Page 63 of The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate
I change out of my work clothes into soft, gray leggings and an oversized sweater, gather my hair into a messier knot, and pad downstairs in slipper socks to raid the kitchen. Drinking some water should help. My throat has been raw for days, and I keep forgetting to stay hydrated.
The estate is quiet at this hour. Most of the household has gone to bed, and the corridor lights are low. My feet make no sound on the runner.
I am reaching for the door to the butler’s pantry when Lydia opens it from the other side.
We both stop. For one awkward beat, we just look at each other.
Her hair is down around her shoulders in a way I almost never see it. She’s holding a glass of milk, and she looks like any other woman in any other house, caught between tasks. The gold of her informal engagement band glints at me from her left hand. I don’t look at it.
“Sienna.”
“Lydia.” I gesture vaguely past her. “Just getting a glass of water.”
“Of course.”
She moves aside so I can enter the pantry. She does not leave. I fill a glass from the filtered tap and pretend to concentrate on it, because my wolf, who has been silent for days, has stirred just enough to register that this woman is in my space, and I am not quite ready for the conversation that is clearly about to happen.
“How are you doing?” Lydia asks. Her voice is gentle.
I almost drop the glass.
“Sorry?” I turn toward her slowly, the filled glass in my hand.
“I was just wondering.” Her smile is warm. Sympathetic. Nothing in it that should not be there. “Your friend left today. I thought it might be a little harder around here without him. It must have been nice having someone from home here with you.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Yes. It was.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him properly,” she says, leaning a hip against the counter. “I heard he was very nice.”
“He is.” I take a sip of my water to buy time. “He’s a good friend. A colleague from the pack house. We work in the same building, you know. Seeing a familiar face was…It meant a lot.”
“I’m sure.”
A long pause.
“I wish I’d had more time to show him around,” I hear myself say. Filling silence has become a reflex in this house. “Silvercrest is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes crinkle. “You know, if you wanted to show him something really beautiful next time, there’s a lovely lake quite deep in the forest. Most people don’t know about it. It’s not on any map.”
“A lake? I saw one, but it was pretty small and seemed manmade.”
“No, not that one. This is a cove, really. Spring-fed. Birches all the way around. It’s pretty any time, but”—she pauses, and an almost mischievous look flickers across her face—“at midnight, on a clear night, the algae along the bottom catches the moonlight, and the whole basin glows. Pale blue-green. Like something out of a storybook.”
I find myself interested despite every instinct I have about this woman. “That’s real?”
“It’s real. Lucas and I used to sneak out there when we were kids. I still go there sometimes.”
When they were kids. Another reminder that the history Lydia shares with my fated mate is deeper than anything he and I had.
“I see.”
“It’s a pity your friend left,” she says lightly. “The two of you could have gone tonight. There’s going to be a clear sky. No telling when the next clear night will be. The weather’s been a little cloudy lately.”
“Mm.” I watch the water in my glass as I swirl it. “Well, too late now.”
“I could take you.”
My eyes flick up. Lydia is watching me, perfectly composed, perfectly kind.
