Текст книги "Mate"

Автор книги: Ali Hazelwood

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

CHAPTER 19

Just this once, he could have done without being right.

DO YOU LIVE HERE?” I ASK. IN THE AFTERNOON SUN, I HAVE TO squint to properly make him out. I guess he could be Sem’s brother– several years younger, similar hair color. Slim build and soft, boyish jawline. He doesn’t seem hostile. But he also doesn’t feel like he belongs to this place that smells like moss and brine.

I don’t lower my knife. “Who are you?”

He slowly looks up at me, a smudge of soil on his forehead, another on his cheekbone. “Oh, your eyes. They are so familiar to me.”

I take a step back. Quickly glance around, wondering if I should call for Koen. Except, would Koen kill this boy? Yes, probably. “I need you to tell me who you are,” I demand.

“What a joy. To speak with you. To be with you.”

What. The. Fuck. “I mean, sure. You should feel lucky, but . . . do I know you?”

He straightens further, whispering something that ends up swallowed by the breeze and the waves. Slowly, he stands, holding out his hand. When I change my defensive grip to something that could do some real damage, he remains undeterred. “Come with me,” he says.

His voice is warm, coupled with a smile that is . . . unhinged, I should say. But this boy doesn’t seem like a crazed nutjob. He’s coherent. Kind. Looks at me like we used to play hopscotch together and like someone told him that my boogers are made of emeralds. So unabashedly adoring, I clutch my weapon tighter.

“Don’t be afraid. We knew he would take you here.”

“Who’s we?”

“You must have felt so alone.”

“If you come any closer, I will stab you.” I pointedly lower my eyes to his dick, which swings between his legs like the world’s wrinkliest Christmas ornament. “Wherever it’s most convenient.”

His smile softens. “I understand your reservations, but I am not afraid, and neither should you be. The moment has come. You were made, and so it has begun. His domain will flourish, and– ”

“Stop with the Bible camp talk.” I clench my teeth. “Did you call me Eva? Earlier?”

“It’s the name by which I have always known you,” he says simply.

“ ‘Always’? Did you know me as a child?”

“Always. I learned the blood and the word, and therefore you.”

My heart stops. He looks younger than me. Too young. “Did we grow up together?”

“Not as such, no.”

“Then why do you know me?”

With a flick of his wrist, he once again offers his hand. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you. She will tell you. You should know the wonder that you are.”

“Nice try, but I’m not going to a second location with you. I’m not even convinced I want to stay in this one.” I’m getting tired of the cryptic speeches, that ethereal smile painted on his face. Fear is slowly melting into frustration. “Are you a member of the Northwest pack?”

“There is no Northwest. There are no packs, no species, no borders.”

“Right. Okay . . . if you don’t tell me who you are, I’m going to scream, and someone who’s much less nice and patient than me will come out of the house– ”

“I can be fucking nice,” Koen says, coming to stand behind me.

Most of my tension dissolves.

“Not patient, though,” he adds. “She got that right.”

His heat presses against my back. “Is he Northwest?” I ask under my breath.

“No.” Koen’s hand wraps around my hip, completely engulfing it. It’s a deceptively relaxed gesture, protective and lover-like. He pulls me into him, and the back of my head brushes against his chest. Worry and fear stink like acid, but I pick up neither from him. “Which means that I can kill him for being in my territory. Want me to?” He’s joking. I think.

“He came alone,” I murmur. “I don’t think he’s a danger.”

“You’re right.” He continues louder, this time for the other Were to hear, “But why would he breach our borders? I must assume that he means to hurt you.”

The boy shakes his head forcefully, mussing up already tousled hair. “I would rather die than hurt one of us, Eva.”

I smell the truth of it. So does Koen, but his hold on me tightens. “What did you call her?” I can hear the frown in his question– and the way it deepens when no answer comes.

The boy stares for a long moment at Koen’s fingers on my stomach, and his smile falters for the first time. “You shouldn’t touch her,” he warns.

It is, demonstrably, the wrong thing to say to the Alpha of a territory he just breached. So wrong, it bothers even me. “Excuse me?” Koen asks mildly.

And that poor boy– he’s finally displaying some common sense, because he’s about to shit himself. But to his credit, even as he shakes like a leaf, he doesn’t back down. “You want her, but you are not worthy of her.”

