Mate (Bride, #2) (21)

“I was a child.”

“You were seventeen.”

But she won’t stop protesting, and snarls that I’m “too valuable, too important, too loved” to be used as bait. God. What an inconvenient time for her to finally get in touch with her emotions.

“I’m not suicidal,” I tell everyone, “nor am I suggesting I walk unarmed into Vampyre headquarters. We can safely arrange to— ” I stop to hide a yawn in my palm, and that’s when Koen declares the meeting over and stands.

“I’m taking her to bed.” It speaks to his authority that not a single eyebrow lifts.

My abused feet make contact with the floor, and I grit my teeth. Koen instantly picks me up, one strong arm snaked around my rib cage as he presses me to his side, toes dangling a few inches from the ground.

It’s undignified. And pathetically befits my status in life.

“Once again, I am capable of walking,” I murmur against his shoulder.

His beard bristles against the tender skin of my temple, ticklish but pleasant. He runs much warmer than me. The wonders of genetics not split between species with wildly different baseline temperatures.

“I heard rumors but dared not believe them.” He walks through the first door on the right. There is a bit of shuffling me in his arms, then he pulls back the covers and deposits me on a soft mattress, between sheets that smell like lavender. “Show me tomorrow, after your soles have healed.”

“It’ll be the performance of a lifetime.” I shiver at the sudden chill and pull the hem of his hoodie down my bare thighs.

I feel, once again, that something about Koen. How imposing he is. The kind of menacing that colors the air around him for miles. It comes not from height and muscles, but from something else, something undefinable with Human words— the only ones I have.

Vocabulary. That’s what stands between me and understanding Koen.

Maybe with time, I tell myself.

And then reply, What time, Serena?

“You get it, right? Why I want to take the attention off Ana?”

Downstairs, he didn’t say much— just sat next to me, a quiet, dark center of intense energy. It’s not that I want his approval, especially after he made it clear that he couldn’t care less about mine. But the others’

opposition to my plan is not rational. It comes from some soft place, deep within their bellies. Misery loves me, and so does Lowe, if only for some spousal transitive property. Being in charge, though, means constructing complex trade-offs. And Koen is nothing if not in charge.

“Yes. This is for you.” He deposits a satellite phone I’ve never seen before on the nightstand and holds my eyes disapprovingly as he plugs the charger into the outlet.

Shit. Did he try to call to warn me about Bob earlier today? I’ll never know, ’cause my phone was dead and I left it back at the cabin. Should I

reiterate that I am, in fact, able to take care of battery-operated devices?

“Thank you. For this.”

“You already thanked me, and I told you— not big into gratitude. Either return the favor by coming to my house and dusting the light fixtures, or shut up.”

“No, this is not about saving my life.” I sit up on my heels. “Thank you for taking my side. About Ana.”

“Is that your takeaway?” He scoffs. “I’m not taking your side, Serena.”

“Downstairs, you didn’t object.”

“I didn’t object because I don’t need to. It’s upstanding of Lowe and the Vampyre to try to convince you not to do something idiotic.” His eyes bore into mine and he leans forward, palms against the mattress, caging my thighs. He’s a wall of heat, all forest scent. This close, I could easily trace all the little scars on his face. “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.”

“This is not self-immolation. It’s a strategy— putting oneself in danger in order to gain something. Taking one for the team. Like Misery did when she married Lowe.”

Koen’s eyebrows rise. “Those two are sickeningly in love. Whatever she’s taking, it’s not for the team.”

I wince. “Thank you for this highly disturbing mental image of my sister

— ”

“You’re welcome.”

“— and yes, it worked out great, but she could have gotten mangled and eaten. She could be hanging out with Lowe’s gut bacteria. We all make sacrifices. Look at Lowe— he’s my age and has to take care of a whole-ass pack. You’re like, thirty-five, had much longer to grow accustomed to your role.”

His expression clouds. “I’m not thirty-five, Serena.”

I flush and scan his sculpted, complicated face. He doesn’t look old, just like he’s been through shit. “It’s the whole”— I lift my hand to his face, gently stroking his beard— “um, facial hair and stuff. Ages you. I could trim your hair, it’d take me ten minutes, tops. I used to do it for Misery— ”

“I’m thirty- six. Even more decrepit than you thought.”