Mate (Bride, #2) (32)
“How long have you been here?” I ask him.
He lifts a shoulder. Widens his arms. “What is time?”
“How much did you hear?”
“I don’t know. Everything?”
I frown. “Pretty sure being Alpha of this pack doesn’t give you a pass to eavesdrop on people.”
“Pretty sure being Alpha of this pack gives me a pass to run people through the paper shredder and make dinosaur-shaped nuggies out of what’s left.”
He may have just threatened to macerate me, but at least he’s funny about it. “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.”
“How do you know?”
“I have a cousin. Looking at her does not feel like looking at you.”
I glance down, hot all of a sudden. Hang on. Am I flattered? None of what he just said could be construed as nice.
“Come on.” He directs me with his head. “We’re leaving.”
“For where? You’re not taking me back to the Southwest, right?” I ask as I rise.
“We’ll see.”
“Koen.” I hurry down the stairs after him. “You said that if I told you the truth, you’d go along with my plan.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.” I fist my hand in his flannel. It looks like yesterday’s, but green, and without Vampyre blood. “Please,” I say when he graces me with his
gaze. He’s standing in my space. Or maybe I’m in his. “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 roll my eyes. “You know, being all secretive and mastermind-y is not really as charming as you— ”
“Relax. I’m not taking you back to the Southwest.” He must know that I’m this close to hugging him, because he leans closer and orders, “Dial it down.”
“What?”
“That look— like I’m about to take you to the shelter to pick out a new kitten. It’s not going to be fun. I won’t put you up in another isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere.”
“Where are we going, then?”
“You said you want to be bait.” His smile is anything but pleased. “Time to put you on a hook, killer.”
“YOU NEED TO EAT,” HE SAYS ONCE THE CAR IS OUT OF THE driveway.
I stare up at the hemlock-spruces that line the road, nose pressed against the cool glass, and murmur, “I’m good.”
The thing about this place is: the farther north we push, the more beautiful it gets. Dramatic. A little mysterious. Lush and rich. I spot a million shades of green. Everything towers. Endless jutting trees, spongy moss, water flowing always, everywhere, vibrant and otherworldly and so alive, it makes me feel alive, too.
“You’re lots of things, and good is not one of them.”
I glance at Koen, who’s not unlike the landscape: outdoorsy and remote and moody. Wild and overcast. “Must be nice,” I muse.
“What?”
“Being you. Knowing everything.”
“It is, yeah,” he agrees.
“Any other unfulfilled strata in my pyramid of need that I should know about?”
“You’re sleep deprived. A little dehydrated. But the hunger is what concerns me the most.”
“I told you. My appetite has been— ”
“Low. That’s fine. We’ll find something you can keep down.”
Behaviors like this used to be an instant date-ender— Yeah, you do want another drink; I promise you’ll love this movie; You need someone who really gets you, babe, let me take care of you. But with Koen, they don’t really faze me. Maybe it’s because with my exes it felt like posturing, little kids playing dress-up. Koen, though, takes care of thousands of people. His job, his vocation, the mission statement of his entire life is to figure out what the Weres in his territory need. It’s not so far-fetched that he could take on one more person. Even if I might just be the most burdensome yet.
“Are we ever going back to the cabin where I was staying?”
“No. It’s hours away.” He scowls. “Why? Want to bring flowers to Bob’s grave?”
“First of all, you left Bob’s corpse in the very place where it dropped.
He’s probably been eaten by the beavers.”
“Eh. Beavers are discerning.”
“Secondly, no. It’s just, all my stuff is there.”
“Your what?”
“My clothes.”
“I’m sure we can buy you a new burlap sack.”
“Okay, well . . . Thank you. But I have other stuff there that I can’t replace.”
“Like what?”
I quickly cast around for a good answer. The infamous sat phone? My sports drinks? Neither is worth driving hours for. Maybe the strong painkillers that Dr. Henshaw gave me for when things get really bad, Serena. And they will. But I cannot tell Koen about them, just like I cannot tell him what I really want to go back for.