“Man, you don’t know me. I think I bring a lot to the table.”

“Like several moldy unicorn waffles,” I mutter. In response, Koen playfully drums his fingertips over my stomach.

“He cannot keep you here, Eva,” the boy tells me. “I told them that there was no need to take you. No need for blood. I promised them that if you knew we were waiting for you, you would come.”

“Bro, she’s not going anywhere.”

“She is your superior in every way. You cannot speak for her, Koen Alexander.”

“He’s right, though,” I say. “I’m not coming with you.”

“Not all is lost, though,” Koen says, suddenly pushing me half behind his body. His posture switches– protective to predatory. “Serena is off-limits, but you may still have a playdate with me.”

“Eva,” the boy pleads, eyes never leaving mine. “Do you not remember us? Have you not been told the stories? You were hurt greatly, if so.” His smile folds into something else. Something sad. “Will you not join me?”

“I have no idea who you are. And since you’re calling me by the wrong name, I think that’s mutual.”

His shoulders slump. It’s like I cut the string that held him up. “If you won’t come with me, then I was wrong. And if I was wrong, before I leave, I will have to pay the price.”

“Good for you that you won’t be going anywhere, then,” Koen says.

“It was lovely to stand this close to you, Eva. To feel the same breeze and the same grass. The flesh will be reborn.” The boy bows his head. His attention shifts fully to Koen. “Koen Alexander. In another universe, one not as perfect as this one, I would have called you Alpha.”

“What a daunting threat,” Koen says, moving forward. When the boy begins to retreat, he sighs.

“We are many. And we have learned from past mistakes.”

“Sure.”

“What about you, Koen Alexander? Are you your parents’ son?”

Koen freezes. His shoulders go rigid. “Boy, I’m faster than you, and a hell of a lot stronger. If you run, I will catch you within one hundred feet, and I’ll probably end up hurting you.”

“You will pay for what you did. And Constantine will see you shortly.”

To me, it all sounds like nonsense. But I can smell Koen’s rage. It runs so deep, I have to make the conscious choice not to step away from him. “Constantine is dead,” he spits out.

“That he is,” the boy agrees with his widest smile yet, a grin of undiluted joy, and I realize that my initial assessment of his sanity may have been incorrect. Then it all happens so quickly, my glitchy, shocked brain can barely register the order of it.

Koen was right: he is much faster, and he could catch the boy in one hundred feet. Except, he doesn’t have one hundred feet. Because the Were doesn’t run away toward the forest. Instead he chooses the opposite direction, and I don’t understand—

Koen’s “Fuck” is muffled by the waves lapping onto the shore

– where does the Were think he’s going—

as Koen sprints to catch him

– that’s not where he came from—

or maybe to kill him

– not the right path—

and why is he not slowing down, he’s almost at the edge of the cliff, he can’t

– below the cliff, wasn’t there a—

The Were jumps.

He dives off the cliff without a single moment of hesitation, a perfectly symmetrical shape, a graceful silhouette against the sun. Even the wind ebbs, as if holding its breath, trying to keep still.

All Koen can do is skid to a stop. Let one hand tug at his hair. Watch as the boy’s body travels through the air. Listen to a long, long silence, broken only by the sound of bones crashing against stone.

CHAPTER 20

He wants to abscond with her. Fuck the rest of the world– it’s incapable of giving her the safety she so clearly deserves. He’ll fix that. He’ll make up for everything she has been put through.

IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT, SERENA.

He was clearly unwell. Very unwell. On some crazed mission.

Not your fault.

People– people who are not Koen– have been repeating variations on this for a while, and for a while I’ve been nodding and telling them, Yes, I know. Thank you, I’m good. No need to stick around, if there’s somewhere you need to be.

The sun is about to set. There are a dozen cars parked by Koen’s cabin, and more of his seconds than I even met last night milling around. I struggle to keep their names straight, but it doesn’t matter. They’re not here for me, except for the ones on babysitting duty. Because it’s obvious that Koen tasked them with making sure that I’m not left alone. Still, I act like I don’t notice the way they sit next to me, on the second-highest porch step. In ten-minute shifts.

