The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Sexual Harassment (Complimentary). Then Agnes.

Serena’s eyes opened to blur and warmth and the outline of a face she knew.

Elara launched off the chair and starfished her. "I left you. I know you told me to, and I know you’ll tell me it was the right call, and I don’t care. I’m still furious about it."

Pain flared through Serena’s ribs, but she did not make a sound. She wrapped one arm around Elara.

"I’m proud of you for listening to me. That might be a first."

Elara gave a wet laugh and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

A man crossed the room, placing two jars of opaque white liquid on her bedside table. "Drink both of these. Don’t ask what’s in them. You won’t like the answer."

Under normal circumstances, Serena would not have touched it. But her mouth felt like sand, and her throat burned with thirst.

She emptied the first and immediately reached for the second.

"I am Alaric Kestrel. Head Healer of Drakenfell." He pulled a heavy chair towards the bed, the wood scraping against the stone floor, then dropped into it with a weary exhale, crossing one booted ankle over his knee.

"You are Serena Silverveil. Restrained in silver for one year. And lucky to be alive. Recovery will be slow for your wolf."

Serena frowned. "My wolf?"

She had accepted long ago that whatever wolf she was born with had been burned out of her.

"When the wolf dies, the person dies with it. You are alive, which means so is your wolf."

Serena didn’t react, filing that information for another day when she was less dead.

"You look as dangerous as a startled lamb. Why would someone chain you in silver?"

She didn’t usually share information easily, but something in his expression told her he already knew the answer.

"I tried to escape. Twice."

Alaric’s eyes darkened. "Viremont?"

"Yes."

When he left, Elara helped Serena wash, careful around every injury. "You look like hell."

"Still better-looking than you."

"Bold words for someone who spent the last year as haunted decor."

She tossed Serena a black training suit, zippered up the back with the Drakenfell insignia at the shoulder. A black floor-length cloak was folded beneath it.

Serena pulled it on and zipped up the back. It was comfortable, but slightly too loose.

She flashed a smile at Elara. "Now we match."

"Shut up. And yes. We do."

Alaric appeared in the doorway. "Fine. You might as well see where you are. Just don’t pass out."

Serena fell into step beside Elara, following him through the corridor. "Aren’t you busy?"

"Extraordinarily," he answered flatly. "Prince Dexmon personally retrieved you twice, and left clear instructions that you were not to be left unattended until you were properly oriented."

At the words Prince Dexmon, Serena’s foot caught on the edge of a runner.

She pitched forward before she could stop herself.

✦✦✦

Eyes followed Serena unapologetically.

People froze mid-step. Conversations cut off halfway. A warrior dropped a piece of his armor.

She kept her gaze forward, pretending not to notice.

When a passing healer walked into a column, Alaric cleared his throat.

"For the record, he was staring because we hadn’t expected you to be walking today."

Elara nodded. "Don’t worry. She gets stares quite often. When she’s not chained up that is."

Serena shot her a look.

"She is quiet," Alaric commented.

Elara snorted, "Yes, but don’t let that fool you. She’s sharper than a blade."

Serena huffed. "Gods, I am right here."

"You will make enemies quickly." Alaric glanced at Serena. His tone was matter-of-fact, his attention assessing rather than admiring. "Both of you will. Whichever god thought to pair you as friends showed a remarkable lack of mercy."

Elara grinned. "What? You’ve never seen a redheaded vixen and a white-haired menace in the wild?"

Serena shook her head, rolling her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

Noticing the blatant stares, Dexmon turned slightly, angling himself just enough to place Serena at his side without touching her. But the message was clear.

The hall resumed its quiet movement, the stares suddenly far more cautious than curious.

"You’ll have to excuse us," Dexmon said.

"Dexmon," a woman’s voice called from down the hall.

Serena’s blood went cold. Her heart thudded and her body flooded with adrenaline. An automatic reflex, developed over four years.

Beside her, Elara inhaled sharply, hands trembling.

Serena gave her hand a brief squeeze. A we’ve survived worse squeeze.

Agnes Viremont stood at the far end of the hall. Dark curly hair. A gown worth more than most people earned in a lifetime.

Alaric shifted slightly, positioning himself between them and Agnes’s line of sight.

Serena stopped breathing. Neither she nor Elara looked up.

For one terrible moment, she was back in chains. Back kneeling on stone floors while this woman walked past without breaking stride. This woman who viewed Serena like she was scum.

Agnes’s eyes passed over her, then settled on Dexmon.

"I was not expecting you until tonight," Dexmon said evenly.

"Clearly."

The single word carried enough ice to cool the corridor.

Agnes turned and walked away without waiting for a response. As if her dismissal was a punishment.

Dexmon turned to follow her, Gavriel behind him.

Serena exhaled slowly, keeping her composure.

Agnes hadn’t recognized her.

Yet.

They were almost out of the corridor when Gavriel turned around and called back down the hall.

"I’ll be back for you, Serena."