Page 8 of Alpha’s Hated Mate (Shifters of Clarion)

S he’s tied to a table.

A pregnant wolf with dark hair and eyes struggles against her bonds. Thin streaks line her pale, filthy cheeks, and dirt cakes the hem of her tattered white gown. Her bare feet are almost black with mud.

Her lips move, but I can’t hear her voice. Tears run down her face as she looks off into the darkness. She wants to be let go. Her eyes begging to be freed.

A man steps into the light. He has white hair, pale blue eyes, and tanned skin. For an older man, he’s terribly handsome—strong jawline, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. Despite his tall and imposing frame, there’s nothing about him that suggests that he’s a guard or a soldier.

He leans over her. Time slows down, and I can read his lips. For the greater good . . .

His hand brandishes a huge syringe. It’s empty with the plunger pushed down. The thick needle looks six inches long. The woman’s eyes widen with panic, and suddenly, her fear runs through me like an icy knife. She thrashes against the restraints one more time in vain.

Stop it! I yell, though no one can hear me. Let her go!

The man moves a step down the table before inserting the needle into the woman’s pregnant belly. Her screams are silent but pain floods her face.

STOP! I lunge forward to reach for her, but the scene changes.

It looks like the same place but a different room. The white-haired man is surrounded by beakers and laboratory equipment, like a mad scientist. The air is dank and musty with a hint of a burned smell.

Behind him looms a cell with metal bars and concrete walls. The dark-haired woman is seated on the ground within the enclosure, still clad in the tattered white gown.

He holds a small syringe now filled with red liquid. I can hear him speak this time.

“This is it,” he says. “Everything we’ve worked toward.”

The woman looks on anxiously as he injects the red liquid into his arm. The sound of a baby cries in the background.

I jolt awake, cold and shivering . . .

“Saffron! Oh, thank God.”

Everything around me is white. I squint as the world blends back into view, and Yarra’s purple hair comes into focus. Her eyes stare down at me, wide and worried.

And all at once, I realize where I am. I’m lying on the floor of the locker room shower, naked, my skin still wet.

Shit . . . I’ve had another vision.

“Back up! Give her some room!”

Professor Kayne bursts into the showers, and suddenly, I realize everyone else in class is gathered around me. They all do as they’re told and back away as the professor covers me with a large towel and helps me sit up.

“Saffron?” Yarra takes my hands. “Honey, say something.”

My mouth is dry, and my damp hair is sticking to my face. “Something,” I respond.

She laughs, and it’s a sound of utter relief.

Professor Kayne says, “We should get her to the infirmary.”

“I’m fine,” I manage to say, pushing myself into a seated position.

“You could have hit your head.”

Everyone looks confused, like I’d just changed into a giant Fairy. Yarra’s eyes are filled with concern. No one moves. Not even the professor.

“Really, I’m fine. I just need a little rest.” I plead with Yarra. “Please?”

“O-okay. . .” Yarra turns to Professor Kayne. “I’ll take her back to her room. She just needs a little rest.”

Professor Kayne nods and stands up. “All right, you heard her. Nothing to see here.” He shoos everyone away, and Yarra and I are alone in the shower.

She helps me to my feet. “Let’s get some clothes on and get out of here.”

Yarra gave me space to get my thoughts together as we got dressed. Everyone else in the class gave us a wide berth. Thank goodness for small favors.

She doesn’t say anything to me until we’re outside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I pause. I don’t know how to talk about this vision. I guess it’s because it’s different this time. After a moment of silence, I tell Yarra about it. She listens as we talk on our way back to the dorm. When I get back to my room, she stays silent, her lips pursed as she analyzes what I’ve said.

I lie down on my bed, and as soon as my face hits the cool pillow, I feel like I could fall asleep right here. Visions sometimes take a lot out of me.

“You know, maybe Professor Kayne was right. You should see a healer or something.”

I groan into my pillow in response.

“Saffron?”

I turn my head to her and say, “I heard you. What’s a healer supposed to do? Scarlets have visions. I had a vision. My body is doing what it’s supposed to.”

“But the vision doesn’t sound like the kind you usually have. Aren’t they supposed to . . . predict the future? Plus, the sleepwalking lately? I think something’s wrong, Saffron.”

I don’t want her to worry, but she’s got a point. More than she knows, actually. I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. “I’ve got something to tell you about the night of the party.”

She freezes, her worried glare intensifies as her brows crease. “Oh, God. What did you do?”

“Hey. Why does it have to be something I did?”

“Well, is it something you did?”

I pause. Goddess, why is she making this harder than it has to be? She leans in and asks, “What happened?”

“I just . . . slept with Aydan Vaultmore.”

Her jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me. I thought you hated him?”

“I thought I did, too. I was pretty sure he didn’t care for me, either, but that didn’t stop us from fucking each other.”

She slides down into the chair next to my desk, her hand on her cheek and her eyes wide with shock. “Oh, my God. You know, Nadia’s going to lose her mind if she finds out.”

“I’m not worried about Nadia. I’m more worried about . . .” I stop myself, closing my eyes as I think back to that night. His hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, the sound of his voice in my ear as I imploded in his arms . . .

Yarra tilts her head and says, “Wait a second. I thought Scarlets could only have sex with Neutrals? Does that mean that he’s—?”

“I don’t know. It’s . . . it’s weird. I didn’t think Alphas could be Neutrals, but given that he’s walking around with his head still attached . . .” We both go quiet for a minute as I realize I now have to explain the finer points of this whole problem with Aydan.

“And for the record, it’s not that I can’t have sex with non-Neutrals. I just can’t . . . well, we’re not supposed to reach completion, if you know what I mean.”

She blinks, and I watch as the implications run through her mind. “For males, too?”

I nod. “You’d be surprised how many male Scarlets just stay virgins because of that little detail.”

She still looks confused, but she doesn’t press it. So I move on.

“The point is that I’m wondering if being in close proximity to Aydan is . . . messing me up somehow. Like, I’ve been running hot since we slept together. I can smell him so much more clearly now—”

“You think it means that he’s your fated?” she asks in a small voice.

“Please.”

“I’m just saying, I said the same thing about Chad when we first met. Remember? I kept going on about how good he smells?”

I roll my eyes. This is not the same thing as them. They were meant to be together. The dynamics were entirely different. “He can’t be my fated,” I explain. “Whatever he is, he’s still an Alpha, and Scarlets don’t become Lunas. Ever . Not in our whole history. It was . . . a fluke. A fluke that might’ve made my whole condition worse somehow.”

“Well, I don’t know, Saffron.” She crosses her arms, her brow furrowing as she thinks it over. “You were sleepwalking before he even got here. Maybe it’s all just coincidence.”

I scoff. “That might fly in the Outer Lands, but not here. Usually, odd things mean something.”

Her frown deepens. “So what are you saying? You want to talk to him about it?”

I think about how easily he subdued me in class. Just a whisper in the right tone in my ear and I melt in his arms. It’s never happened before with anyone. I don’t understand why it happened at all. He may or may not be a Neutral, and the sleepwalking might be totally unrelated, but I am changing, and being around him seems to be making it worse.

“I think,” I say finally, “I sort of have to at some point.”

She nods and says, “Then it’s settled. Have a chat with him. In the very least, you might get some clue about what’s happening to you.”

Maybe. Or maybe for the first time in my life, none of this means anything. I can dream, can’t I?