I try to pretend that Koen isn’t the only person with whom I’m interested in having any kind of conversation, but my belly is made of lead. He was there with me. He would know if it was my fault.

“Would you like something warm to drink?” I ask Saul when he comes over.

“Thanks, honey, but we’re leaving soon.”

“Anything else I can help with?”

“You’re doing it.”

I glance down at myself, and the stolen hoodie that might be my only tether to sanity. If I’m doing something, Saul and I must have a different definition of doing. But he’s shaking his head.

“Just the fact that you’re keeping your cool, helps K– all of us.”

“Oh, great. I just figured I’d scream my little heart out later, into my pillow.”

Saul laughs. “That’s some grade A compartmentalization.”

“Thanks.” I toss my hair back. “It’s the childhood trauma.”

Saul chokes on his spit, and Koen arrives just in time to thump him firmly between the shoulder blades. “Give me a second with Serena,” he orders. “Alone.”

Unlike everyone else, he doesn’t sit. Instead he squats in front of me, eye to eye.

“So,” I say. What would happen if I were to demand the hug I so desperately want? Since I really can’t, maybe I’ll just ask him if he thinks that I—

“No,” he says simply.

I blink. “What?”

“No. There is nothing you could have done to prevent him from killing himself. No, it’s not your fault. No, you shouldn’t have agreed to go with him.”

God. I needed to hear it. From him. “He’s the second person to die in front of me in three days, Koen.”

“I know. I’m starting to think that you might be bad news, killer.”

I laugh. And laugh. And then force myself to stop, because there is a sense of fullness behind my eyes, inside my throat, and it threatens to overflow. “Bob was bad enough,” I whisper. “But this guy . . . he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was so young, and it feels like such a waste, and . . .” I take a deep breath. “It’s just been a lot. In very little time. I think I’m ready for the musical episode, you know?”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

I laugh again. This time he smiles, too.

Until I add, “He seemed so lucid. And then, all of a sudden, he was saying all this weird shit, and it wasn’t . . . He didn’t sound normal.”

Koen reaches up, long fingers combing through my hair. Pressing against my scalp. The warmth of his touch has my eyelids fluttering closed. “It wasn’t normal. But I won’t insult your intelligence and tell you that he was talking gibberish. This is bad, Serena.”

Of course it is. “Because of Constantine?”

“Among the rest.” A sigh. His fingertips massage the skin at the back of my head. “Yeah.”

“Can you tell me who he is?”

“He was a Were. About two decades ago, he was directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of Weres and Humans in the Northwest.”

I clench my fists so hard, my nails leave imprints in my palms. “And now he’s back.”

“He’s dead.”

“Could reports of his passing have been greatly exaggerated?”

“I ripped his heart out of his chest, chewed it for half a minute, and then spit it into the ocean.”

I nod slowly. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

Koen’s mouth twitches. “Constantine’s dead, no doubt about it. But he was the leader of a very destructive group.”

“Another Alpha?”

“Nothing like that. But some considered him a prophet.”

I chew on my lower lip, mulling it over. “I didn’t know Weres have cults.”

“Everybody has cults. They’re the weeds of sentient civilization. And Constantine’s was the worst of them, because . . .” He shakes his head and turns back to where his seconds are idling, waiting for him. He’s borrowing precious time, just to explain shit to me. “Constantine’s dead. But his right hands . . . Our understanding of their power structure may have been incomplete.”

“The boy who killed himself . . . ?”

“He was in his late teens. Too young to have been part of the original cult. I doubt he ever met Constantine.”

“Could he be a relative of mine?”

Koen sighs like he’s been wondering the same. “We have the boy’s body,” he says evenly. “Lots of DNA to compare with yours, and we are already on it.”

“And Constantine?”

“I . . .” He shakes his head, at a loss for words, and in this moment– when he looks as confused as I feel, when he chooses to share his lack of understanding with me, I think I love him. Just a little bit.

“Okay.” I swallow. Glance into the distance, at the ocean waves crashing into the shore. The glow of the last few sunrays.

“Clearly, they think you are connected to them. Most likely, you are somehow related to one of their former members. You’re very high profile, and if they’re rebuilding, they’ll want you back.”

Right. “I might be the Eva person he was talking about.” The prospect is disorienting. Makes me sick to my stomach.

