Mate (Bride, #2) (119)

“Koen.” I smile.

He leans forward. I should be scared. I’m just not.

“I love you,” I say simply.

His eyes close. “You are mine. My mate. My— ”

“More importantly, you love me. And that’s why you have no authority over me.” I reach up to caress his face with the back of my hand. Let my arm fall limp at my side, suddenly cold.

When I turn around, I meet Amanda’s eyes, and we nod at each other.

THE PLAN FALLS INTO PLACE LIKE A WELL-CHOREOGRAPHED DANCE.

The following day, Amanda and I are escorted to the territory of the easternmost huddle. Anneke, its leader, meets us under the tall trees on the riverside and welcomes me with a curious tilt of her head. “I hope you know what you got yourself into,” she tells me. When Koen and Saul get out of the front seats, she bows her head. “Alpha. I’ll take her from here.”

“Yeah. Give us a minute.”

Anneke and Amanda take a step back, and Saul feels my upper arm for the GPS tracker embedded in my flesh. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

I shake my head.

“Good. It’s a little bit reddened, but that’s for the best, since it’ll make it easier to notice for Irene. If it hurts— ”

“Shut it, Saul,” Koen grumbles. “She’s an adult Were and doesn’t need you fussing over her.”

Saul’s eyebrow perks up. “Excuse me, Alpha. I must have misheard when you threatened to chain her to the radiator to prevent her from stubbing her toe.”

“She is my mate,” Koen snarls. “I get to treat her like she’s made of mother-of- pearl. You do not.”

Saul hugs me, wishes me good luck, and disappears from Koen’s sight at record speed. Then it’s just us. Across the sky, a bird of prey calls in a loud, descending pitch.

“I should have,” Koen mutters. In the sunlight, his eyes look darker than usual.

“What?”

“Chained you to my fucking radiator. I still could. I will.”

I laugh. “No, you won’t. But I’ll be all right. They don’t know I can shift again. If things get dangerous, I can always run.”

He clenches his teeth. “If anything happens to you, I’m going to— ”

“Kill me, yes. I know the drill by now.” I would love to hug him, but Anneke is right behind me, and she’s part of the Assembly. I don’t want to make things harder for him. “I think it’s gonna work, Koen. We’ll get rid of this threat, and we’ll . . . move on.” I smile. More or less. “Consider it my parting gift to the Northwest.”

“You already gave the Northwest enough.”

I swallow thickly. “I like to think that I simply didn’t take away one of its most attractive features.” It’s not funny. Neither of us is laughing. The pangs in my chest feel more like stab wounds.

“Sure.” He exhales. “I have to go, Serena. Before I chain you somewhere for real.”

I nod, willing away the full, prickling feeling at the back of my throat.

Watch Koen spin around and put some distance between us.

But he stops.

Takes a deep, shoulder-heaving breath.

Turns again and marches back to me, taking my face in his palms and pressing our lips together.

It’s a simple, bruising, marking kiss. My fingers grip his wrists, and he smells like we never left his cabin. We’re still in our nest, measuring each other’s breathing. Marveling at how quickly we fall into rhythm.

“Whatever you need, you have to come to me. It’s a fucking order.” His voice is strained. “I don’t care where you are. I don’t care what it is. I want you to promise me that for anything you— ”

“I promise, Koen.”

He nods. Fills his lungs with air. Shakes his head. “Fucking nuisance,”

he mutters, and then he’s walking, driving away.

Amanda and I enter Anneke’s car.

MY GRANDFATHER’S HOUSE HAS BEEN EMPTY FOR NEARLY FIVE DECADES. The outside, however, looks surprisingly intact, and no one seems to have initiated a stone-throwing contest toward the living room windows.

“Could I claim this property?” I ask, standing on the balcony. “Does it belong to me?”

“Technically, everything on pack territory belongs to the pack itself,”

Anneke’s assistant tells me, a little pedantic. We should introduce her to

Jorma, Amanda whispered to me earlier, after she offered us a croissant and pronounced it like we were fine dining in Toulouse.

“Is anyone taking care of this place?”

“Yes. People will stay here occasionally, mostly when they are between residences. They would be welcome to move in, but . . .”

“They know it’s the house where Constantine’s father was born and don’t want to commit?”

She nods.

“Fair enough. There’s probably lots of black mold in those walls.” It would certainly explain the family history.

“It’s also very close to the border,” she points out. “Over there, that line of trees? That’s Human territory. Very well patrolled, and we haven’t had issues in a long time. But . . .”

“Interesting.” I pretend to be learning something new. “Thank you for showing me.”