Chapter 19: The Morning After

Seraphine's POV

I woke up alone.

The realization hit me before I even opened my eyes. The other side of the room felt empty—no steady breathing, no presence that made my wolf settle into an uneasy calm.

Kaelen was gone.

I sat up slowly, sheets pooling around my waist. Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, painting everything in shades of gray and gold. The blankets he'd used were folded neatly on the floor near the window, corners precise like he'd been military-trained.

Of course he's already up. Probably been awake for hours.

My hand went to my neck automatically. The mark was still there—I could feel it without touching, a constant warm presence just below my jaw. Through the bond, I sensed him somewhere below. Distant but there, like a compass needle pointing south.

Stop it. Stop feeling for him.

But I couldn't help it. The bond was a living thing now, stretching between us whether I wanted it or not.

I threw the covers off and stood, wincing as my muscles protested. Everything ached—the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from crying yourself to sleep and waking up to find your nightmare was real.

Lyralei. Where are you?

The thought sent fresh pain lancing through my chest. My baby sister was out there somewhere, alone and scared, while I was stuck in a stranger's house wearing his mate mark like a collar.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you.

The self-loathing threatened to pull me under again. I shoved it down hard.

Not now. Get it together.

---

The bathroom was through a door I hadn't noticed last night. Someone had left towels and toiletries on the counter. Everything precisely arranged like they'd been expecting me.

I should've felt grateful. Instead, I just felt... hollow.

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. Once. Twice. Three times until the sting helped clear some of the fog from my brain.

When I finally looked up, the mirror showed me someone I barely recognized.

Pale skin. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes. Hair tangled and wild around my shoulders. And there, stark against my neck—

The mate mark.

It looked like someone had carved a crescent moon into my skin and filled it with liquid silver. The edges were precise, almost artistic in their symmetry. Beautiful, if you didn't know what it meant.

Property. That's what this is. A claim.

I grabbed a towel and pressed it hard against the mark, trying to cover it. But even through thick fabric, I could see the faint glow. Like it was mocking me.

You can't hide what you are now.

My reflection stared back—still wearing Kaelen's clothes from last night, the shirt hanging loose on my frame, sleeves rolled up to my elbows. I looked exactly like what I was.

Someone who belonged to someone else.

The rage came suddenly, burning through the numbness. I wanted to rip the mark off my skin. Claw it out. Make it stop glowing and pulsing and reminding me that I'd lost control of my own body.

This isn't me. I'm not someone's mate. I'm not—

But I was. Whether I wanted it or not.

I forced myself to breathe. To unclench my fists from the towel's edge.

You're not giving up. Not when Lyralei needs you.

Right. Lyralei. That's what mattered.

I could fall apart later.

---

The knock on the bedroom door made me jump.

"Just a second," I called out, my voice rough from sleep and crying.

I opened the door to find a woman I didn't recognize. She looked to be in her forties, with graying brown hair pulled back in a practical bun and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners. She wore simple clothes—dark pants and a loose sweater—but carried herself with quiet authority.

"Good morning," she said gently. "I'm Rowan. I manage the household here."

"Hi," I managed.

Rowan held out a bundle of fabric. "Alpha Kaelen asked me to bring these for you. He thought—" She paused, choosing words carefully. "He thought you might prefer your own clothes. Women's clothes."

I took the bundle automatically. It was soft under my fingers—quality fabric, not cheap. When I unfolded it, I found a simple but well-made outfit: dark jeans, a cream-colored sweater, undergarments still in packaging.

Everything looked like it would fit perfectly.

How does he know my size?

Through the bond, I felt a flicker of... something. Awareness, maybe. Like he knew I was thinking about him.

Stop that.

"Thank you," I said to Rowan, because what else could I say? That I didn't want his gifts? That accepting clothes felt like accepting this whole nightmare?

But I couldn't keep wearing his shirt forever.

"You're welcome, dear." Rowan's expression was sympathetic. "Alpha Kaelen and Miss Cordelia are in the dining room. They're waiting for you to join them for breakfast."

Of course they are.

"I'll be down in a few minutes."

Rowan nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

I stood there holding the clothes, feeling the weight of them in more ways than one.

He noticed I was uncomfortable. He did something about it.

That shouldn't have mattered. It didn't change anything about our situation.

But some traitorous part of me—probably my stupid wolf—felt... warmed by the gesture.

No. Absolutely not. Don't you dare start thinking he's considerate.

I changed quickly, shoving down every complicated feeling that tried to surface. The clothes fit like they'd been made for me. The sweater was soft and warm without being too thick. The jeans sat perfectly at my hips.

He's observant. That's all. Probably notices everything about everyone.

But the bond hummed with something that felt like quiet satisfaction.

I said stop that.

---

I'd been so out of it last night that I hadn't really looked at Shadowmere. Now, walking down the hallway toward the stairs, I couldn't help but notice.

The place was massive. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, broken up by stone archways that looked old—really old, like centuries-old. Tapestries hung at intervals, depicting wolves in various poses: hunting, fighting, standing sentinel under full moons.

Everything screamed power and history and pack.

Windows lined one wall, tall and narrow. Through them, I could see dense forest stretching in every direction. Pine trees mostly, their branches heavy with early morning mist. No other houses visible. No roads.

How far from civilization are we?

The isolation made my chest tight. This place felt like a fortress. Like once you were inside, there was no easy way out.

Stop. You're not a prisoner.

Aren't I though?

Voices drifted up from below—low conversation punctuated by the clink of dishes. As I got closer to what I assumed was the dining room, the bond flared stronger. My heart started beating faster without my permission.

He's in there. Close.

I paused at the top of the stairs, one hand on the banister.

You can do this. It's just breakfast. Just... existing in the same room as him.

But my wolf was already pushing forward eagerly, wanting to be closer to our mate.

He's not our mate. He's a complication we're stuck with.

I forced myself down the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last.

At the bottom, I could see an open doorway leading to what had to be the dining room. Warm light spilled out. The voices were clearer now—Cordelia saying something that made someone laugh softly.

I stopped just outside the door.

Last chance to run.

But where would I go? Lyralei was still missing. I had no pack, no money, no plan.

You're trapped. Might as well face it.

I took a breath.

Pushed the door open.

And immediately wanted to disappear.