The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 475

Chapter 475: Clear Me. No. Why. Sit.

DRAKENFELL — MASTER HEALER’S OFFICE

"I feel fine," Gav insisted. "Just a bit strange."

Rook: Mate.

"Sit down," Alaric said without looking up from his desk, where he was writing something in a leather journal with the unhurried penmanship of a man who prioritized documentation over his patient’s comfort and whose prioritization was a lifestyle choice.

"I don’t need to sit down. I need you to clear me so I can leave."

"And I need you to sit down so I can determine whether clearing you will kill you or merely inconvenience me with paperwork when you collapse in a corridor. Sit."

Gavriel sat. The sitting was reluctant. The chair was cold. The healer’s quarters smelled like dried herbs and judgment, and the judgment was Alaric’s primary diagnostic tool.

Alaric Kestrel turned from his desk and looked at Gavriel the way a man looks at a puzzle he didn’t ask for and doesn’t intend to enjoy. His eyes were clinical. His expression was the expression of a healer whose bedside manner had been recalled by the manufacturer at birth and never reissued.

"You were in a coma for days. You woke up without supervision. You left your room without clearance. You attended a training session instead of reporting to me, which is protocol you are aware of and chose to ignore." He tilted his head. "How am I doing so far?"

"Thorough."

"I am always thorough. It is the only quality that makes this job tolerable." Alaric pulled a chair opposite Gavriel and sat. "Symptoms."

"I told you. I feel fine. Just a bit strange."

"Define ’strange’ with more than two words or I will define it for you and you will like my definition less."

Gavriel exhaled. "Sore. Full-body soreness. Came on suddenly about an hour ago. And some... nerves. In my chest. Like anxiety but off."

"Off how?"

"Like it’s coming from somewhere else."

Rook: Mate.

Alaric’s eyes narrowed by a fraction.

"Different is one word for it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your energy signature is different."

"Different how?"

Alaric leaned back. Crossed one leg over the other. Steepled his fingers. He clearly was deciding how much of the interesting to share and how much to keep for his own intellectual entertainment.

"When you went into the coma, your energy signature was Gavriel Sterling. Standard Gamma. Unremarkable." He paused. "The signature I am reading now is Gavriel Sterling plus something else. The ’something else’ is the part I am going to need more than two sentences to explain, and you are going to need more than zero patience to hear."

"Just clear me and we can both go on our merry way," Gavriel sighed.

Alaric stared at him. The stare was the stare of a man who had been told to go on his merry way and whose way had never once in his entire career been merry and whose face was communicating that the suggestion was personally offensive.

"I don’t do merry, Sterling. Merry is village idiots, and I am neither, though some days this job makes a compelling case for the latter."

"Alaric."

"Gavriel."

"Clear me."

"No."

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