Page 21 of Sold Rejected Mate
The thought of it makes me laugh, which is painful enough that a few tears leak from my eyes.
“Oh, shit,” Phina says, stepping into the room, her eyes widening. “Valerie?”
It should be unsettling that she remembers me so easily, but for some reason, it just fills my chest with warmth, like it’s the first real breath of air I’ve taken since getting here.
And I realize that not being known—Lachlan calling meGreen, as endearing as it is—has started to wear on me. Like I’ve started to become an actual Jane Doe, losing my own identity.
“Valerie,” Phina repeats, stepping into the room, her eyes wide. “What—what happened to your scent?”
My brow wrinkles. What the hell is she talking about?
She sniffs the air, looking troubled and confused, shaking her head in astonishment. “It’s like I can’t smell you at all. I had no idea it was you in here. That’s so weird.”
I don’t know what to tell her—I had no idea that there was something wrong with my scent. But there’s no time for me to figure out a way to ask her because Phina turns, glancing at someone behind her.
A small person—agirl—with Phina’s blond hair and deep, ocean-blue eyes.
I would recognize those eyes anywhere—they’re Sorel, through and through. When I look at Phina, surely with an expression of shock on my face, she bites her lip and stifles a laugh like we’re girls again.
“Yeah,” she whispers, “I know. Guess we have a lot to talk about. This is my daughter, Nora. Eleanora.”
“Gods, Mom,” the girl mutters, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “You don’t have to tell her my full government name.”
“She’ll be a tween soon,” Phina mutters, shaking her head, “Apparently, she’s getting the attitude already.”
Her daughter laughs, and Phina pulls the armchair over to the side of the bed to sit down beside me. Her eyes are clear and bright, that familiar amber hue I remember from countless meetings together, twisting and shaping magic in the palms of our hands.
Whatever life she’s managed for herself after that day, when everything went wrong on the ridge, it’s a hell of a lot better than mine. Her blond hair is longer now, with loose curls pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a simple dress that fits her well. She used to be skinny—so, so skinny, likely because her fucking parents never made sure she had enough to eat—but now she’s filled out.
Maybe from having a baby. Maybe from actually getting to eat three meals a day.
Phina looks at me carefully, likely taking in the expression on my face. Maybe she can tell how hard I’m working to minimize the pain, keep her from realizing how bad it is.
Then, she pulls the covers back without preamble, and her daughter gasps at the colors spanning up and down my leg.
“Lachlan told me about the injuries,” Phina says, her eyes darting to mine. “But he didn’t tell me it was this bad. What happened?”
I open my mouth to speak, but, like always, nothing comes out but a rasp. Phina’s daughter moves, handing me the glass of water on the nightstand, and I give her a quick, tight-lipped smile in the hope it will communicate my gratitude.
“You can’t talk?” Phina asks, raising her eyebrows.
I finish the water, wincing as I lean over to set it on the nightstand, and return my gaze to her, shaking my head.
Then, she does something I absolutely do not expect. She steps forward, gently prodding her fingers along my jaw, my throat, until she settles her hands and closes her eyes.
I feel her magic before I realize what she’s doing, and by the time I know what’s going on, the pain in my throat is retreating, the sandpaper and glass feeling completely gone. When I swallow, it nearly brings tears of relief to my eyes. I’ve been in pain for so long, I forgot what it was like to perform a bodily function without wincing, preparing for the agony.
“Thank you,” I mutter, bringing my hand to my throat, then my eyes fly up to hers, widening. I can speak again.
“Of course,” she says, taking a step back and sitting down in the armchair. She pulls Nora to her, whispers something in her ear, and the girl walks out of the room.
Phina returns her attention to me. “You know I have to tell Xeran who you are.”
I bite my tongue. Of course she would share that with her mate—the alpha supreme. But it’s not going to win me any points in theplease don’t execute me, I didn’t start the fire on purposegame.
Bitterness creeps into the back of my throat, and I look up at Phina, not able to stop the twist of jealousy that courses through me. She was there that day, too. She played a hand in everything that happened in the aftermath. And yet, here she is, luna of the pack—not on her knees, groveling for her life. Everything worked out just fine for her.
“I’m surprised you’re being so bold with the magic,” I say, gesturing toward her hand, “considering who your new mate is. Would he be happy about you doing this?”
