Page 14 of Alpha’s Hated Mate (Shifters of Clarion)

T he next two weeks are quiet. Every night, I stay with Saffron and I manage to keep my primal urges in check. It hasn’t been easy. These dorm rooms are dreadfully small, and while I make sure to sleep on the couch, I’m still only a few feet away from her bed, bathed in her sweet scent.

The only reprieve I have is during the day when I’m in class, for most of the day, anyway. When she’s near me, she occupies my mind . . . and maybe with all that’s happened, it’s gotten worse. I have this overwhelming need to protect her at all costs.

She . . . seems to appreciate my presence. She hasn’t said so, of course. She hasn’t even thanked me for being there. But when she wakes up, she looks for me. When I leave the room to go to the bathroom in the middle of night, she’s awake when I return. Tough as she might be, she’s relying on me.

And so far, she’s not had any visions or any sleepwalking or anything like that night with Chad and Yarra. The part of me feels like the whole “mind control” angle is bullshit and that everything will go back to normal. Well . . . whatever normal is supposed to be.

I’m sitting in the quad alone, listening to music in my headphones, trying to block my thoughts. When I’m not thinking about Saffron, I’m thinking about the visions and Natasha of Hino and this mysterious child she supposedly had. I can’t help but wonder who she was and why there are no real records of her life. She was a part of the royal court. There should be detailed records about her . . . shouldn’t there?

It was almost as if someone was trying to bury her story. And maybe Raphael’s, too. I guess what they say is true. History is written by the winners. Maybe their story was more complicated than what was told. Heaven forbid the people of Clarion should ever have sympathy for their devils . . .

A sharp pain hits my shin, and I open my eyes. Nadia is standing in front of me with her arms crossed and a furious look in her eye. I rub my shin as I take out my earbuds. “Did you just kick me?”

“Yes. I’ve been calling you all morning. What’s up with you? Are you avoiding me?”

She has been calling me all morning, but after everything that’s been happening, I’m not keen on talking to her about it just yet. I guess I’m still processing. I sigh and say, “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to talk about tonight?” I tilt my head, and she rolls her eyes, her scowl twisting into abject disappointment. “Damn it, I knew you forgot about the dinner.”

“What dinner? What are you talking about?”

“The big faculty dinner? I told you about it at the beginning of the semester. Remember?”

I blink at her. I don’t remember. And even if I did, who has time for some fancy dinner? “Sorry I forgot something you told me about once a million years ago.”

I get up to walk away, but she walks with me. “Don’t you walk away from me, Aydan Vaultmore. This is a big deal. You have to come. They are honoring our father.”

I stop and turn to her. “I’ve got too much to do, Nadia. Finals are coming up and—”

“Aydan, this isn’t optional. Dad gave so much to Moonhelm, and you’re the new Alpha. Do you have any idea how bad this will look for the pack if you don’t come?” I roll my eyes, and her scowl deepens. “I am serious , Aydan. This is a big fucking deal.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell you what. I’ll come on one condition. I get to bring a date.” She scoffs, so I add, “ And you can’t say shit about who I choose.”

“What do I care about your latest conquest?”

“Not latest. There’s only been one.” I hesitate. I haven’t told Nadia a thing about me and Saffron for a million reasons, but she’s not dumb. She’s seen me around with her. She has to suspect something.

And as if she was reading my mind, her face drops and her skin turns a slight shade of green. “No. Tell me you’re not talking about the Scarlet.”

“Her name is Saffron, and if you want me there tonight, she’s going to be on my arm. And you are going to keep your trap shut about it.”

She gapes at me in disbelief for a few seconds before spitting out, “But she’s dangerous , Aydan! You can’t bring a Scarlet to a high-class affair like this. At best, she’ll make off with the silverware and at worst, she’ll kill a member of the faculty—”

“Right, right. Get it all out of your system now because one crack like that at the dinner and it’ll be one short-ass night for me.”

She glares at me with big, hurting eyes. You’d think I was the one who kicked her in the shin. “Fine,” she says through clenched teeth. “Bring her. But Aydan,” she leans in and hisses, “you’d better not be fucking her.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” I say back in a low growl. “If I am, I wouldn’t be alive, right?” Her face goes from green to red and she backs off. As she stalks away, I say after her, “See you tonight.”

Now . . . to convince Saffron to come with me.