Koen’s hand shifts to my cheek. “Look at me.”

I do. His eyes are dark and steady. Make me forget what led us here, and what’s to come.

“Your name doesn’t fucking matter. You are my killer. Okay?”

A laugh hiccups out of me, a little wet. “Okay.”

“Good. I need to meet with the Assembly.” His thumb swipes against my cheekbone. “Do you want to come with me?”

Yes, with every single cell of my body. “Why would I come with you?”

“Because the idea of having you out of my sight makes me want to flip those cars one by one.”

I stifle my chuckle. “The Assembly is very concerned that you’re breaking your covenant. I doubt me coming with you would help your case.”

“Good point.” He seems to consider it. “On the other hand, fuck my case.”

I snort. Watch him rise to his feet. Feel my heart grow heavier as he walks away.

Then, just a few feet from me, he turns around. “Killer?”

“Yeah?”

There is a false start. Like the words are too foreign to flow out with ease. But then he says, “Before I leave, I think I need to hold you for a minute.”

I’m in his arms before I know how I got there. He bends down to scoop me up, and my forehead fits so perfectly into the valley of his already-prickly throat, this cannot be anything but fated. He lifts me higher, my feet no longer touching the ground, and hides his face in my neck.

A long, deep inhale. My pulse begins to dance.

He’s– I did not plan on this. I have no business caring so much about him, but I can’t remember the last time I felt this close to someone. Koen is warm, as solid as any rocky cliffside. So what if people think we’re fucking?

So what if his heart ends up broken when I die in a few weeks?

So what if the Alpha’s authority becomes questionable right at a moment in which the pack is suffering from violent threats and political turmoil—

No. No.

“I’ll be fine,” I force myself to say, slowly ungluing myself from his body, pushing him to let me down and let go of me. I cover the stench of the lie with some truths. “I’m tired. I should probably sleep. Just . . . say hi to Karolina from me.”

He looks the kind of unhappy that comes from knowing that I’m hiding something. I feel, in the lingering of his hand on my shoulder, that he wants to press me back into him. But his muscles relax, and that’s the end of it. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If anything happens to me, what do you do?”

“Buy a black veil, pretend I’m a widow, cash in on your life insurance.”

“You call Lowe. Ask him to come get you.”

“What about your seconds?”

Koen’s jaw shifts. He seems to come to a bitter realization. “I trust them with my life, but apparently not with yours. Lowe can protect you better than anyone.” His hand lifts to my cheek. Falls back to his side without touching me. “Well. Anyone but me. You’ll be safe tonight. I have people patrolling around the cabin– ”

“The two cardinal points, yes.”

“I have twelve guards.”

“That is . . .” I close my mouth. I’m assuming he can spare the manpower. Clearly, the headline here is Big Man Needs Peace of Mind. “Excessive, probably. Anyone watching out for bald eagles?”

“There’ll be someone on the roof.” He nods like he’s about to leave again.

I can’t let him go without saying, “I’m sorry.”

He frowns. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know. But this is difficult for you, too. And he dragged your parents into it, which I can’t even imagine . . .” I swallow. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with this.”

His teeth clench. There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his face. “If I come back and something has happened to you, Serena, I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

I bite the inside of my lips. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Yeah. That it is.”

I turn and walk inside the cabin. I do not watch Koen leave, nor do I listen to the engine softening in the distance. Instead I go to my room, dig into the mountain of blankets and pillows the bed has somehow accumulated, sit cross-legged with my phone in my hands, and do the only thing that makes sense.

Serena: Would you love me less if my name was Eva?

Misery: Yes.

Misery: But not like, by a lot.

I bury my face in the pillow to laugh and cry at the same time.

I WAKE UP A FEW HOURS LATER, ON FIRE.

Pouring sweat.

Shivering.

In pain so visceral, I am willing to do anything, absolutely fucking anything to not feel it. Even something as drastic as dying.

I roll out of bed and drag myself to the shower. Loud whimpers spill out of me, and I slap a hand against my mouth, until I remember that Koen won’t be home until morning. If I use his bathtub, he won’t know. Or care.

I stumble across the hallway, taking three pit stops on the way– two to dry heave, and one to just collapse for a little while. As one does, I tell myself. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.

