Laila

“Dear Koen:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’m about to undergo a period of enhanced sexual receptivity in which I will require the assistance of a compatible partner
Could that perhaps be you?”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate

“What Misery is to Lowe, you are to me.”
Oh.
Oh?
Oh. “Is this a, um… terminal diagnosis?”
His lips twitch. “No cure, I’m afraid.”
“I see.” I clear my throat. “Well, this relationship sure escalated quickly.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate

“I was being a patient, considerate, respectful, non-intrusive, accommodating mate. I was trying to—”
“Koen, you are the most intrusive mate ever. You never stop staring at me when we’re in the same room, you wake me up to have sex in the middle of the night, you keep tearing my clothes, and you want to be with me every second you’re not gone on pack business. You’re not really the space-giving kind of partner, and—”
“I’m trying. I could be way fucking worse.”
“—and I’m not complaining, because I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate

“I am concerned for Ana, though,” I hasten to add, tearing my eyes away. “She’s already a bunch of stressors stacked in a trench coat. There are only that many kidnapping and murder attempts a child can endure before developing serious issues and self-destructive behaviors. We wouldn’t want her to grow up and, say, go to grad school.”
“Don’t worry,” Misery reassures me, “every day I drill into her that we’ll be disappointed in anything but a DJing career.”
“You’re such a good role model.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate