Mate (Bride, #2) (45)
“If a bald eagle dove in from the sky to abduct you, my life would be so much easier.” His hands close around my waist. Lift me up like I’m a feather. “And fine— I’ll get more goddamn furniture.” He lingers for a fraction of a second, his nose hovering by my temple, and I hear a deep
inhale. A slower exhale. A gust of warmth against my heated skin. My forehead wants, demands, clamors to lean forward and kiss Koen’s collarbone. I manage to hold it back long enough for him to step away, and for the possibility to be removed.
Safer this way.
Remember? How he said that he didn’t care about you? When he called you a spoiled little girl? It was less than twenty-four hours ago. He’s not nice.
“I’ll get everything ready, then,” I yell after him as he saunters off. “For our little spa session.” He flips me off without glancing back. And it’s not until later, when I’m unpacking the bags and going through what we bought, that I find three important things.
The first makes me blush and roll my eyes and wish that I had a shovel to bury myself in Koen’s garden: every single pair of underwear he selected for me is red. Bright red. Dull red. Wine red. Blood red.
All.
Kinds.
Of.
Red.
I’m not equipped to process it, so I focus on the second, which makes me smile. At first, I think he may have replaced the plushie I mentioned.
Then I realize that the little pink penguin in the bag is hard, made of plastic.
A few seconds of fiddling with it tells me that it’s a pocketknife with a foldable blade.
It’s cute— and thoughtful, especially considering that I no longer have claws at my disposal. It has a different, deeper kind of heat spreading through me, and I don’t want to overthink it, so I shift my attention to the third thing.
And I stop breathing.
Because every single thing I glanced at, grazed, examined, eyed, or even considered when we were at the grocery store, every single thing I decided to walk past, every single thing I told myself I didn’t need— every single thing has somehow made it here, inside Koen’s house.
CHAPTER 14
He overhears her talking with Pavel.
“Hey, is it true that Humans put gnomes in their gardens?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s totally a thing.”
“Spine-chilling.”
Her laughter adjusts the spin of his atoms.
THEY START ARRIVING IN THE LATE AFTERNOON.
I spend several hours cross-legged on the couch, trying to reconstruct my lost letters, until the door bursts open. Two men walk inside like they were just handed the deed to the place. They’re both tall, both well muscled, and both completely naked.
“Oh, Serena. What’s up?” the first says.
The second just grins, waves at me, and bends over to stretch his hamstrings, giving me a thorough view of his butthole. “I slept wrong last night,” he moans. “Everything hurts.”
“Is that why you were so slow?”
“Fuck off. At least I have an excuse.”
I blink, wondering if this is a new symptom of CSD: vivid dreams of naked men bickering in Koen’s living room. That’s when an ash-colored wolf with thick fur and green eyes trots inside, comes to stand between me and the two men, and growls in their direction. In a quick symphony of bones cracking, keratin shrinking, and muscles unfolding, it transforms into a familiar shape.
Amanda.
Naked, of course. And pissed. “You guys are way early, and Koen doesn’t want anyone he hasn’t preapproved alone with Serena.”
“Oh. We did not . . .” The men exchange looks of sheer terror. “Sorry about this. We’re going to . . .” One points at the door.
“No, please. Stay.” I quickly hide my writing in the pages of a book and rise to my feet. “You are . . . ?”
Amanda sighs and points at the one with freckles and a spiky red mullet.
“Colin.” She switches to the barrel-chested guy who clearly skips leg day.
“Pavel.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, relieved by the lack of handshakes. “No, really. I’m glad you came over. I’m even getting used to your junk just . . .
dangling there.”
Colin cocks his head. “Is it not supposed to?”
“Maybe Human genitals are usually retracted?” Pavel suggests.
“Ah, yes. In those cloacal openings.” Colin nods knowingly. “Like koalas and alligators.”
“Precisely. Now that I think about it, I remember reading somewhere that Humans shit and piss from the same ho— ”
“Guys,” Amanda snaps. “Do you want Koen to come back and find you here?”
They pale. Colin clears his throat. “Actually, we’re pretty hungry. We’ll go hunt some dinner and be back later— ”
“I can fix you something,” I offer. A vein starts pulsating on Amanda’s forehead, so I hasten to add, “I wasn’t doing anything, anyway. And, Amanda, you’re here and you’re preapproved. Koen won’t mind.”
In fact, Koen’s behavior is less predictable than a stock market crash.
But a little over an hour later, when he returns to find Amanda and five more of his now-clothed seconds eating meatballs, salad, and freshly baked bread, no one ends up impaled on his claws. They all scramble to their feet to salute as he comes in, like he’s the strictest teacher at the boarding school, but return to their meal and conversation quickly enough.