“Absurd,” he says, and I know he’s going to ask me for more. It occurs to me how terrifying it must be, for an Alpha whose existence is predicated upon control, the unraveling that comes with pleasure like this. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if anyone has seen him this vulnerable in the past two decades.

I reach up to cradle his face in my hands. Kiss his hot lips. Say, “Koen. Next time, I’d like for you to come, too.”

He can’t say no to me. The steady, controlled movements become frantic, pounding, the thick of his cock filling me over and over, words of adoration and filth murmured in my ear. Another orgasm crashes into me. His cock gets even bigger and fuller, and—

My breath catches in my throat. “What— Koen?”

He kisses me, deep. Lovely. He’s not really moving anymore, just grinding inside me, trying to find a perfect spot, and the feeling of fullness becomes unbearable. I feel a tinge of alarm. Stop, I should say. Stop. It’s not normal. It’s too much. But it’s not. And Koen knows it.

“Take it.” He shoves deeper. “Be good and take my knot.”

“I— I don’t— ”

“You do. You were made for it. How could I ever think of fucking anyone else, when you take it so well?”

His cock starts jerking, and he holds me tighter, groaning against my gland something about his “perfect mate” and her “perfect, tight cunt” that almost sounds like poetry, and his orgasm lasts for . . . for minutes, I think. “That’s it,” he grits out. “That’s where my come goes.”

It’s perfect. I comb a hand through his hair and wrap my arms around him, feeling his heavy breaths reverberate through me, the sounds of his pleasure. Being filled up, witnessing him let go, it’s all so good, another orgasm crashes into me, so violent that everything goes blurry around the edges.

I stay there, spasming, holding tight, for a long time.

So long, I startle when he says, “I’m crushing you.” He rolls me on top of him, my breasts flattened against his ribs, and he’s still inside, still as hard as when we started. In fact . . .

I squirm. Shimmy my hips. Tug at whatever is happening down there, whatever is making it so that we can’t quite separate yet. It’s like he’s lodged inside me. Locked.

I test the connection, finding that it holds strong. The rational part of me says that I should be panicking, but my hindbrain is in charge at the moment, and it’s profoundly okay with what’s going on.

Instincts, Layla said. And one of them is to squeeze my internal muscles to make sure that there is no give.

“Fuck,” Koen swears, and he’s coming again, a short burst that has him driving his hips up into me, and he mumbles into me that “there’s no need,” that he’s “already fucking gone” over me, that I’m “so good,” it’s going to “destroy” him. So I do it again, just to watch the way the pleasure transforms his face, the tendons of his strong neck in relief as he arches back, his muscles tensing and releasing.

And once more, because he’s losing his mind, and I love it.

I could continue. Instead, I ask, “Koen?”

He’s too out of breath to reply, but he presses a kiss of acknowledgment against the crown of my hair.

“Please, don’t take this as a complaint.”

His hand was tracing my spine, but stops. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nothing like that. But I think I’m going to need a Were anatomy lesson before we . . . Actually, I think I’m gonna need it right now.”

His chin dips. He studies me to figure out whether I’m joking.

“Well,” he says at last. “Fuck.”

CHAPTER 34

One stolen moment. And another. And another.

ICANNOT BELIEVE LAYLA DIDN’T MENTION IT!”

“She probably assumed you knew.” Koen smiles a little and keeps drumming his fingers on the curve of my hip. “I certainly did.”

“This is mind-blowing. Does Lowe have one?”

He scowls. “I have not personally witnessed it, but— ”

“I didn’t mean . . . I’m not interested in my best friend’s husband’s penis. Or, I am, if she wants to, you know, talk about it because of issues they’re having. Say he was struggling with erectile dysfunction and Misery wanted to confide in me, I wouldn’t be like, I don’t care, shut up, but I also wouldn’t solicit nudes of Lowe— ”

“Serena.”

I clear my throat. “I think Misery may have tried to warn me.”

“About knots.”

“I thought she was on her usual bullshit, so I ignored her.”

“Understandable.”

“There’s a Human urban legend that Weres have inflatable dicks, but it’s widely believed to be made up. Like the rumor that Vampyres pulverize in the sun? But lo and behold, we found a single conspiracy theory grounded in reality. Of course it’s the one about genitalia.”

Koen doesn’t reply, so I lift myself up on my forearm and look at him. The knot— here I am, using new vocabulary in full sentences— has deflated, but I’m still half on top of him, clearheaded once again. He plays with my hair, marks every inch of my skin, squeezes the fat and muscles of my body, moving from curve to bone like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted. I wonder if he’s storing every little touch for later. If he’s even aware of what he’s doing, staring at me with a faint half smile that is just . . .

Lovesick.

It’s like a boulder in my stomach, the transience of this. Of us. We’re momentary. Impermanent. Doomed.

He deserves better. “So,” I say lightly, a little forced. “You do like sex, after all.”

“Did I say that I didn’t?”

“No. Just . . .” I chew on my lower lip. “Amanda said you never looked like you missed it.”

“Because I didn’t.”

I swallow. “Do you think . . . After this is done, do you think it’ll be harder for you to go back to not having it?”

“Serena,” he says, deliberate, level. “None of this is about sex.”

“Then what— ”

“You. This, all of it, is purely about you.”

I sit up, desperate to find the right thing to say. The sheet slides down to my hips, and Koen doesn’t pretend to look anywhere but at my breasts. “Still spectacular?” I joke, fighting the impulse to cover myself. It’s a little uncomfortable, being on display, even after what we just did.

“I hope you never find out the things I’ve done while thinking about them.”

I flush. “I was so self-conscious about my body. For the longest time.”

“Why?”

I draw up my knees. Cover myself. “Just the side effect of being the short, busty sidekick to a tall, elegant, cypress-like princess creature.” My cheeks are hot. “It’s nice, I guess. That you’re not disappointed in the way I look.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yeah. I mean, it could have shaken out in a different . . . Why are you staring at me like I just told you that angels’ wings are made of porridge?”

He exhales, speechless. “You know what? You wouldn’t get it.”

“How so?”

“Leave it alone.”

“But I want to know.”

“Just . . .” He bites the inside of his cheek, looking for the right words. “You are my mate. I would have wanted you no matter what. I will want you no matter what. But you are also . . .” He licks his lips. “If someone had given me a piece of paper and asked me to list everything I liked, everything I dreamed of, everything that I was sure would make me happy, you would have been the final product of it.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Good line, I want to tell him, just to dull the way it stabs through my ribs. No need to waste it on me, I’m already a sure thing.

But it’s so obviously not a line. He’s trying to explain something to me, something that he knows in his belly, and I . . .

I guess I’m listening.

“There could never be disappointment, because there were never any comparisons, or expectations, or hopes, or standards to meet. There’s only . . .” He casts a glance around the room, searching. Then his eyes settle on me. “There is only you, Serena.”