Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Seraphina’s POV

I glanced at the timestamp. He’d sent the text exactly a few minutes after I’d climbed into the cab.

I’m in the habit of silencing my phone at the hospital, and I’d forgotten to flip the switch when I clocked out.

So, Mortimer’s text and his follow-up calls had just been vibrating into a void.

There was no point in replying now, so I just killed the screen and shoved the phone back into my bag.

When I opened the door to the Alpha villa, the place was pitch black.

“Is he still out?” That was my first thought.

I reached for the light switch, but a low, gravelly voice cut through the dark, nearly jumping me out of my skin. “You’re back.”

My heart did a frantic double-tap. As the foyer light flooded the room, the silence shattered.

Mortimer was sitting on the sofa, his posture stiff as a board.

“Why are the lights off?” I snapped, still trying to get my pulse under control. My face was probably ghost-white from the jump-

scare.

“Did you not see my iMessage?” Each word sounded like it was being ground between his teeth.

I thought about that silent notification. “Sorry. Phone was on mute.”

Mortimer went mute.

I’ve noticed lately that while I’m being perfectly “nice,” every word I say acts like a brick wall.

If he tried to push it any further, he’d just look like he was throwing a tantrum.

He surged off the sofa, radiating ten hours of bottled-up frustration.

He marched toward me, his Alpha aura fluctuating wildly-heavy, predatory, and suffocating.

“You-” He started to bark, but then he froze.

A thick cloud of patchouli hit his nose. It was deep, woody, and unmistakably masculine-the kind of scent a male werewolf wears when he’s trying to mark his territory or issue a challenge.

The words died in Mortimer’s throat.

This wasn’t just a faint whiff from passing someone in the hall.

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To his predatory senses, it was an invitation. It was wrapped around me like a blanket, as if another male wolf had been standing in my personal space, practically “marking” me.

In that second, Mortimer’s pheromones snapped. The jealousy hit him like a physical blow, and his Alpha aura exploded through the living room like a tidal wave.

His face went through three different shades of dark. I could feel the atmosphere turning toxic, but I had no idea why and I wasn’t about to ask.

I kicked off my shoes and tried to walk past him, but his hand clamped onto my arm.

His grip was heavy, his fingers trembling with a rage he couldn’t quite tuck away. His eyes were pinned to mine, dark and jagged.

“Trista said you left over an hour ago. Where the hell have you been?”

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Iblinked, genuinely surprised

He’d actually gone to the center? He’d rutt into Trista?

I assumed that after I ghosted his calls, he’d just give up and go back to his own life. I didn’t think he’d drive across half of LA just to play chauffeur.

But the way he was interrogating me made my bload boil. He was overstepping.

When he spends half the night at Vivian’s place, I don’t turn into a control freak.

Who the hell did he think he was, acting like I’d betrayed the pack just because I wasn’t home on the dot?

I let out a dry, internal laugh. The Alpha of the Blades was a world-class hypocrite.

Third Person’s POV

Mortimer didn’t miss the look in Seraphina’s eyes. The rejection.

“She’s… annoyed by me?” He looked stunned.

His eyes widened, and he stood there like he’d been slapped.

He couldn’t process it.

Not long ago, every time she looked at him, her eyes were swimming with a devotion words couldn’t even touch.

Now? There was nothing. Just a flat, dead silence.

The realization was a knife to his brain. Panic flared, and his grip tightened without him even realizing it.

The raw force of it made Seraphina gasp. “You’re hurting me.”

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