The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 45

Thorne's POV

I cradled Freya's unconscious body against my chest as I strode through the corridors of Grey Estate. Her weight alarmed me—far too light for a wolf of her bloodline. The scent of garden soil and orchids clung to her skin, but underneath was the sharp tang of exhaustion and something worse—her unique sweetness fading, replaced by the sour smell of a wolf in distress. My wolf growled inside me, unexpectedly protective.

Edith appeared at the top of the grand staircase, her eyes widening when she saw who I was carrying.

"Alpha Thorne! What happened to—"

"Call Dr. Maloy. Now." My voice cut through her question, low and dangerous. "Tell him it's an emergency."

Edith hesitated, her gaze lingering on Freya's pale face. "Should I prepare one of the guest rooms for—"

"My room," I interrupted, moving past her with long strides. "And be quick about it."

I shouldered open the double doors to my private suite and carried Freya to my bed. As I laid her down on the midnight blue covers, I found myself frozen for a moment. Her pale skin against my bedding stirred something primal in me. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her pulse rapid but weak when I pressed my fingers against her wrist.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Maloy arrived. His face remained impassive as he examined Freya thoroughly.

"She's suffering from moon heat," he announced finally, straightening from his bent position. "Essentially the wolf equivalent of severe heatstroke, combined with exhaustion and malnutrition."

I paced beside the bed, my wolf restless beneath my skin. "Will she recover?"

"She should, with proper care and rest." Dr. Maloy's eyes met mine, his expression unusually grave. "But I must say, Alpha, her condition is worse than when I treated her internal injuries at the Grand Lunar. The blood work shows severe nutritional deficiencies that have been developing for weeks."

I stopped pacing, fixing him with a hard stare. "Explain." My voice came out as a near growl.

"Simply put, she's been starved, Alpha. Not just recently—this has been ongoing." He gestured to Freya's thin wrists. "And the moon-silver residue from her exile mark is still affecting her system, weakening her ability to shift and heal naturally."

"I've left medication and a treatment plan," Dr. Maloy continued, placing a folder on the nightstand. "She needs complete rest for at least three days, followed by a careful nutritional program to rebuild her strength."

I nodded, dismissing him with a gesture. As the door closed behind the doctor, I moved to the window, staring out at the garden where Freya had collapsed. Something cold and heavy settled in my chest. I tried to name it as anything but guilt. Alpha judges don't feel guilt for administering justice.

Yet the memory of her collapsing in the garden, the way her body had felt so fragile in my arms, the instinctive way my arms had tightened around her...

"Send Edith up," I ordered through the intercom, my voice harsher than intended.

---

Minutes later, Edith entered, her posture stiff as she noticed Freya still lying in my bed.

"You wanted to see me, Alpha?"

I turned from the window, fixing her with a cold stare. "Explain to me why a member of my household staff is suffering from malnutrition." Each word came out clipped, controlled, masking the rage building inside me.

Edith's gaze flickered to Freya, then back to me. "I... I assumed you wished her to be... disciplined, Alpha. Given her history with Miss Kaelin..."

"Did I ever give such an order?" My voice dropped dangerously low.

"No, Alpha, but I thought—"

"That's precisely the problem," I interrupted, stepping closer to her. My Alpha presence filled the room, pressing down on her. "You thought you understood my intentions rather than following my explicit instructions." I moved closer still, watching her shrink back. "I ordered that she be treated as any other Beta servant. No better, no worse."

Edith's shoulders hunched under the weight of my displeasure. "I apologize, Alpha. I misunderstood."

"Clearly." I glanced at Freya's still form, noting how her eyelids fluttered in unconsciousness. "You're docked three full moons' wages for this failure, Edith. And let me be perfectly clear: Freya Riley is to be treated exactly like any other member of this household's staff. She is to receive the same food, the same breaks, the same sleeping hours. She is not to be given special treatment—either preferential or punitive. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Alpha." Edith's voice was barely audible.

"Furthermore," I added, stepping even closer until she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, "it is not your place to interpret my intentions or to enact what you believe I might want. Your job is to carry out my orders exactly as they are given. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Of course, Alpha. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." I turned away from her, dismissal clear in my posture. "Now go."

After Edith left, I returned to the bedside, studying Freya's face in the fading afternoon light. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache forming behind my eyes. My wolf was agitated, prowling beneath my skin. I felt the telltale heat flash as my eyes shifted to their golden wolf state.

I looked down at Freya again, taking in the hollows of her cheeks, the shadows beneath her eyes. Her lips were dry but still full, slightly parted as she breathed. I remembered the first time I'd seen her at Moon Howl—an exile returned to my territory. I'd wanted her gone, away from my city, away from the memories her scent evoked. Away from the visceral reaction she still caused in me.

My gaze traveled to the crescent-shaped birthmark on her neck, the pale mark standing out against her skin. I reached out, my fingers hovering for a moment before touching the mark. The contact sent a jolt through me. Her skin was warm, her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertip. Even now, weakened as she was, I could sense the wolf within her—diminished but unbroken.

I'd brought her to Grey Estate to punish her, I admitted to myself. To humble her. I'd told myself I was being merciful by offering her work instead of sending her back to Silver Shackle. But the truth was more complex. I couldn't bear the thought of her alone and vulnerable in the Shadowlands, where another injury might kill her before she could heal.

Yet she hadn't shown the gratitude I'd expected. Hadn't cowered or thanked me for my "generosity." Instead, she'd maintained that quiet defiance, that unwavering insistence on her innocence. It infuriated me. It fascinated me.

I laughed softly, the sound bitter even to my own ears. My eyes fixed on her lips, parted slightly in unconsciousness. I found myself remembering our accidental kiss in the presidential suite—the softness of her mouth, the startled look in her eyes, the way her scent had changed in that instant to something sweeter, warmer. The way my body had responded before my mind could intervene.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned down and pressed my lips gently against hers. The contact was electric, sending heat through my veins even in this chaste touch. Her lips were soft beneath mine, and for a moment I imagined I felt her respond. My hand moved to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking her skin as I deepened the kiss slightly.

With an effort that physically hurt, I pulled back, my breathing uneven. What was I doing? This was Freya Riley—the woman who had attacked my future mate, the exile I'd sentenced myself. The woman who still haunted my dreams despite everything.

I straightened up and backed away from the bed, my wolf snarling in protest at the distance.