Chapter 31 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ALORA
The day before my birthday dawns gray and cold. I wake with the fever still burning beneath my skin, my eyes brighter than ever. Every hour brings the changes closer to the surface.
I dress carefully, trying to hide the trembling in my hands. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself—my skin has an unnatural glow, my eyes hold flashes of red I can't quite suppress.
A knock on the connecting door makes me jump.
"Breakfast will be served in my chambers this morning."
Alpha Stone's voice is controlled, business-like. The same tone he's used all week.
"Yes, my Lord."
I make my way through the connecting door with the breakfast tray Sarah left outside my room. He's already dressed for the day, standing by his desk reviewing documents.
"Set it there." He doesn't look up, gesturing to the small table.
I obey, pouring his tea with hands that shake slightly. The silence stretches, broken only by the rustle of papers.
"You're trembling." His voice is flat, observational.
"I'm cold, my Lord."
"You're never cold." He finally looks up, his silver eyes assessing. "You run hot. Always. Yet now you claim to be cold?"
I don't answer, keeping my focus on the tea.
"Your scent has changed," he says conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "Sweeter. More... potent. The unmated males have noticed. I've had to increase rotations to keep them away from this wing."
My hands are still on the teapot. "I apologize if I've caused trouble, my Lord."
"I didn't ask for an apology. I'm stating a fact." He sets down his papers. "Tomorrow is your birthday."
"Yes, my Lord."
"And you're planning to run tonight."
The accusation makes my blood run cold. "My Lord, I—"
"Don't insult my intelligence." He stands, moving to the window. "The guards reported increased activity in your quarters. Late-night pacing. Checking the hallway repeatedly. The behavior of someone planning an escape."
I force myself to breathe evenly. "I'm just nervous about my birthday, my Lord. Eighteen is—"
"An important age. Yes, you've said." He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. "Particularly important for wolves with... unique characteristics."
The way he says it makes my skin prickle. Does he suspect? How much does he know?
"I'm wolfless, my Lord. My birthday won't change that."
"Won't it?" He moves closer, studying my face. "Then explain why your eyes have been brighter. Why your skin glows. Why every instinct I have says something significant is going to happen tomorrow."
"I don't know what you mean—"
"Stop." The command is quiet but absolute. "I'm tired of the lies, Alora. But I'm not going to force the truth from you. Not yet."
He returns to his desk, picking up a document. "You're being moved to the east wing this evening. The isolated quarters there. For your own protection."
"Protection from what, my Lord?"
"From whatever happens tomorrow." His eyes meet mine. "And from anyone who might take advantage of your... condition."
"I don't need protection—"
"That's not your decision to make." His voice hardens. "You're my property. My responsibility. And I will decide how best to manage both."
The words sting, a reminder of what I am to him. Property to manage.
"Yes, my Lord."
"The east wing chambers are comfortable. Private. You'll have everything you need." He returns to his papers, dismissing me with a gesture. "Pack your things. Sarah will help you move this afternoon."
"May I ask how long I'll be there?"
"As long as necessary." He doesn't look up. "Until I determine you're no longer a risk to yourself or others."
I want to ask what he means, want to demand answers. But I'm just a slave, and slaves don't demand anything.
"Yes, my Lord."
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
"Alora."
I pause at the door.
"Whatever happens tomorrow—whatever you're so afraid of—running won't solve it. It will only make things worse." His tone softens slightly. "The Northern Pack is still hunting. If you leave my protection, you'll be vulnerable."
"Perhaps that would be better—"
"For who? For you? To die alone in the wilderness rather than trust me to keep you safe?" Now there's an edge to his voice. "Or is it that you don't trust yourself?"
The observation hits too close. I don't trust what will happen when my blood-wolf nature manifests. Don't trust that I can control it.
Don't trust what I might reveal.
"I trust you, my Lord," I say quietly. "It's myself I don't trust."
"Then it's fortunate that I'll be in control, isn't it?" He finally looks up, his expression unreadable. "Dismissed."
I flee to my quarters, my heart pounding. He suspects something. Knows tomorrow is important. And he's locking me away to observe whatever happens in a controlled environment.
Like a scientist studying a specimen.
Sarah finds me packing an hour later, her expression troubled.
"The east wing?" she asks quietly. "That's where they put dangerous wolves. Ones who've lost control or pose a threat."
"Apparently that's what I am now." I fold a robe mechanically. "A threat."
"To who?"
"To everyone. To myself. To..." I stop, not wanting to voice the truth. To him.
Through the connecting door, I hear voices. Alpha Stone and Marcus, discussing security protocols.
"The chambers are reinforced. Silver-lined. If she tries to break out—"
"She won't." Alpha Stone's voice carries certainty. "She's too smart for that. But I want guards posted anyway. No one gets in or out without my permission."
"And tomorrow? When whatever this is happens?"
"I'll be there. Monitoring. Taking notes." A pause. "We'll finally get answers."
Taking notes. Like I'm an experiment. A puzzle to solve.
I sink onto my bed, the reality settling in. Tomorrow, he'll see what I am. And instead of fearing me or killing me, he'll study me.
Decide what use I can be to his pack.
Determine my value as property.
It shouldn't hurt as much as it does. I'm just a slave. This was always going to be my fate.
But some foolish part of me had started to hope for something different. Something more.
That part dies now.
Tomorrow, I become whatever Alpha Stone decides I am.
And I have no say in the matter at all.