The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 70

Freya's POV

I slipped down the servants' staircase, hoping to complete my kitchen duties without encountering anyone. Especially him. My lips still tingled with the memory of last night's kiss, and I couldn't bear to face Thorne after what had happened between us.

I'd nearly made it to the kitchen when his voice froze me in place.

"Riley." The formal use of my last name sent a chill through me. "I believe you're forgetting something."

I turned slowly, maintaining a carefully blank expression. Thorne stood in the doorway to the dining room, his posture rigid and his face a mask of cold indifference. Gone was any trace of the man who had kissed me with such hunger last night.

"Alpha Grey," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "I was just heading to the kitchen."

"My arm," he said flatly. "The silver wound still requires your special herbal treatment, does it not? Or have you forgotten your duties as well as proper protocol?"

The coldness in his voice was unmistakable. This was the Thorne from before – the one who had sentenced me to exile, not the man whose lips had claimed mine with such intensity mere hours ago.

"Of course, Alpha. I apologize." I lowered my eyes, partly out of expected deference but mostly to hide the hurt that I knew would be visible there. "Would you like me to treat your arm now?"

"After breakfast." He gestured to the dining room. "Martha is indisposed this morning. You'll prepare my meal."

It wasn't a request. I nodded and followed him into the dining room, hyperaware of the distance he maintained between us.

In the kitchen, I gathered ingredients automatically, my hands remembering dishes I'd prepared years ago when I still lived as Riley, not as an exile. Without thinking, I began preparing eggs with herbs and spices, salmon with lemon, and dark berry compote – Thorne's favorite breakfast from our youth.

I was halfway through cooking when I realized what I was doing. My hands stilled as I stared down at the familiar dishes. How could I still remember his preferences after everything that had happened? After years of exile and months of serving in his house as little more than a glorified prisoner?

When I returned to the dining room with the first dish, Thorne's eyebrows rose slightly in recognition.

"You remember," he said, his voice giving away nothing.

"Muscle memory," I replied tersely.

As I served the soup course – a light consommé that preceded the main breakfast – a small rebellion flickered in me. I reached for the pepper mill and gave it several extra turns into his bowl, knowing he preferred only the slightest hint of spice in the morning.

Back in the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, trying to steady my breathing. This performance of normalcy after last night's kiss was almost too much to bear. Especially with his renewed coldness, a stark reminder that whatever moment we'd shared had been nothing but a mistake to him.

When I returned with the main course, I noticed Thorne had already finished his soup, emptying the bowl despite the extra pepper. His appetite seemed better than it had been yesterday – a sign the herbal treatment was working. The observation brought me a strange mix of professional satisfaction and personal disappointment.

"Will there be anything else, Alpha?" I asked when I'd finished serving.

"No." He didn't look up from his plate. "You may go. Return at noon for my treatment."

I turned to leave, grateful for the dismissal.

"Riley," he called after me. "Last night was a momentary lapse in judgment. It will not happen again."

I didn't turn around. "Of course, Alpha. I never expected otherwise."

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Third POV

In the east wing of Brooks Estate, Kaelin paced her bedroom, phone clutched in her hand. The morning sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, but did nothing to brighten her mood. Her father's call had left her seething with barely contained fury.

"What do you mean he still has her there?" she hissed into the phone when Edward Brooks called back.

"Kaelin, calm yourself," her father's voice was measured. "Alpha Thorne assured me that the Riley exile is there purely to assist with the investigation. He was quite clear that it doesn't affect your arrangement."

"And you believed him?" Her fingers tightened around the phone. "After she was seen coming from his private quarters?"

"He explained that. The girl was delivering herbal remedies for his wound, at Martha's request."

Kaelin's laugh was bitter. "And you accepted that excuse?"

"Kaelin," her father's tone sharpened. "Remember who you're speaking to, and about whom. Thorne Grey is our Alpha and your intended mate. His word is not to be questioned."

"Of course, Father." She modulated her voice, though rage still simmered beneath. "I'm simply concerned about his well-being. The moon phase syndrome has been particularly difficult this cycle."

"I mentioned that to him," Edward replied, his voice softening. "He seemed genuinely concerned."

"Did he promise to visit me soon?"

A slight hesitation. "He said he would when pack business allows."

"I see." The chill in her voice could have frozen flame.

"I must go – there's an important council meeting starting," Edward said. "Try to rest, daughter. Your condition won't improve with this agitation."

"Yes, Father. Thank you for speaking with him."

The moment the call ended, Kaelin hurled the phone across the room, watching with satisfaction as it struck the wall. She stalked to her vanity table and glared at her reflection. Beneath her perfect features, rage burned like molten silver.

Her gaze drifted to her phone on the floor, screen still illuminated with Lucy's message from last night: [The exile came out of Alpha's private bath looking flushed.]

Kaelin's mind raced back to the day she'd contacted Cole Raine, informing him of Freya's presence at Moon Howl, suggesting he frame her for the illegal trading. She'd intended for Freya to disappear permanently – dead or imprisoned for life in Silver Shackle. But Thorne had intervened, bringing the exile into his own home instead.

A cold smile played across Kaelin's lips as she made her decision. If her father couldn't solve this problem, she would handle it herself. Within minutes, she was dressed in an elegant blue suit that complemented her eyes, her car keys in hand.

"If you want something done right," she murmured to her reflection, "do it yourself."