Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Seraphina’s POV

I stopped eating and set my fork down. A flicker of genuine surprise hit me, and the words slipped out before I could stop them “So… are you not feeling well?”

The Blade Healing Center, owned by the Craig Group, was the premier werewolf medical facility in LA. It had the best medical team in the States, catering exclusively to socialites and

the elite.

As the Alpha of the Blades, if Mortimer had so much as a headache, he’d be there, not here at my workplace. It made zero sense.

Mortimer went quiet for a beat. Then he ground his teeth, his voice dropping an octave. “Did it ever occur to you that I came here specifically for you?”

This time, the shock hit harder.

But it only lasted a second. I quickly reset my expression, picked up my utensils, and went back to finishing my lunch. My tone was steady. “Do you need something?”

Mortimer watched me, a flash of frustration crossing his face.

I could hear his jaw ticking—a faint grinding sound—as the air pressure around him plummeted. He was leaking a heavy, oppressive aura. “I sent you a text. I asked you to lunch. Did you not see it?”

I stiffened. Right. I remembered the notification from this morning.

I’d strategically ignored it.

Experience had taught me that a “date” with Mortimer àlways came with fine print — emergency meetings or Vivian’s latest drama.

He always had a million reasons to leave me standing alone.

Eventually, I just stopped taking his invites seriously.

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“Oh. Right. Sorry.” I looked up and gave him a polite, clinical smile. “I was in a long surgery all morning. Didn’t have time to check my phone.”

I pushed down the old, familiar bitterness and pointed at my nearly empty tray. “I’m almost done, so I can’t really join you. But if you don’t mind, feel free to grab something here in the staff cafeteria.”

I pulled my healing center ID badge out and slid it toward him. “You can use my card.”

It was a courtesy move. Purely performative.

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There was no way an Alpha like Mortimer would eat mystery meat in a hospital basement.

I was already planning my exit when his hand shot out. His fingertips brushed the edge of the card before he deftly tucked it away.

“Thanks,” he said.

My heart skipped a beat. Shit.

That ID badge was my everything-payment system, door access, security clearance. If he had it, I was stuck here until he gave it back.

I felt a frown tugging at my brow. “Courtesy is a trap,” I thought.

Mortimer caught the look of instant regret on my face. One eyebrow arched. “What? Afraid to treat me to a meal?”

I stopped moving and gestured to the badge in his hand. “Just go buy whatever you want. I have to get back to work soon. Patients are waiting.”

I tried to rush him, but he didn’t budge. He just sat there, twirling my ID between his fingers, his dark eyes boring into me.

The air turned thick, and that cedar scent began to wrap around me like a coil, making it hard to breathe. 1

The weight of his stare started to grate on my nerves. I was about to snap at him to hurry up when he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “Séraphina, do you not want to see me?”

The irritation I felt was instantly suppressed by the chill of his tone. My body reacted before my brain did. “No.”

“You’re a trauma healer. No one schedules complex surgeries during the lunch hour.”

Mortimer’s voice was cold. It carried the weight of an Alpha’s aura, and he used it to strip my

lie bare.

My heart sank. I opened my mouth to scramble for another excuse, but I knew I’d lost this round.

“Or are you going to tell me you hopped out of your scrubs mid-operation, ran to the cafeteria for a quick bite, and were planning to head straight back into the theater?”

The sarcasm hit like a slap.

Before I could find my voice, he spoke again. “Seraphina, you’re repulsed by me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

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+15 Bonus

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