“Well, yes. Is that something you’re interested in?”
I used to be. Funnily enough, when I thought I was a Human orphan, the idea of having a child was magic: someone who might share my DNA. Someone to take care of. I used to picture it like a do- over of sorts: my child would not be traumatized into forgetting the first six years of its life. My child would suffer zero assassination attempts before its eighteenth birthday- or after. My child would never know true fear or hunger, and its happiness would soak up all the sadness I’d generated and polluted the world with.
Back in college, whenever Misery would catch me playing with the neighbor’s kids, pinching their cheeks, calling them cute, she’d roll her eyes so hard, her contacts nearly popped out.
I hear they shit everywhere.
And eat all your peanut butter.
That’s true of you, too.
Precisely. Do you really need two of me?
So, yes. I used to be interested. But now . . . “It’s unclear whether it’s even possible. Because of my genetic makeup.”
“I see. Well, in the eventuality that you can, let me make it clear: you will never be asked to put your body through anything you don’t want to. And my job is to help you do what’s best for you.”
I smile at her, genuinely grateful. “In that case, I need one thing from you.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“I need you to make sure that I do not go into Heat.”
He never thought the world was a particularly fair place. Still, it’s a startlingly vile brand of cruelty on fate’s part, to show him her- what he could have had, if only he’d made different choices.
IN THEORY,” LAYLA SAYS CAREFULLY, “WITH A HIGH DOSE OF PROGESTERONE, we should be able to prevent Estrus.”
“Perfect. Then- “
“But we don’t know how an injection would interact with your biology.” Her eyes fall on the lab results strewn over the desk, and she starts ticking off her fingers. “Your Estrus started manifesting much earlier than in any other patient I’ve heard of, your hormone levels are still off, and your body doesn’t always respond to medication. When Dr. Henshaw gave you steroid blockers, they were ineffective, just like antipyretic drugs. You could even get a paradoxical reaction- “
“We can try, though. Right?”
She pauses. “Serena, I will be happy to help you find a suitable partner- “
“That’s not it.”
“What is it, then?”
“What if . . .” I close my eyes. “What if my body is set on Koen?”
What if my soul is, too. What if the idea of doing any of this with someone who isn’t him makes my stomach turn and my heart shrivel?
Out of everything I’ve said, this takes her aback the most. Her eyes widen, and she leans forward over the desk, as if to better reassure me, “I understand that you and Koen have grown close. Heat is a turbulent time, and it’s natural to want to spend it with someone you trust. We are not Human, after all, and we communicate through nonverbal signals like touch or scent, and it’s normal to want to be with someone who reads you well. But you can still find someone else who qualifies- “
“Maybe it’s not about can.” I swallow. “Maybe it’s about want.” Honestly, I no longer know if there’s a difference between the two.
Her lips flatten. “Serena, it’s forbidden. To help you through your heat, Koen would be required to step down, which would inevitably lead to a succession war. Even worse, the Assembly might decide to- “
“Secede again. Yes.” It’s my turn to lean forward. Make sure she understands. “I have no intention of putting Koen, or the Northwest, in that position. And that’s why I need you to help me not go into Heat.”
A flicker passes through her eyes, and I know that she’ll do what I’m asking for.
I STEP OUTSIDE SEM’S OFFICE TO FIND KOEN GONE AND BRENNA rolling her eyes. “You know what my favorite pastime is?”
“Um . . . no?”
“Waking up at ass o’clock in the morning because my Alpha wants me to babysit a halfling who can’t take care of herself, and noticing her poorly hidden, crushing disappointment when she sees me. So delightfully flattering.”
I blush. “I’m sorry. It’s lovely to see you, I just didn’t expect- “
“Yeah, sure. Yap, yap, yap. Come on.” She lifts herself out of one of the plush chairs in the waiting room. “Let’s go. Koen wants me to take you home.”
I last about four seconds before asking, “Where did he- “
“There was a situation at the border.” Her tone is bored.
“Was it the cult?”
“No. Still related to you, though.”
“Who was it, then?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Brenna, who?” I hate begging her for little snippets of information. Almost as much as she loves leaving me in limbo for the two minutes we walk to her car.
“Vampyres,” she admits once she’s behind the wheel. “A lot of them, split in two groups, trying to get to you from the north. Their plan was to have the first team distract our patrols while the second entered the territory to abduct you. Didn’t work out.”
“Who sent them?”
“See, there is some devious shit going on here. The Vampyres in the first group, the ones we were obviously supposed to catch, were wearing jewelry that would tie them to a councilmember who has historically been pro Were alliances, which . . .”
“Would be incredibly stupid.”
“And say what you want about leeches, but they’re not. Unless they are, because they think we’d fall for false flags. Food for thought. The second group was harder to identify, so . . .”
“Did they contact Owen?”
“Yup. He was able to recognize a couple of them and believes it’s proof that Councilwoman Selamio called the bounty on you. But he needs incontrovertible evidence and possibly a confession, which in turn requires the presence of someone who can be very . . . persuasive. Hence, Koen.”
Who’s nothing if not persuasive. “Are you planning to return them alive?”
She gives me a pitying glance. “That ship has long sailed for most of them.”
“Oh. Right.” I clear my throat. “Do you know what the councilwoman wanted with me?”
“To study you. Run a whole assay on your lymph nodes. Cut you up in cubes and slap you on microscope slides. That kind of stuff.” She grins at me. It transforms the usually dour lines of her face into something so stunning, I have no problem picturing Koen’s crush on her when they were younger.
Last night . . . What he and I did. What he did to me- he didn’t seem clumsy. Or new at it. Or even out of practice. And since Brenna and Koen used to-
“Are you okay?” Brenna asks me.
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