Mate (Bride, #2) (88)

And this is how it all fits together. This is the crux of the issue, and why I can finally make sense of it all.

To Koen, the covenant is not something that’s been imposed by the huddle leaders— an arbitrary, unjust restraint. To him, it’s a guarantee that history won’t repeat itself. And that guarantee has never mattered more than it does now, with the cult threatening the Northwest once again.

And the last thing I want is to ask him to make an impossible choice.

So I reach out. Run my hand through his hair, trying not to sigh at the way he leans into it, like my skin is his North Star. “You know me as a liar, but . . .” Laughter bubbles out of me, sticky. “Can I try honesty? For once?”

He nods, patient, open, in the morning air, like he rarely is. Making it so easy.

“I like you more than anyone I’ve met since Misery. And when I’m with you, I feel . . . a little less like half of two things, and a little more whole.

And when you touch me, it feels right. So right that I forget it’s wrong. I forget that you’re the heart of this pack. I forget that thousands of people rely on you, and that every moment I spend with you, I’m taking something away from them.” I manage a labored gulp. My throat is tight and dry. “So this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to walk in there and take the drugs Layla gives me. This Heat won’t happen. And as soon as the issues with the Vampyre council are officially over and Ana is safe, which will be any day now . . . I’ll go back to the Southwest, where I won’t be keeping you from the people who need you. And you and I . . . we’ll make sure to avoid each other in the next few decades. Won’t we?”

Koen doesn’t nod, but I smell his assent. His head bends for a long, silent moment. When he looks up, his eyes are emptier than the space between the ocean and the cliffs.

And all he says is “Layla is waiting for you. You should go.”





CHAPTER 28

It’s odd, what her absence does to him. She is missing, but she fills and floods every part of his life.

IGIVE MYSELF A FEW MINUTES TO CRY IT OUT, THEN HEAD FOR my appointment.

Saul is leaning against his car, laughing with a young blond woman I have yet to meet. When she notices me, her eyes double in size, the Is that the halfling? expression that I’ve grown accustomed to. “Give me a sec, Jess,” he says, and jogs up to me.

“Koen left,” I tell him. “I’m going to head in and talk to Layla.”

“Okey-doke.” The corners of his eyes crease with concern. I don’t need a mirror to know that mine are red rimmed, but Saul saw me disappear behind the building with Koen and has enough pieces to put together an exhaustive picture. “Do you know how long it’ll take?”

“Not sure.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be here, waiting. And hey, maybe later . . .” He leans forward. Winks at me in a conspiratorial way that has me bracing for what’s to come. I don’t know if I can deal with Saul now— his compassion, his kindness, his terrible music. Where is Brenna when I want to be bitch-slapped back to my senses by an expert?

“It’s okay, Saul, I— ”

“Maybe later we can discuss that werecrab thing?”

I frown. “You seemed pretty opposed thirty minutes ago.”

“Well, I had to. You know how Amanda and Koen are.”

“And how’s that?”

“Sticks in the mud. Unimaginative. But the werecrab thing has potential.

And I’ve been thinking of writing a book, so— ”

I wave him off, give the woman my least Human smile, and walk into the building.

The waiting room is deserted. I knock at the same office as yesterday.

After a few seconds I hear Layla’s feeble “Come in.”

Weird, I think, wrapping my hand around the doorknob.

So I let go of it. Take a step back. Why is this weird? My instincts tell me that something’s off. And by now, enough disturbing shit has happened that humoring my instincts feels less like indulgence and more like necessity.

I dig into my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the penguin knife.

With my other hand, I unlock my phone and pull up Koen’s contact to—

Acute, piercing pain bites into my hand. My phone flies into the air.

“I don’t believe so,” a voice says from behind me.

I spin on my heels. It’s the blond girl— Jess. And she kicked my hand so hard, it might be broken.

I look around. My phone landed beyond the reception desk, so out of reach, it might as well be on the moon with the werecrabs. I hold on to my knife and scream at the top of my lungs, “Saul! ”

“Saul’s taking a nap. Let the boy rest.”

I’m willing to— if only because Jess expects nothing from me, which puts me in a good position to slam the right side of my body against her and nick her with my knife.

“You little fucking— ” She tries to twist my wrist, but I free myself with a kick, get in another stab, and dart outside. That’s when the door to the office opens, and another Were runs out. I realize that Jess is not acting alone, and that I’m fucked.

I throw my self-defense kitchen sink at them, but the most it buys me is a three-foot escape before I’m recaptured. I kick, bite, cry out for help, but I’m quickly muffled with a sweaty palm and dragged inside the office.