Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“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.”

baby’s first mass murder—in which I partook as the murderer;

“Not to kill your buzz, but I doubt you get to claim a Mass Murderer commemorative coin if it was in self-defense.”

“Maybe there was permanent damage. That would explain it.” “Explain what?” “The many things that are wrong with you.”

Big Bad Murderous Wolf in Charge of Thousands Cannot Handle Girl Crying.

“an interspecific cross” (Latin for freak, I believe)

I’ve seen him smile only once, and it was a terrifying process, like he’d learned how to move his facial muscles from a book.

So nice, to discover that the dude who’d told me I was his mate was impalement happy.

He may have just threatened to macerate me, but at least he’s funny about it. “You heard the plot twist, then?”

“Oh, yes, the ultimate suicidal activity. Opening my own mail.”

“Don’t criticize my looks. It hurts my feelings.” “Your what?” I ask. Koen gives me a deadpan look.

“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.”

Her laughter adjusts the spin of his atoms.

“Misery Lark.” I nod. “She’s my sister.” “She’s a leech.” “True. And therefore, not the slam dunk insult you believe it to be. But if you have more biographical facts about Misery you want to get off your chest, by all means.”

“Play-fight is an honored Were pastime.” “I guess not everyone has the knees for pickleball.”

He even has his own private fight club—the dream of every thirty-six-year-old teenaged man.

And this is Xabier.

Okay, come on, do we really need to be making names up like this? Just go with Xavier

He looks at me like I’m not just insulting his intelligence, but also lowering the IQ of the entire pack.

His look withers me, and every garden on the continent.

Two minutes and a greenish, flustered Sem later,

Here we see more about how they blush with green blood. At least it was something Ali Hazelwood acknowledged a lot more, even if I still think it’s incredibly weird.

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.

the coppery tinge of fresh Were blood, so different from the iron of mine.

Is that different??? Ask me to distinguish the smell of copper vs iron and I can’t, they’re all just… metal

Every single ingredient that one might need to make pancakes has been taken out of the cupboards and neatly laid on the counter. A few that one might not, too. “Out of curiosity, at what point in the process do you think ketchup becomes involved?” Saul shrugs. “For the stuffing, maybe?” “Ah, yes. The famed pancake stuffing. That’s where the capers go, too?”

We are Weres, right?” Encouraging nods. “But why are we part wolves? Why are there no werebutterflies, or werecrabs? What’s so special about wolves?” Three pairs of eyes blink at me. Then Saul winces. “That’s just…weird, Serena.”

There is no smart when it comes to falling in love. Haven’t you learned that?”

She is meant for him, but they couldn’t be more impossible.

“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.”

Ana leaves in a peal of giggles, and I shake my head. “Wow. She learned to pronounce your name.” “It’s tragic,” she says mournfully. “Every day I do my best to delay her cognitive development and keep her a child forever, and that’s how she repays me.”

“There’s always something with you, huh,” he mumbles, for the fifth or millionth time.

Koen keeps expecting to see betrayal in the beast’s eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to have been domesticated and bedazzled. Koen can relate.