Alpha's STOLEN Mate Chapter 114

Frost

I had no idea how long I'd been in Lysandra's cave. Days? Weeks? Time had lost all meaning in this place where sunlight filtered through crystal formations and bioluminescent moss marked the passage of hours.

When I first woke up after the curse broke, I'd been frantic. Desperate. Every fiber of my being screamed to find Kaius and Elowen, to make sure they were safe, to apologize for attacking her, to explain what had happened—

But Lysandra had other ideas.

She'd started feeding me concoctions that tasted like earth and starlight and things I couldn't begin to identify. Strange brews that made my tongue tingle and my thoughts slow. And gradually—so gradually I barely noticed—the panic subsided.

The constant anxiety that had been my companion for months just... faded.

I stopped waking up in cold sweats, terrified that I was running out of time. Stopped obsessing over every little twinge in my body, wondering if this was the day my life force finally gave out. The crushing weight of emotions I'd been carrying—love, guilt, fear, longing—all of it seemed to drift away like morning mist.

Now I felt... peaceful.

It was strange. Unsettling, even. But I couldn't deny that for the first time in years, I felt like I could actually breathe.

My days had fallen into a simple rhythm. Wake at dawn, venture outside to gather magical herbs from the hidden gardens Lysandra maintained throughout the forest. Return to the cave, carefully transplant and cultivate the specimens. Learn which plants needed moonlight, which thrived in shadow, which required songs sung in ancient languages I was slowly learning to pronounce.

It was honest work. Meditative. The kind of life I'd fantasized about as a child but never thought I'd have.

I'd just finished transplanting a delicate silver-leafed sapling when Lysandra's voice drifted over from her workbench.

"Very good, Frost." She didn't look up from the mortar where she was grinding something that glowed faintly purple. "Your cultivation technique is improving. You have gentle hands. The plants respond well to you."

I brushed dirt from my palms, smiling slightly. "Well, I owe you my life. The least I can do is help maintain your garden until I've repaid that debt." I paused, then added more seriously, "I'm not going to just run off, you know. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Lysandra's laugh was dry, knowing. "Is that so? You're really planning to leave this place?" She finally looked up, her pale eyes assessing. "Because from where I'm standing, you seem more and more comfortable with this quiet life every day."

I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it again. She wasn't wrong.

"And your complexion," she continued, returning to her grinding. "It's improving. Color returning to your cheeks. Your eyes are clearer." Her tone remained casual, but the observation felt pointed. "Before, even when you smiled, there was this... restlessness underneath. This constant tension. Like you were always bracing for the next blow."

I found myself nodding slowly. "Well... you caught me." A small laugh escaped. "Honestly? This kind of life—this isolated, simple existence—it's something I dreamed about as a kid."

The memory rose unbidden. I moved to sit on one of the smooth stone benches, tilting my head back to look at the opening in the cave ceiling. Moonlight poured through, silvery and pure, bathing everything in ethereal light.

"When I was young," I said quietly, "when my mother and sister and I were still slaves... I used to fantasize about running away. Finding some remote place where no one knew us, where no one could hurt us anymore." I swallowed hard. "It didn't matter if it was barren. Didn't matter if it was the middle of nowhere. As long as we could be free. As long as we didn't have to be anyone's property anymore."

I wiped sweat from my brow, still staring at that circle of moonlight. "The moon looks beautiful tonight. I never really took the time to appreciate it before. Always too busy, too stressed, too—"

But as I gazed at that pale light, my thoughts inevitably drifted. Silver. Luminous. Pure.

*Just like Elowen's hair.*

*I wonder how she's doing. If she's safe. If she thinks about—*

"Even though you've found peace here," Lysandra's voice cut through my thoughts, "I'd bet anything that a single whisper of Elowen's name, one hint that she's in trouble, and you'd fall apart again."

Her back was still turned, but I knew she was right. She always was.

I didn't respond. Didn't confirm or deny. But it was true.