“No,” Saffron says with a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

I’m standing in her dorm room while she gets ready for class. She’s sitting at her desk in a black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and a black skirt that’s just short enough to show off her creamy thighs. She crosses her legs to put on her socks, and I have to force myself to look up at her face.

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not like you’re doing anything tonight.”

“I could be doing something,” she says. “Maybe I’ve got a date.”

“A date?” I practically growl. “With who ?”

She smirks at me. “I said maybe . Sheesh. A little bent out of shape there, huh?”

I clear my throat, but the jealousy is still thick in my chest. “Well, whatever you have planned, cancel it. I want you with me tonight.”

That makes her pause. Her one-sided smile fades a little as she looks up at me, legs crossed with one knee sock on one leg. “Say that again.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“You heard me,” I said.

“You’re not my Alpha.”

She’s taunting me in that way that drives me crazy. Her lip curls a little, and the blue in her eyes shine like a beacon.

“I am an Alpha and I said I want you with me tonight,” I say.

Satisfied, she uncrosses her legs and puts on the other sock.

“When you put it like that, Alpha Vaultmore,” she says, “I guess I have to say yes, don’t I?”

Hearing her call me “Alpha Vaultmore” makes me want to pin her down and tear off her clothes, but I push down the urge. “Good. I’ll be by to pick you up at seven.”

I turn to leave, and she says, “Hey, wait a second.”

I turn back around and see her walking toward me. She puts her hands on my chest and stands on her tiptoes, her lips meeting mine. We kiss and it’s slow and sweet, her tongue dancing with mine, her scent heavy in my nose.

She pulls away, and I’m breathless for a moment. She smiles up at me and says, “Thank you for staying with me. You didn’t have to do that.”

I just smile back at her. It’s all I can do, really. Somehow, Saffron’s managed to get me wrapped around her finger. “See you tonight.”

“See you,” she says.

Shatterstone is decked out tonight. Golden lanterns hanging from the rafters, and the amber glow of candles on every table. White linen tablecloths and china plates with gold rims, a dance floor only a few feet away with a live band playing jazz music. It’s all so well laid out. They must have been planning this for at least the better part of the year.

As we walk in, we’re greeted with automatic smiles as the guests see me, which falter as soon as they look over at Saffron, of course. You’d think with Scarlets making up ten percent of the student body, they’d have seen one before. Otherwise, everyone who’s anyone important is here tonight—the dean and most of the faculty including Professor Robertson. I did my best not to meet her gaze when we walked in, but I’m sure she noticed me. I feel a little silly now pretending that I had a “friend” that was sleeping with a Scarlet.

For the moment, we’re both just standing here taking it all in. Saffron breaks the silence and says, “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party as nice as this.”

She shuffles her feet a little. She’s wearing a form-fitting silver gown that falls off the shoulder, displaying her elegant neckline. Her long red hair is down, cascading past her shoulders and spilling over her bare arms. She’s . . . captivating.

She looks up at me, catches my stare, and smiles. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say.

Of course, the first people we see are Dean Fowler and Professor Robertson. Fowler’s silvery hair is pulled back into a ponytail like it always is, but somehow, in this light, it shines more like the precious metal it’s colored for. He’s wearing a dark suit and tie with gold cufflinks. The man looks like money tonight.

Professor Robertson has on a long, loose-fitting gown with silver tassels on the sleeves and her messy blonde hair tied up into an elegant bun. She looks classy and yet still very much like herself.

“Mr. Vaultmore,” Dean Fowler says as the two of them walk up to us. “I’m so glad you could be in attendance tonight. I doubt Moonhelm would still be operating if not for your father’s generous contributions.”

Saffron’s arm tightens against mine. I rest my hand on it in silent reassurance. “Yes. My father was big on education. It was very important to him.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Saffron,” Professor Robertson says, her smile widening. “You look lovely, dear. I love that dress.”

“Oh, this old thing?” Saffron adds a nervous laugh. “This was just in the back of my closet.”

I stifle my own laugh. The dress is Yarra’s. When I called on her this evening, she was there helping Saffron into the dress and using pliers to pull up the zipper because she’s at least half a size bigger than Yarra. I’m not complaining. The dress clings to her body like paint.

“We should probably mingle a little,” I say.

“Right. Oh, and Aydan?” Professor Roberston looks at me with her eyebrows raised and leans in. “Do remind your friend for me about Lamedia Hall?”

