“This?” I choke out.
“You.”
My heart drops, even though there’s no cattiness in the word. She’s just sorry, I think. Sorry for Koen, for the way he’s saddled with me, and I’m almost curious enough to ask her why. Brenna, what specifically about me is not full-package material? Because we’re positively besieged by choices here. Is it the fact that I’m a hybrid? That I don’t know how to be a proper Were? That there’s a bounty over my head? That I grew up with a Vampyre? That I’m unemployed? A snort of a laugh hiccups out of me. Honestly, it’s genuinely amusing, how poor a fit I am for the Alpha of this pack.
Brenna is less than entertained. “I don’t want to be unfair. Your life has been hard. But I hope you will leave soon, Serena. I appreciate that you’re trying to protect Lowe’s sister, but I hope you’ll know better than to stick around once this is over.”
It would be so easy to snap back, if she was being deliberately rude. But she’s obviously in pain. And too distracted to notice her slackening grip and the opening she’s giving me. I rip my arm free, shift our positions, and swing my legs over her body. Putting pressure on the joint of her elbow, I watch her thrash for a few seconds.
It’s there in her eyes, the moment she realizes that there’s no way out.
“I’m not going to stick around,” I puff out, winded. “I’ll be out of your hair before you can swat me away. And you don’t have to worry about Koen and me. We’re not together. The mate thing has no bearing on our relationship. We’re not secretly in love with each other. We’re not even fucking.”
“Oh, I know.” Her smile is strained. “Believe me, we all know.”
“Good. He explained the situation to you.” I glance up and find him staring at us. At me. If he’s angry that I won, he hides it well. There is a shadow of a smile around his eyes, at the edge of him, that resembles . . . pride.
I hope what he reads in my wide, smug grin is Guess I’ll be living on my own.
And maybe he does. Because he nods, once, as if conceding that I’m right. I open my mouth to say something obnoxiously victorious— and that’s when I realize that my celebration was premature.
With an explosive burst, Brenna lifts me off her. She breaks free and takes full advantage of my absolute shock to wrap an arm around my neck from the rear, and . . .
“He didn’t need to explain any situation to anyone,” she whispers in my ear. “There are three things I believe with utmost certainty. Death will come for all of us. No matter what, the sun will rise every morning. And Koen is never, ever going to touch you. Not even if you beg him for it on your knees.”
She lets go of me so abruptly, I fall back against the mat, disoriented, dizzy, breathing in big gulps of air. When I open my eyes, Koen is staring down at me, mouth upturned in an unsurprised smile.
“For your sake, killer, you better not leave dirty dishes in the sink.”
CHAPTER 12
Cute, how she thinks he’d ever let her out of his sight.
ILOST FAIR AND SQUARE, SO I FOLLOW KOEN OUT AND KEEP MY mouth shut, gingerly moving my bruised, achy body. Any half-decent guy would solicitously ask whether I’m okay, but that’s clearly not him. He walks ahead, ignoring me, and when he comes to a sudden halt, I nearly bump into his back.
On the hood of his car there is a small parcel, carefully wrapped in brown paper. Someone wrote with a black Sharpie: For the former Human.
Instinctively, I round Koen to pick it up. A second later, I’m airborne: his arm is wrapped tight around my waist; my feet no longer touch the ground. His hand presses into my belly and pulls me closer to his chest. “Out of curiosity, do you have a death wish, or are you just being sewer-brained?”
I tug at his arm, with little success. I’m still suspended. “Oh, yes, the ultimate suicidal activity. Opening my own mail.”
“Serena, that is not normal.”
“Packages?”
“Packages for half-Human hybrids who are under my protection, and whose existence is under threat by multiple parties.” He shifts forward, aiming his words at the shell of my ear. A shiver travels through my spine. “Since you appear to need reminding, if some sketchy-looking cumduck pulls up in a white van and asks you to help him rescue his puppy— ”
“Okay, I get it.” He inhales deeply against my back. It’s like we share a single body. “Can you tell who dropped it off?”
He shakes his head. “They covered their scent.”
“Hmm. Does Brenna have security cameras?”
“Yes. But I doubt they picked up anything, or she’d already know.”
“Which means?”
“Just that the person who delivered the package knew where the blind zone was.”
“Is that a short list?”
“No. The point of the cameras is to monitor outsiders, not pack members.” Koen lets go of me and a new dance ensues, in which the package is reasonably ascertained not to contain explosives or biological hazards, then brought inside the car.
“Makes total sense,” I say.
“Hmm?”
“That the Alpha with responsibility over thousands of pack members would take on this super-risky endeavor, while the random unemployed hybrid watches at a safe distance. My life is totally worth more than yours,” I say sweetly.
He pretends to ponder the matter. “You’re right. I should just off you myself and get it over with.”
I bite back a smile and watch him slowly tear into the paper. There is a card inside, which has Koen’s features tensing with worry.
The note, unsigned, simply says, From your mother.
Underneath there is a silver necklace: a moon scratched by four claw marks.
“WASHER AND DRYER ARE DOWN THE HALL,” KOEN TELLS ME BACK at his house. It’s like we never left at all. “There’s a bathroom in your bedroom.”
There is. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have a tub, which is a crucial part of my nighttime routine. Fortunately, I think I spot one in Koen’s en suite as he hands me a stack of towels that feel softer than a seal’s pelt. I bury my face in them and inhale deeply. Traces of soap and his skin fill my lungs, and I flush a little when his eyebrow lifts. “Um. Thank you.”
The plot twist I did not expect, given the scantiness of the furnishings, is the piano. I stare, intrigued. It’s mahogany. At once smooth and softened by time. Little scars. Faded spots. “Do you play?”
“No.”
“Then why— ”
“Family heirloom.”
I guess that explains the way it’s pushed against the wall in the far corner, almost hidden. I want to investigate, but Koen’s tone doesn’t encourage follow- up questions.
Back in the kitchen, he opens the fridge. It contains a single item: a purple box of something called “unicorn waffles.”
My eyebrow arches.
“From when Ana was here,” he mumbles, and I’m pleased to detect some sheepishness. No waft of cold air, though, because the fridge isn’t even plugged into the power outlet.
“Guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how electricity works,” I murmur under my breath. Koen slams the door closed, hooks his finger under the base of my jaw, and forces me to look at him.
“Wanna say that again to my face?”
“Not particularly.” I bat my eyes at him and don’t bother to free myself. I’m resigned to staying here, and I must admit it: he smells nice. His touch feels nice. Being here is nice. Nice, nice, nice. My mind’s spinning a little. “Are most Northwest members too badass to consume food? Do you only eat in wolf form?” That must be it. He can’t very well bust out his grandma’s silverware and fine dine with truffle risotto and densuke watermelon if 80 percent of the time he’s got paws and carnassial teeth. “Poor squirrels, getting chased up the gutter.”