Every night after finishing my work, I'd find myself looking at the moon. And every night, I'd think of her. The way her silver hair caught the light. The fierce determination in her eyes. The strength in her voice when she commanded attention.

But something had shifted in how I thought about her.

Before, I'd always kept her at a distance in my mind. Placed her on a pedestal. *My Queen. Kaius's mate. Someone beyond my reach, someone I could admire from afar but never truly have.*

Now? Now when I thought of her, it felt... different. More intimate. More honest.

I wasn't thinking of her as some distant, untouchable figure. I was thinking of *Elowen*. The woman. The person I loved—truly, deeply, hopelessly loved.

Not as my Queen. As the woman who'd somehow claimed my entire heart without even trying.

"The calming draughts I've been giving you," Lysandra said, her tone almost conversational, "they work wonders on anxiety, on physical stress. But they can't solve your love problems, can they?" She paused in her work. "If I really wanted you to forget about the outside world completely, I'd need to use memory-altering potions. Wipe your mind clean of her."

I found myself smiling despite the grim topic. "Well, if you were going to do that, you would've done it already."

"Don't mistake my restraint for kindness," she shot back. "If you come to me later, begging me to erase your memories because the pain is too much... I might just turn you away at the door."

"I wouldn't ask—"

"Your trouble is here," Lysandra interrupted suddenly. She set down her mortar and turned to face me fully. "Frost. You have a visitor."

*What?*

Before I could process that, a scent hit me. Familiar. Achingly familiar.

*Fuck. No. Not—*

Scarlett.

My former mate. The bond I'd severed. The woman whose heart I'd broken because I couldn't—because I didn't—

*How did she find me here?*

Lysandra vanished in that way she had, dissolving into shadows like she'd never been there at all. And suddenly Scarlett was standing in the entrance of the cave, moonlight silhouetting her figure.

The moment her eyes found me, I saw it—the way her entire body relaxed. The tension bleeding out of her shoulders. Her hand went to her chest, pressing against her heart like she needed to physically hold herself together.

"Frost," she breathed. Then she was moving, rushing forward, and I could see her fighting to contain the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "You're okay. Thank God, you're okay."

She stopped a few feet away, her hands twitching like she wanted to reach for me but didn't dare. "I can smell it—your scent, it's coming back. You're healing."

My heart, which had been so calm just moments ago, suddenly felt like it was trying to beat out of my chest.

I gestured awkwardly to the other stone bench. "Scarlett. Please, sit down."

She did, perching on the edge like a nervous bird ready to take flight at any moment.

I opened my mouth to ask why she'd come, but she beat me to it.

"I'm sorry for just—for showing up like this." Her cheeks were flushing, that telltale sign she got when she was flustered. "I heard you were injured. That you were... that it was serious." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not meeting my eyes. "And Elowen and Evelyn have been gone for a few days. The pack's been quiet. I've been—I mean, I had some time. And I just—"

She was rambling now, words tumbling over each other.

"I was worried. Not worried, exactly. Just... curious? No, that's not right either." Her face was getting redder. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. Just to see for myself. Just to confirm that you were—that you were recovering."

*God, she's trying so hard to seem casual. To pretend this doesn't mean anything to her.*

I could feel my own calm shattering, sharp edges of guilt and regret cutting through the peace I'd built.

"Scarlett," I said gently, "I'm fine. Truly. My scent is returning. My life force is stabilizing. I'm not dying anymore."

The joy that lit up her face was like a knife to my chest. "God, that's—that's wonderful. That's such good news."

She stood abruptly. "Well. I've seen you. I've confirmed you're okay. So I should—I'll just—I should go."

And just like that, she was moving toward the exit, and I felt something crack inside me.

*She came all this way. Found this hidden cave. Risked Lysandra's wrath. Just to see me for thirty seconds and leave.*

"Scarlett, wait!"

She spun around immediately, and the hope in her eyes—*God*, the raw, desperate hope—nearly broke me.

"Yeah?" Her voice was small. Tentative.