Mate (Bride, #2) (11)

“Is she— ”

“Okay, yes. Bob was able to track you through your sat phone and followed you up north. There was no information on Ana. But Alex planted some to lure the other jizzmuffin deeper into Southwest territory.”

“And?”

“Lowe killed him, of course. But prior to his . . . untimely demise, Lowe’s mate did that”— he makes a vague circular motion— “hypnosis thing on him.”

“What hypnosis— Oh. The thrall?”

“Yeah. That.” Koen’s expression clearly states, Not a fan. It’s a common Were feeling.

“So Misery thralled Jizzmuffin? What did he say?”

“A member of the Vampyre council is offering several life-changing amounts of money for a hybrid.”

“Which member?”

“The fact-finding didn’t get that far. Either Jizzmuffin didn’t know, or Lowe got impatient and graduated early to the massacre part of the night.”

That’s unfortunate, but I’m inordinately proud. “Good on Misery. And to think that she used to say I was the only person she could competently

thrall.” Koen’s glare is bemused, so I hurry to explain, “Consensually. She practiced on me when we were kids.”

“She practiced on you.”

“Of course. How else was she supposed to learn? She needed a brain to train on, and mine was right there.”

“Maybe there was permanent damage. That would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“The many things that are wrong with you.”

I frown. “Like what?”

“Your self-imposed isolation. How much weaker you’ve gotten since I last saw you. The fact that you smell exhausted. Your affinity for lies. Your refusal to shift even when your life depends on it— ”

“You know,” I challenge him mildly, “if you’re accusing me of something, you can just come out and say it.”

“Nah. It’s more fun to corner you into admitting it.” He clearly has feelings about what happened tonight. They include frustration, worry, anger, and even a hint of distrust. I’m not sure how I know, since his stony profile hasn’t moved a millimeter. Maybe I’m getting better at guessing others’ emotions by scent, like a real Were.

Look at me, the little hybrid that could.

“There is nothing to admit,” I say blandly. “Do you think Bob told anyone about our locations?”

“No. He’s an idiot who entered Northwest territory on his own.”

“Was.”

“Was,” Koen concedes, disturbingly pleased. Were justice is swift and brutal, and the Northwest’s most of all. The pack is known for spending more time in wolf form than others, for being vicious beyond what is necessary to maintain their borders, and for holding grudges. The Northwest has fewer members than the Southwest, but its territory is wider and more remote. Which is why, when I decided that I needed to be alone, it seemed like the best option.

But now that I have Koen breathing down my neck, I’m rethinking things.

“You’re tired, and we have a long drive,” he says, abruptly changing the topic. “Go to sleep.”

I am tired. But: “What are we going to do about Ana?”

He frowns in surprise. “I told you, Ana is fine.”

“Ana is seven. We need to have a plan in place to protect her.”

“We?”

“We,” I repeat. When I was seven, I was an orphan. When I was seven, nothing but horrible things happened around me. Too much of this hits too close to home, and I don’t want her to ever feel like I used to.

“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 should help, too. I can— ”

“Serena.” There is an edge to his voice. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Did you hit your head earlier?”

“What?” I instinctively massage the back of my skull. “I don’t think so.

Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what caused the memory loss.”

“I don’t have— ”

“Clearly you forgot that you were assaulted about forty-five minutes ago.”

“I didn’t.”

“Really? That’s fucking great.” There is a deep V between his dark, reflective eyes, one that makes his scars pop. “Then I won’t have to remind you that you’re twenty times more at risk than Ana is.”

“That’s not true.”

“Ana is the sister of an Alpha, and her existence is a well-kept secret.

You have no family, no pack, no influence, no resources— you don’t even have a home. You are virtually alone in the world, and you’ve been under surveillance your entire life, which makes predicting your next move very easy for a specific contingent of people. And don’t forget that for the last few months, your face has been plastered on every single news segment all over the world. Now, for a thought experiment: If someone decides that they want to play mad scientist with a hybrid, who do you think they’ll go for, killer?”

Koen is angry— whether at my stupidity or at being saddled with me, I’m not sure. Still, the depth of my lack of . . . of everything is not something I want to contemplate at the moment. “You are correct,” I say calmly, feeling a burning pressure behind my eyes. “And I’m not going to