“Pretty fucking late to worry about that,” he says distractedly, continuing to make the bed.

“Well.” I scowl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask to be a hybrid hunted by every single species.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t ask to be my mate, either.” He stops mid fitting a bottom sheet to look me square in the eye. “However, you did ask me to take you in and use you to lure Vampyres away from Ana. That was your mistake.” His mouth curls in a small, sardonic smile. “I won’t be sleeping in the cabin with you, if that’s what worries you.”

I flush. “No, that’s not what— Wait. Where will you be sleeping?”

“Outside,” he says, like I deserve to take remedial Were classes just for asking.

“You sleep outside.”

“Yes.”

“In the great outdoors.”

“Yup.”

“Every night.”

A brief pause. “Not every night.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Just every night in which I have time to sleep.”

“You mean that you don’t sleep every— You know, don’t answer that.” And I used to think that my job was stressful. “Did you just never outgrow your backyard camping phase— Oh. You sleep in wolf form.”

“Like God intended,” he says, with the tone of someone whose opinion of God’s will is that it’s secondary to his own. Rationally, I know that Koen wasn’t born with a pack to boss around. There must have been a time in his life in which people surrounding him would not have thrown themselves under a banana car just because he snapped his fingers at them.

And yet I can’t picture it. “I can’t stay with you, Koen. I need to be on my own.”

“Do you need to, or do you want to?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. You’ll do what I say anyway.”

I close my eyes. “Maybe I should just go back to Lowe and Misery— ”

“Who, notoriously, have nothing and no one more important than you to worry about,” he drawls.

I press my lips together.

“Word of advice, killer?” he murmurs. “Stubborn and stupid is just a couple letters’ difference.”

“You’re not the best speller, are you?”

A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth— and then mine. We share a long look, equally frustrated and amused by each other. A weird string strains between us, tugging at me, reminding me that I like him, I liked him from the start, I don’t want to fight with him.

Maybe I could tell him. He would understand, I think. He’s gruff and abrasive, a little mean, but also aware of cumbersome stuff like duty, responsibility, love. He wouldn’t judge me for doing what I needed to do. Maybe he’d help me through my last few months. Maybe I wouldn’t be so alone.

That just sounds . . . good. So good, I nearly say, Koen, I need you to know something.

But he would never keep a secret that big. And then Misery and Lowe and Ana would know, and I want better for them.

So I ask, in my most hard-ass tone, “What do I have to do to get you to let me stay on my own?”

He pauses, staring at me in that serious, uncompromising way I should be afraid of. “You want to be on your own?”

I nod, eager.

“Okay.” He drops the pillow. Flicks his fingers for me to follow. “I’ll allow it. If you prove to me that you can handle it.”

DURING THE TEN-MINUTE DRIVE, I EXPERIENCE MOUNTAINS OF RELIEF, picturing Koen dropping me off at a quaint little cottage after proof that, at long last, I have acquired the ability to plug a charger into a socket.

I should have expected something more like me on a gym mat. Wearing borrowed shorts and a white tee. Standing in front of a tall blond woman who looks like an underwear model tough enough to survive an extinction-level event. She’s inscrutable in a pants-pissing way.

“This is Brenna,” Koen says, much closer to her than he is to me. I don’t know why I notice, or why it makes my belly heavy. “One of my seconds. She manages this gym and trains most younger members of the pack in hand- to- hand combat.” They exchange a small smile. Clearly, they go way back. “Serena here said that if she’s expecting an attack, she can fend for herself.”

“Would you like me to prove her wrong?” Brenna sounds bored. I doubt she thinks much of me. Then again, do I think much of me?

“I need to make sure she won’t die on my watch. Lowe’s mate likes her,” he adds.

“You do have a soft spot for Lowe,” Brenna agrees, like it’s his fatal flaw.

“This is unnecessary,” I say. “For one, regular Weres are much stronger than Vampyres. And in a scenario in which I live alone, I would have weapons.”

“I don’t mind if she uses a weapon,” Brenna offers, challenge shimmering in her eyes.

“Well, she can’t. And highly trained Vampyres defeat Weres in combat all the time.” He gestures toward me with a small flourish. “Show me that you can be the last one standing in hand- to- hand, and I’ll let you live wherever the hell you want. Okay?”

I can tell he expects more protests. So I smile sweetly. “Okay.” And add, under my breath, “Alpha.” His jaw twitches like he did not like that, but I must be in the mood to taunt him. “You didn’t have to take me all the way here. You could have sparred with me yourself.” I tilt my head. “Unless you’re afraid of me?”

His expression flattens. “Sure. I’m afraid. It’s not that I have better shit to do than to wrestle spoiled little girls who love wasting my time.”

My stomach drops. It’s unnecessarily mean, the way Koen holds my eyes for a beat, as if to savor the hurt in them. Then he fondly clasps Brenna’s shoulder, whispers something in her ear that has her smirking, and settles on the bench farthest away.

I hate him.

“Ready to start whenever you are,” Brenna says once he’s out of earshot.

I hate her, too. By extension. Which is unfair, but it does fuel me.

Misery and I have taken a lot of self-defense, and I have some moves tucked away. Not sure how they’ll play out after months of poor sleep hygiene, a diet mostly made of stomach acids, and my current condom full of chicken stock level of fitness, but I don’t care.

Brenna expects nothing from me, and I can use it to my advantage.

“I didn’t think Weres went to the gym,” I tell her with a small smile.

“Weres do everything Humans do. But better.”

So maybe I don’t hate her. Maybe I sort of like her. It’s Misery’s fault if I have a thing for tall blondes who use fuck off humor to shield their true selves. I’ll write my sister a strongly worded email of condemnation.

But there’s something I need to know, and I decide not to hem and haw over it. “You and Koen . . . ?”

“Yup.” Light on her feet, she moves closer. We start circling each other.

“Cool.” She throws a jab at my torso. I hop back and dodge it. For some reason, my chest hurts anyway. “How, um, long have you been together?”

“We no longer are.”

Oh.

I evade a few more punches and try a low attack, but she gets me with a leg kick. I fall on my ass but manage to roll back up before she can . . . I don’t know. When does this stop? Pinfall? Knockout? First blood? She’s not going to kill me, right? “You didn’t break up because of the mate thing, right?” I ask, already panting a little.

“As if. You’re not the hub of reality.” She snorts. “It was a million years ago, and there was no breaking up. The fucking ground was falling from under our feet.” She aims a cross at my head, which I barely slip. I counter with a jab to her ribs, quickly followed by a light kick.

I land both. And they must hurt— if not her flesh, her pride. Brenna glares, and that’s when she begins to fight in earnest. I half expect the way she grabs my shoulders, and even her knee to my stomach. I block the latter, but she takes me down with a body lock that . . .

Fucking ouch.

“Listen.” She pins me to the mat. Holds me down as she whispers right against my face. “I’m not some jealous woman quivering at the sight of a pretty trophy girlfriend. But you know nothing. Things could get real tough here in the Northwest. Koen could use an adult, instead of a cute little ball and chain combo that only slows him down.”