The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18: A Woman’s Blade

Her lungs collapsed inside his chest a second time, and Dexmon stopped mid-step, but forced himself to keep moving.

Alaric and Hyran were in the halls in a flash, Dexmon right behind them, boots pounding stone as panic fractured the air.

Hyran did not slow. He opened a portal on the run, the edges snapping gold, straight into the infirmary, level one. Emergency ward.

Gavriel carried Serena into a private room, and laid her on the bed.

She coughed, blood spilling from her mouth in a horrifying amount, splattering on the white sheets. She gasped, sharp and panicked, chest hitching as if her lungs refused to work.

"No," Dexmon breathed.

He was at her side instantly, hauling her upright and pulling her back hard against his chest. His arms locked around her like iron.

"She can’t breathe when she’s flat," he gritted out, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. He knew it with bone-deep certainty because her pain was his pain. Her panic clawed through him, raw and suffocating.

He could feel her dying the way a building knows when the foundation shifts. Every instinct he had, wolf and man, screamed the same word: hold. So he held. Like holding was a weapon. Like holding could keep death from taking what was his.

Alaric skidded to a stop at the doorway, already assessing. "Your instincts are correct. Keep her upright."

Then he was gone again, sprinting down the hall.

Serena shuddered, blood staining her lips as she struggled for air. Dexmon pressed his forehead to her temple.

"I’ve got you," he said, fierce and low. "I’m here. Stay with me."

Gavriel stiffened at the sight, but he stayed silent.

Alaric returned moments later, antidote already drawn. He did not hesitate, driving the needle straight into her sternum.

Everyone winced.

Gavriel muttered under his breath, "Right in the sternum. Not even a warning. That man treats bedside manner like a suggestion."

Serena did not even register it. Compared to the agony ripping through her, it was nothing.

Her lashes fluttered, eyes sliding closed as the antidote surged into her system.

Dexmon felt it working before anyone said a word. The pain began to fade. Her breathing stuttered, then steadied, shallow but no longer desperate.

Gavriel looked at Dexmon’s white-knuckled grip on Serena and wisely chose not to comment. A first.

King Tiberon appeared in the doorway at that moment, presence snapping the room into order. Even the I.V. drip seemed to straighten.

His sharp gaze took in the blood.

"Blood like this...I have seen before."

Hyran straightened, irritation cutting through his usual detachment. "Yes. I believe it is Bloodpetal’s Kiss. Dark magic threaded through Bloodpetal Rose, which is fatally poisonous on its own."

King Tiberon’s eyes shifted to Dexmon, measuring. "Are you certain it was Agnes?"

"I am certain, but I have no proof. Both Agnes and Mother are responsible." Dexmon said, still holding Serena unapologetically. His arms were locked around her keeping her upright against his chest, and he had no intention of letting go. Never again would he fail to be at her side.

Gavriel dragged a hand down his face. "She was across the room when it happened. Crowded hall. Dozens of witnesses. No direct line back to her."

Hyran let out a sharp breath, annoyance flaring. "That fits. Bloodpetal’s Kiss is not designed for efficiency. It is meant to torture before it kills."

His eyes flicked to Serena then back to Tiberon. "A woman’s, blade as some say. Used when it is personal."

Elara and Hale rushed into the room at that moment. Elara’s eyes were already red, but her expression shifted from distress to outright horror at the sight of blood.

"She will live," Alaric said immediately at her reaction, his tone authoritative enough to steady her before the tears came. "A standard antidote is effective against this poison, fortunately. However," his eyes flicked to Hyran, "the dark magic must be extracted."

She let out a breath that might have been a sob if it hadn’t been bullied into submission by sheer willpower.

He moved without ceremony, injecting Serena’s arm with another measured dose before hanging an I.V. and adjusting the flow.

Hyran stepped closer, already rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for unpleasant work. "Keep her upright. But move your arms. I do not want the corruption touching you."

Dexmon looked at Hyran like he’d been asked to hand over a kidney.

Hyran gave him a flat, unimpressed look right back.

Dexmon shifted just enough to comply. Serena never left his chest. He adjusted, not released.

Gavriel watched the performance. "That’s not moving your arms. That’s rearranging them with attitude."

Dexmon ignored him with the precision of a man who had been ignoring Gavriel for years and had turned it into an art form.

Hyran lifted his hands over her sternum. Gold magic ignited beneath his skin, a harsh, visceral glow that pulsed outward.

Black magic clawed its way out of Serena’s chest, like smoke dragged backward against its will. It writhed before meeting Hyran’s magic and disintegrated on contact. His hands flared brighter, teeth gritting as he burned it away.

He held it there longer than necessary.

Then the glow faded.

"I do not sense any more."

Immediately, Dexmon’s arms slid back around Serena’s waist, pulling her closer under the excuse of helping her sit straighter.

The excuse fooled no one. Hyran raised an eyebrow. Alaric didn’t bother. He’d been treating Dexmon since he was six. He knew every tell the prince had, including the ones Dexmon thought he’d outgrown. He had not.

King Tiberon broke the quiet. "Has Agnes interacted with her?"

Elara opened her mouth, but Gavriel beat her to it.

"Yes. Earlier today, during the dress fitting. Agnes struck her across the face and cut her dress."

Dexmon’s eyes darkened. He hadn’t known.

Hale answered, part amusement and part disbelief. "Oh, it’s exactly as it sounds. She had a blade hidden in her bracelet and sliced it."

Gavriel’s lips twitched. "Multi-purpose jewelry. Slap, slash, poison. Efficient. All the rage."

"Most importantly," he added, glancing at Hale with a grin that did not belong in a medical ward, "it is not yet midnight."

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