Ex-Mate Wants Me Back (Seraphina and Mortimer) novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65

+15 Bonus

Third Person’s POV

Seraphina didn’t waste another word. She just got to work.

Mortimer pressed his lips into a thin line, his dark eyes fixed on her, silent for the first time.

As the layers of gauze came off, the white fabric was a bloated, crimson mess.

Without the Alpha healing factor to knit it back together, the wound looked jagged-angry, swollen, and raw.

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“The tear is too deep. You need stitches,” she said. “I’m going to flush it first. Hold steady.”

She tilted the bottle, and the cool Moon-herb wash poured directly into his mangled palm.

Mortimer’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, a low grunt escaping his throat. Even with the white-hot sting clawing at his nerves, his gaze stayed locked on the woman in front of him.

The calm, clinical energy coming off her fingertips was the only thing keeping the predator in his head from snapping.

She finished cleaning the site and spread a layer of numbing herbal gel over the tear.

“The local needs ten minutes to kick in. Don’t move. I’m going to grab the antibiotics.” Before he could even open his mouth,

she was out the door.

Mortimer had been rehearsing a speech in his head, but she’d cut him off before he could start.

He sat in the dead silence of the room, the seconds ticking by like lead, his anxiety spiking every time she didn’t reappear.

At exactly ten minutes, the door swung open. Seraphina was back, a pharmacy bag in her hand.

“Where were you?” Mortimer looked up, his voice dropping into a register that sounded dangerously close to whining.

Seraphina gave him a look like he’d grown a second head. “I told you. Getting the meds.”

“Why did it take so long?” He sounded like a ditched pup, his tone softening into something pathetic.

“There was a line,” she muttered, clearly not interested in the play-by-play.

She pulled out a crystalline needle and specialized reinforced suture thread, then grabbed his massive hand. “Still. We’re starting.”

Mortimer shut up. He realized then that she didn’t care about his answers; she just wanted his compliance.

This was the second time he’d watched her work up close. With her lashes low and her focus absolute, she looked almost untouchable. There was a sacred, frozen distance to her that made him feel like a trespasser in her world.

Because the gash hit the fascia, even a werewolf’s reinforced frame looked fragile.

She had to stitch it in layers, her movements fast, precise, and surgical.

“You’re not going to ask?” Mortimer finally broke.

He’d been waiting for it since they left the villa. Waiting for a flicker of curiosity, a hint of “mate” concern.

But Seraphina was acting like a total stranger.

She paused, her needle hovering over his skin.

She wanted to say I don’t give a damn, but that felt too much like an admission of anger.

So she gave him the bare minimum. “Fine. How did you do it?”

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Chapter G

+15 Bonus

The lone was so casual, so dismissive, it was like she was asking a stranger about the weather. 1

The answer he’d fought for tasted like asti. A knot of frustration tightened in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at her, the silence stretching until it felt like it would snap.

Just as she was finishing the final knot, Mortimer’s ragged voice shattered the quiet. “It’s not what it looked like.”

Seraphina froze. She looked up, blinking. “What?

“At the house. With Vivian. It’s not what you think.”

He held his breath, scanning her face for a crack, a spark of jealousy-anything.

His wolf was clawing at the walls of his mind, a mess of desperate hope and jagged nerves.

Seraphina didn’t bite.

She finished the knot, clipped the thread, and looked at him with a face made of glass. “I’m not thinking anything at all.”

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