I nod stiffly as my face flushes. Guess I should have just told her the truth in the first place. As we walk away, Saffron asks, “What was that about? Lamedia Hall?”

“Ancient history,” is all I say.

There’s a table with refreshments in the corner, so we wander over. As I dip the ladle in the punchbowl to serve Saffron a glass, she snickers, “No chance it’s spiked, huh?”

“Unfortunately not,” I say. “We’ll be lucky to get wine at dinner.”

I hand her the glass of punch. She takes a sip and looks around at the large portraits on the wall. Past professors and faculty lined up and displayed like artwork. I think there are few places on the entire campus where there’s not at least one of those photos somewhere.

“I promised my sister I’d stay for dinner,” I say to her as I glance around the room for Nadia.

Saffron chuckles. “Where is she, anyway? You would think she’d be the first to greet us. Make sure I didn’t show up in a potato sack.”

The more I look around, the more I realize that Nadia is actually not here yet. That’s a little weird. “Probably just looking to make an entrance.” I think I’m saying that more for me than Saffron, to take the bite out of the idea that my sister begged me to come to a party she wouldn’t even attend.

“Maybe she’s trying to get her hair right or . . .”

Saffron’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on one of the photos across the room . . . and her face is slate. Her pale skin has gone sallow, and her eyes widen with fear.

“Saffron?”

She looks at me, then back over my shoulder. I turn and look, but I can’t tell what she’s looking at. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“It’s him,” she hisses. “Oh, my Goddess . . . it’s him .”

“Him, who?”

“That picture.” She points across the room to the photo of my father, hanging closest to the stage. It’s the only one out of place since he was never faculty at Moonhelm. It’s him in his forties—whitish blond hair and blue eyes, round glasses sitting on the edge of his pointed nose. He’s wearing a suit and tie and sitting in front of some generic background.

I’ve seen this photo countless times. It hangs in the main city building in Claymore in remembrance of him. There’s a smaller copy in my father’s office. We’ve even used it on programs for past events.

I’m still confused as to what Saffron is referring to, though. “The picture over there?” I ask her. “Of my father?”

She turns her eyes to me, and they widen slightly. “ What? ”

The air has changed around us, and the impending feeling of danger hangs between us. Still, I need to understand what’s upsetting her. “What’s wrong?”

She takes my glass of punch away and sets both of them on the table, then grabs my arm, dragging me across the room toward the picture. “This?” she says when we get to my father’s portrait. “This man is your father?”

“Yes. Alton Vaultmore. That’s him. What is it?”

I reach out to touch her, and she shrinks away, tears welling up in her eyes. “I have to go.”

She starts to leave, but I grab her arm. She yanks free and yelps, “Let me go!”

People nearby begin to stare at us. The embarrassment is going to have to wait. Saffron is rushing away from me like her dress is on fire.

I follow her outside just as she stops at the banister. She leans over it, holding her stomach while she takes in large gasps of air. “Hey, hey.” I put my arm around her, and she pushes me away. “Saffron, will you just talk to me? What’s happening?”

She takes a moment, looking down at the steps, her hands clasped and shaking. “Your father was the one who tortured her . . . experimented on her.”

“What?” I say with a laugh. “Experimented on . . . ?” Then it hits me. He’s the man in her visions. “Are you sure?”

“ Yes, I’m sure ,” she barks.

“All right. Calm down—”

“Calm down?! Are you serious right now? He-he tortured her! He had her bound to a table!”

“Saffron, stop it. You’re getting hysterical.”

“Of course I’m hysterical!” she shouted. “Why aren’t you?! Your father was a monster!”

If she’d slapped me, it would have hurt less, but I clench my teeth and bear it. “Look, I don’t know what that vision is about, but my father wouldn’t torture anyone. He wasn’t that kind of man.”

“You have no—”

She’s cut off by a sound like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It comes in low and rises fast, like the cresting and falling of a howl . . . but it’s raspy and guttural, like the wind screaming with a million voices. I cover my ears instinctively. She winces, stepping back and nearly stumbling down the stairs.

Then she stands straight up, her back as stiff as a board . . . and her eyes a vacant white.

“Saffron.” I reach out for her, and she growls at me, fangs bared. I jump back in surprise.

In the next moment, she’s down on all fours, and her body is changing. Her bones crack as they morph into wolf form. Muscles bulge as they tear through her dress, and crimson fur sprouts in large tufts over her body.

She leans into me and roars, her howl mingling with the ungodly noise all around us.