The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 257

Chapter 257: Co-Mate Pact: No Gavriels Allowed

Thor Crushturn stood at attention in the doorway of Dex’s office like a man receiving a medal he hadn’t earned but fully intended to frame.

"Commander." He held up the rolled periodical with both hands, presenting it the way a squire might present a sword. "Fresh off the press. My source in the eastern market held this copy for me personally. I was told, and I quote, ’Crushturn, you are the only man alive who deserves the first read.’ Her words."

Dex took it. "Her?"

"I protect my sources, Commander. That’s intelligence tradecraft. You’d know that if you read more." Thor paused. "Page nine has a section on Alpha stamina. I was cited as a benchmark. Anonymously, but I know it’s me."

Dex flipped to page nine. There was no such section.

"There’s nothing here about stamina."

Thor leaned forward and squinted. "Hmm. Must be the uncut edition. I’ll get you that one next month. There’s a waitlist, Commander. I’m on it. Twice, actually. Once under my name and once under an alias I invented for security purposes."

There was no uncut edition.

Dex tucked the Knotty Omega into his desk drawer. "Keep this between you and me. Every time a new copy surfaces, I want it."

Thor’s chest expanded so fast it was a medical event.

"Commander." His voice dropped to a whisper that carried across the entire office. "You have my word. Brotherhood. Sealed. I will guard this with my life."

"Your life is unnecessary. A mindlink will do."

"Noted. But the offer stands. I would die for this."

"Please don’t."

Thor snapped off a salute that could have been used in recruitment posters, pivoted on his heel, and marched out of the office with the posture of a man who had just been entrusted with the kingdom’s most classified intelligence operation.

He made it six steps past the threshold before his voice carried back down the corridor.

"MAKE WAY. OFFICIAL BUSINESS. CRUSHTURN ON ASSIGNMENT."

Two cadets pressed themselves against the wall. A handler carrying feed buckets looked up, confused. Styx, who had been dozing at the far end of the dragon field, opened one eye and closed it again. The dragon had made peace with Thor the way one makes peace with weather: by enduring it.

Dex leaned back in his chair.

Aegon: He is going to tell everyone within the hour.

Dex: I know. But he’ll think he’s keeping a secret, and that’s the part that matters.

Aegon: You are manipulating the dumbest wolf in Drakenfell.

Dex: I am delegating to an enthusiastic volunteer.

✦✦✦

Dex stepped out of his office and paused at the ridge.

Below, the juvenile dragon formation was running ground drills. Thornton was calling three-counts. The larger juveniles fumbled through the sequence with the coordination of recruits who resented every second of structure.

Onyx was in the middle of it.

He held position. Executed the count. Stopped when told. Moved when told. Every command was followed by the baby dragon who clearly understood formations and found the entire exercise beneath him.

His gold eyes swept the line of juveniles on either side of him with an expression that said, very clearly, that he had mastered this drill four sessions ago and was now being punished for the sins of dragons who could barely walk in a straight line.

A larger juvenile stumbled out of formation and bumped Onyx’s flank. Onyx looked at the dragon. Then at Thornton. Then back at the dragon. His expression communicated a detailed performance review that the juvenile would have failed.

He returned to position. Held it. Sighed through his nostrils with the defeated patience of a prodigy trapped in a remedial class.

Dex watched for another thirty seconds, then turned to Morholt, who had appeared beside him with a clipboard.

"Pull Onyx out of ground drills."

Morholt looked at him.

"He’s wasting time down there. Put him on aerial prep exclusively. Foam pit for takeoff repetitions. I want his launches clean before he moves to the second pit for glide work. Wings out, full extension, coasting. Get him comfortable carrying his own weight in the air before we ask him to do anything with it. That’s his curriculum now."

Morholt made a note. Then a second note. Then he looked at the field where Onyx was executing a hold so clean it made the dragon twice his size look incompetent by comparison.

"Yes, Commander."

✦✦✦

Fin was at the eastern edge of the field, observing the sparring rotations.

Dex approached. "Shadowclaw. A word?"

Fin turned. Read Dex’s face in under a second. Whatever he found there was enough to change his posture from observation to attention.

Fin exhaled then shook his head. "Your father sent Gavriel."

"My father sent Gavriel."

The mutual incredulity was instant and identical. Fin’s expression shifted into something Dex had only seen twice before: the dry, barely-there amusement of a man who had spent his entire adult life commanding armies and navigating councils and still managed to be blindsided by the decisions of older men who should have known better.

"Tiberon is a brilliant strategist," Fin said, his tone carrying the diplomatic precision of a compliment that was also a criticism.

"He is." Dex paused. "Until women are involved. Then he’s an idiot."

Fin’s composure cracked. The laugh that escaped him was short, surprised, and genuine, the kind that only happened when a man heard something he had been thinking but hadn’t expected to hear spoken aloud. His hand came up and covered his mouth for half a second before he caught himself.

It was the laugh of a king who had diplomatic immunity and intended to use it recreationally.

"That’s a direct quote I will be keeping."

"Use it wisely."

"I intend to use it at the worst possible moment."

Dex grinned. The grin of a man who had just armed a foreign king with ammunition against his own father and found the trade acceptable.

The irony of the two of them standing in this office, united against Gavriel Sterling, was thick enough to cut with a blade. Two men who had fought over Serena Frostborne, bled over her, nearly killed each other in her name, were now co-mating her and forming a unified front against the one man who made them both twitchy.

It was a co-existence held together by mutual respect, a shared mate, and the unspoken agreement that if either of them acknowledged how absurd this arrangement was, the whole thing would collapse.

Somewhere in the universe, the gods who designed the matebond were watching this scene and checking their notes, because this was absolutely not how it was supposed to work, and yet here they were.

Separately, they were possessive, stubborn, and certain they were right. Together, they were a wall. And Serena Frostborne was going to hate it.

Aegon: This alliance is the smartest thing you’ve done in months.

Dex: Don’t ruin it.

Aegon: I am complimenting you.

Dex: You are complimenting me because you want to say something worse afterward.

Aegon: Accurate. You married a woman who will light you both on fire when she finds out what you’re doing. And I will watch.

Somewhere in the Draken Forces compound, Thor Crushturn was telling a weapons handler that he had been personally selected for a classified operation by the Commander. The handler did not believe him. Thor did not notice. The operation was going exactly as planned.