Page 56 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

It hits me like a freight train at full speed—Sean’s voice—and it sends me snapping back to reality like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight and released. With it comes a flood of tears and a wretched sob pouring out of my lungs.

“Emily!” Within seconds, warm, protective arms are around me, forcing me to realize that this is real, that Sean is real.

He’s alive, and he’s whispering soothing words in my ear when I just thought I lost him forever. I just saw him die.

“Sean? Is it really you?” My breath comes in hot pants as I lift my face to meet his eyes. His blue orbs are the warmest they’ve ever been, the softest I’ve ever seen them, and something inside me snaps.

The last wall I’d built in an attempt to keep him out comes crumbling down like a bomb had been detonated. I grab his face like it’s a lifeline, and crush my lips to his. Just to feel him. Just to know he’s real. Just to know he’s still alive.

Sean kisses me back, but without pressure, his hands sliding into my hair to cup the back of my head with tenderness. He’s just there, present, a grounding force that brings me out of my grief and into the warmth of his existence.

But I can’t stop shaking. I can’t unsee what I saw, and it leaves me trembling uncontrollably. My only consolation is that Sean is still alive, still breathing, still able to wrap his warm arms around me. He lifts me off the chair and into his arms, cradling me to his chest as he carries me back home.

“You’re okay, Emily. You’re right here, with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, soaking up his scent as I curl fists into his shirt, not wanting to ever let go. How can I tell him that I’m not okay after seeing what I saw? How do I tell him that I’m not worried about myself, but afraid of him dying?

I don’t have the answers right now, and I don’t even have the energy to tell him what I saw in that vision. All I want to do is curl up like an infant in his protective arms and never leave his house or his bed. Ever.

Chapter 21 - Sean

“The last time Delilah did this, she was infected by dark magic…” Hunter comments dryly as we both stand on the porch, watching the witches standing around a fire in the backyard, Emily and Delilah facing each other in some ritual that allows her to see into Emily’s mind. The witches are calling it “diagnostics.”

That word alone sets my teeth on edge.

There’s nothing clinical about what’s happening. Nothing detached. This isn’t observation; it’s interrogation. Of Emily’s magic. Of the bond. Of her mind.

She stands barefoot in the center of the circle, shoulders squared, chin lifted like she’s bracing for a blow. Golden sigils glow faintly beneath her feet, etched into the earth in layered patterns; old witchcraft, the kind that predates written language. The symbols pulse slowly, unevenly, as if they’re breathing.

Or waiting.

Emily gets to her knees, and Delilah kneels before her, palms hovering inches from her temples. Gwen and Arianna complete the circle, their murmured chants threading through the air like a low, steady current. Donna isn’t here—too close to her due date, too vulnerable—but I can feel her worry from miles away, like her spirit is with her sisters, whispering words of encouragement, words of comfort between them.

I stand at the edge of the clearing with Hunter, arms crossed tightly across my chest, every muscle coiled and waiting, with bated breath, for something to go wrong. I’ve been feeling that way ever since the Harrower started attacking Emily. Just waiting for something to demand my action. My wolf prowls beneath my skin, restless and alert, hackles raised as if we’re surrounded by enemies instead of allies.

Anything is possible. I couldn’t even get some alone time with Emily without the Harrower attacking her psyche in the diner. Emily still won’t speak about what she saw in that vision, but I witnessed the terror in her eyes, like she saw a ghost.

The mate bond hums now, and my palms tingle as if Emily is close enough to touch me. The awareness vibrates through my chest like a warning siren, prompting me to unfold my arms and clench fists at my sides. Through my periphery, I notice how tense Hunter is.

“Emily isn’t infected with dark magic…” I mutter under my breath like a reassurance to him, but also a reminder to myself. It’s not as if anything is wrong with Emily. The witches are just running diagnostics to check if they can block out the Harrower from Emily’s mind.

Emily inhales sharply as Delilah finally makes contact, her palms pressed to Emily’s temples. Golden light flares beneath Delilah’s hands, but not violently, not uncontrolled, but rather searching. It spills outward in tendrils, curling through the air like it’s tasting everything around her.

Including me.

My wolf surges forward instinctively, answering the call before my mind can stop it. I take a step closer, and the light around Emily’s temples reacts instantly, tightening, intensifying, locking onto me with frightening precision.

“Sean…” Delilah warns without turning. “Do not move.”

I stop, fists clenching so hard my knuckles ache, my palms stinging with my nails digging trenches into them. The light sharpens anyway, drawn toward me like gravity has shifted.

Emily gasps, and her back arches, fingers curling at her sides as her magic spikes at her palms. Her power doesn’t explode, but it binds, and I feel it inside my gut, wrapping inward.

Fusing…

I feel it through the bond like pressure behind my eyes.

“Something’s wrong,” I growl, face contorting with strain as if my insides are going to explode.