The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 506

Chapter 506: We’ll Make Fun Of This Later

She moved towards them, blade sliding free with a soft metallic sound. Serena wasn’t carrying a blade. That was new.

Her scent hit him a heartbeat late, and it wasn’t hers. Close. Almost perfect. But wrong, like a familiar melody played half a note off.

Then he noticed her features were slightly off too. Just slightly misaligned. Eyes a fraction too wide. The distance between her pupils was wrong by millimeters. The jawline was sharper than it should have been. The hair was white but the white was flat, missing the gold undertone that sunlight pulled out of the real thing.

She smiled. The smile was too wide.

That wasn’t Serena.

Xeon: What gave it away? The murder in her eyes or the blade?

"Again," Hyran sighed.

Gold magic supernovaed from his palms, hitting the Serena copy in a brutal strike.

The figure was hurled back and twisted in midair. Stone and flesh rippled. The shape collapsed inward and reformed as Hyran.

Same height. Same face. Same stance. Same expression of intellectual superiority, replicated with unsettling accuracy, the corridor having apparently studied Hyran long enough to capture the specific angle of his chin when he was about to say something condescending.

Another appeared beside it.

Then another.

Three Hyrans stood in the corridor. Three identical expressions of displeasure. Three identical sets of arms crossed. Three identical jaws set at the exact same angle. The corridor had produced a visual that was either a tactical maneuver or a personal insult, and the line between the two was nonexistent.

"THREE," Aeron snapped. "One of him is enough. Three is a punishment."

"He should find it flattering," Maelor said, studying the copies with the clinical detachment of a mage whose professional curiosity was overriding his survival instincts. "The corridor chose him three times. It could have chosen anyone. It chose the easiest, most generic template in the room. That is a compliment for being average."

"That is a THREAT, Maelor. Those things have BLADES."

"The blades are a separate issue. Aesthetically, the corridor made a defensible choice."

"I am standing RIGHT HERE," Hyran snapped, looking at his own face three times over with the specific revulsion of a man watching cheap copies of himself prepare for violence. "And those look NOTHING like me. The posture is wrong. The jaw angle is wrong. The third one is holding the blade like a kitchen utensil."

"Hyran is critiquing the combat stance of his own doppelgangers," Aeron observed. "This is the most Hyran thing that has ever happened."

"If this corridor is going to impersonate me, it should do so with ACCURACY. I have STANDARDS. Those standards extend to my duplicates. Is that unreasonable?"

"Completely," Maelor and Aeron said at the same time.

Across the corridor, Fin’s blood ran cold. A figure stepped out of the wall.

Him.

Same build. Same face. Same eyes. Same jaw. Same military posture.

It walked a slow circle, stopping to look at them. At itself. Then it lifted a hand.

And waved.

Casual. Almost friendly. The wave was the worst part.

"What the..."

Fin couldn’t move. His body had locked. Every instinct, every trained reflex, every muscle that had spent a lifetime learning to react was frozen on the sight of his own face smiling at him with an expression he had never worn and whose never-wearing was the proof that this thing was wrong and the wrong was deeper than the surface.

Xeon: Kill it. Kill it now.

✦✦✦

TWO LEVELS LOWER

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify