Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 51

51: Chapter 51 51: Chapter 51 Seraphina’s POV
The moment I stepped through the doors of the Nightshadow Pack training facility, a thunderous roar of applause erupted from every corner of the warehouse space.

My face immediately burned with embarrassment as I took in the sight before me-dozens of warriors, medics, and support staff had gathered, their faces beaming with genuine warmth and respect that I’d never experienced in my life.

“There she is!” Ben Thompson’s voice boomed above the noise, his broad grin splitting his scarred face as he pushed through the crowd toward me.

“The miracle worker herself!”
I tried to shrink back against Damien’s solid presence behind me, but his hand settled firmly on the small of my back, offering both support and gentle encouragement.

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the continued applause.

“I was just doing what anyone would do-”
“Like hell you were,” Marcus interrupted gruffly, though his usual scowl had been replaced by something that almost resembled a smile.

“What you did yesterday…

I’ve been fighting for years, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ben stepped forward, his eyes bright with emotion.

“You saved my life, Seraphina.

These hands,” he gestured toward my still-tingling palms, “brought me back from the edge of death.

How do you thank someone for something like that?”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I said quickly, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gratitude.

“Really, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Okay?” Lucas’s familiar voice cut through the crowd as he made his way toward us, moving with the fluid grace of someone who hadn’t nearly bled to death less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Ben, she didn’t just make us okay-she made us better than new.

Look at this.”
He rolled up his sleeve to reveal his left arm, the one that had been shattered beyond repair during the rogue attack.

The skin was perfect, unmarked by so much as a scratch, but the muscle definition seemed enhanced, more pronounced than I remembered.

“The healing didn’t just fix the damage,” Lucas continued, flexing his fingers with obvious wonder.

“It strengthened everything.

I feel like I could bench press a truck.”
Riley appeared at Lucas’s elbow, her auburn hair pulled back in its usual practical ponytail, but her cheeks were flushed with something that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

She’d barely looked away from Lucas since he’d started speaking, her eyes tracking his every movement with an intensity that made my inner matchmaker sit up and take notice.

I watched Riley’s gaze drift back to Lucas’s arm, her professional interest clearly battling with something much more personal.

When Lucas caught her staring and flashed one of his devastating smiles, the flush on her cheeks deepened to crimson.

“Well, well,” I said quietly, pitched just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Riley’s mouth dropped open in shock, while Lucas’s grin widened to almost dangerous proportions.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Riley said primly, though she couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

“I’m simply conducting a thorough medical assessment of the healing results.”
“Very thorough,” Lucas agreed solemnly, though his eyes were dancing with mischief.

“Oh my God,” Riley breathed, her face now approximately the color of a ripe tomato.

“You’re both terrible.”
The crowd around us had begun to disperse, warriors returning to their training routines but with an energy and enthusiasm that seemed elevated from yesterday.

Several of them called out friendly greetings as they passed, their earlier skepticism about having an omega in their facility completely evaporated.

As the afternoon progressed, I found myself working alongside Riley to organize medical supplies while keeping one eye on Lucas’s training session.

The beta was definitely showering off for Riley’s benefit, his movements more elaborate and athletic than strictly necessary for the basic sparring exercises he was supposed to be conducting.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Riley muttered, though her eyes never left his form as he executed a particularly impressive spinning kick that sent his sparring partner stumbling backward.

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” I replied, noting the way Riley’s hands had gone still on the gauze she’d been rolling.

“When was the last time you actually paid attention to inventory instead of staring at his abs?”
“I am not staring at his abs,” Riley protested unconvincingly.

“Right.

And I’m the Queen of England.”
Riley shot me a glare that could have melted steel.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?

Some other people’s love lives to meddle in?”
“Nope,” I said cheerfully, settling more comfortably into my chair.

“This is much more entertaining than filing reports.”
Lucas chose that moment to remove his training shirt, ostensibly to wipe sweat from his face but more likely to give Riley a clear view of the enhanced physique my healing had apparently gifted him.

The move had the desired effect-Riley made a small, involuntary sound that was part gasp and part whimper.

“Sweet Moon Goddess,” she breathed, her hands going still on the medical supplies.

“That should be illegal.”
“Why don’t you go tell him that?” I suggested innocently.

“I absolutely cannot and will not-”
“Riley,” Lucas’s voice called out across the training floor, warm with genuine affection.

“Could you check this wrap on my wrist?

I think I might have pulled something during that last combination.”
I watched with growing amusement as Riley approached Lucas, her professional demeanor warring with obvious attraction.

The chemistry between them was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

“Let me see,” Riley said softly, taking Lucas’s offered hand in both of hers.

Her touch was gentle but thorough as she examined his wrist, her fingers tracing along the tendons with professional skill.

“Does this hurt?” she asked, applying gentle pressure to a specific point.

“A little,” Lucas said, though his voice had grown rough in a way that suggested his discomfort wasn’t entirely physical.

“Maybe you should…

check more thoroughly.”
Their faces were inches apart now, Riley’s examination becoming increasingly unnecessary as she lingered over each movement, each test of flexibility and range of motion.

The air around them practically sparkled with sexual tension.

“You two are painful to watch,” Ben Thompson called out from across the training floor, his voice carrying enough amusement to make several other warriors look up from their own exercises.

“Just kiss her already, Lucas, before the rest of us die from secondhand embarrassment.”