The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 468

Chapter 468: Dex Pouted Like A Damn Labrador

"That is enough for today."

Tiberon’s voice carried across the field with the finality of a man closing a book. His arms were clasped behind his back. His posture was unchanged from the first minute of the session. Thirty minutes of cat-slapping, seven takedowns, one gladiator speech, and a twelve-second spite-shift had produced zero visible wear on the King of Drakenfell’s composure, which was either a testament to his discipline or evidence that he had stopped being surprised by anything decades ago.

"SHIFT, Serena."

White light. Six seconds. The last de-shift of the session hit her body like a closing tab on a bar bill that had been accumulating for an hour. Serena landed on her hands and knees, panting, nose bleeding again, every muscle filing its resignation simultaneously.

She stayed down for four seconds this time. Then stood. Her hands found her knees and she bent forward, breathing in ragged pulls, her hair hanging around her face in sweat-damp curtains.

The crowd deflated.

The deflation was subtle, collective, and unmistakable. Two hundred soldiers who had been watching the most entertaining training session in Drakenfell’s military history realized the entertainment was over and the realization produced the specific energy of an audience whose show had been cancelled mid-season.

"Same time tomorrow?" a soldier in the back row muttered to the man beside him.

"I’m bringing the whole unit."

"Bring chairs."

"Bring ale."

"Somebody should sell tickets to this shit."

Halvek shot a look toward the back rows. The look was thermal. The muttering stopped. The soldiers who had been muttering developed a sudden, intense fascination with their own boots.

Serena was still on the field, hands on knees, panting, bleeding, unaware that she had just become the most popular training act in Drakenfell and that tomorrow’s attendance was going to double.

Dexmon moved.

He cleared the distance from the sideline to center field in three strides, Alpha speed carrying him across the dirt before the decision to move had fully formed in his conscious mind. His hands were already reaching for her, the instinct to lift her, to carry her, to put her body against his body and remove her from the field and the pain and the visibility of two hundred soldiers who had been watching his mate bleed from the nose for thirty minutes while he stood on a sideline doing nothing.

Serena stiffened.

She took one step back. Small. Deliberate. Her eyes flicked sideways to the crowd, then back to Dex, and the flick was the message and the message was clear: the Draken Forces are watching and you are the Crown Prince and I am the Crown Princess and we are on a military training field and you are absolutely, categorically, under no circumstances picking me up right now.

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