with someone who isn’t him makes my stomach turn and my heart shrivel?
Dear Koen: Roses are red Violets are blue I’m about to undergo a period of enhanced sexual receptivity in which I will require the assistance of a compatible partner Could that perhaps be you?