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.
T’S NOT YOUR FAULT, SERENA.
He was clearly unwell. Very unwell. On some crazed mission.I 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.