My head spins as I pull myself up. It helps that my claws are somehow out, something to stick through the wooden walls to lug myself to a semi-upright position.

You’re doing amazing, Serena. Eva. Killer. Whoever you are.

My heart has never beaten this fast, not even after a sprint, not even after killing someone. I remember when Dr. Henshaw listed the many ways in which the fevers could lead to my death. Septic shock and widespread inflammation. Brain damage and neuronal death. Dehydration.

Cardiac stress.

I was kinda partial to metabolic imbalance, but maybe this is how I go?

Either way, I inform my body, things end in cold water. That’s non-negotiable.

I lurch into Koen’s bathroom. The underwear and flannel I’m wearing are so sweat-soaked, it hurts to peel them off my skin. I turn on the faucet, make sure that the water is gelid, and when I feel my stomach twist to expel something, I trip back toward the sink.

That’s where I see my eyes.

I freeze, because this is new. Or maybe, in all the fever attacks so far, I never looked at my face in a mirror. My pupils have shrunk to pinpricks. It’s like my irises are eggs, and someone punctured them open with a needle. The dark brown spills out, filling the white like a puddle of something viscous that could almost be blood—

“Serena.”

I turn around. My heart sinks.

Koen is wearing yesterday’s clothes and must have just returned. He inhales deeply, staring at my nearly naked body, focusing on the fat drops of sweat rolling between my breasts. The hot flush that blankets my skin. My eyes, still leaking into themselves.

“I’m sorry.” I’m hoarse. Weak. I force myself to take a deep breath, because I need to– cold water. Can’t deal with him now. I hug myself tight, forgetting about my own sharp claws, ignoring the way they pierce the skin of my ribs. “It’s b– better if you leave.”

His eyes are shadowed. He takes a step forward, bringing inside a tidal wave of his scent that’s safe and clean and healthy and—

Oh my God. Sex. It’s so delicious, so indecent, so fundamentally erotic, I want it even more than the cold water. Which I need to survive.

“Please, Koen. I need you to leave.”

“Where does it hurt?” He comes closer, clearly unaware that I’m scary and unpredictable. His heat should bother me, but by some miracle of biology it doesn’t add to the fever. “And how bad?”

“It’s fine. I just need to– ” I can’t bear his gaze on me. I turn away and spot my eyes in the mirror once again. They’re even worse than before, swallowed by a rising tide of dark green, and . . . “Oh my God,” I whisper, reaching up to touch them, but Koen traps both my wrists against the small of my back. He slides his other arm around my chest, plastering me to him.

“Your claws are out, and you’re already bleeding. You need to stay still.”

“My eyes– ”

“It’s okay.”

“But they– ”

“Serena.” That Alpha voice. “Calm down.”

I do. For about a second. Then panic rises, higher, stronger. “That’s not normal.”

“Stop looking at them. Deep breaths.”

“I can’t. What is happening?”

“Don’t look at them.”

Tears slide down my face. I’m about to explode. “But why are they– ”

Koen’s fist darts out to punch the mirror, shattering my reflection into a thousand small shards. “Here. Now they’re not doing that anymore.” His palm rests against my forehead. “You’re burning up. This is not the first time, is it?”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

“Answer me.”

“N– no.”

“Good girl. Is it a fever?”

I nod, and the simple gesture makes me dizzy. I sink into Koen’s body even more. There is no way to describe the fabric of his clothes other than offensive. I need them off.

“Cold baths work to bring it down?”

“Yes.”

He glances at the almost-full tub. A second later I’m submerged in water. Distantly, I register some surprise. Because Koen gets in with me, clothes and all, and pulls me between his spread legs.

The sudden icy cold feels like unicorns and kittens building a pillow fort on a pink cloud, then snacking on a tub of frosting. “Better?” Koen asks.

I nod. The soft weight of his lips presses against my temple.

“Anything else you do?”

I shake my head. Open my mouth to tell Koen that in a second the shock will knock me out, and I’ll wake up shivering in a couple of hours. That he should let go of me. That people in my condition can harm those around them. But one of his hands splays wide on my abdomen, and the other curves around my inner thigh, and even though this might be the most shameful moment of my entire life, I’m too tired and comfortable to do anything but fall asleep.