The Alpha’s Rejected Mate

7

ELEANOR

After lying in bed for a little longer, my stomach growled loudly enough to remind me that I hadn't eaten since dinner the previous night. I pressed a hand against it and sighed.

Food. That was what I needed.

I dragged myself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. After taking a warm shower, I felt considerably better. I changed into a yellow tank top and a pair of short black denim shorts, then slipped into my sneakers. I gathered my hair into a rough low bun, leaving a few loose strands around my face.

Satisfied, I left my room and stepped into the corridor, I suddenly remembered that I had absolutely no idea where anything was in this house.

I glanced in both directions, trying to recall the route we had taken when Ethan showed me to my room the previous evening. The estate had seemed intimidating in the darkness, and I hadn't paid much attention to the surroundings. All I had wanted was to get away from Caspian and his sister.

Now I wished I had been more observant. I chose the direction I thought led toward the main living area and began walking, taking my time as I passed several closed doors. The house was much brighter during the day, and the sunlight streaming through the tall windows made it easier to appreciate just how enormous the place was.

When I finally reached the living area, I stopped in the doorway. For a moment, I could only stare.

The room was far more beautiful than I thought. High ceilings stretched above me, decorated with intricate mouldings that looked like they had taken months to complete.

Tall windows were framed by heavy, cream-coloured curtains, and sunlight spilled across the polished marble floors.

Expensive-looking furniture filled the room without making it feel crowded. There were deep leather sofas, dark wooden tables, and antique cabinets that looked like they had been passed down through generations.

Ornate paintings hung along the walls, some depicting landscapes while others showed stern-looking men and women dressed in clothing from another century.

I took a few steps inside, my eyes moving from one thing to another. Everything here belonged in a historical mansion. That made sense going by the stories she had heard.

The Blackwoods weren't simply wealthy. Their estate had the kind of aura that suggested generations of wealth. I had never seen anything like it up close.

My gaze settled on a pair of tall decorative vases on a dark wooden console. They were painted with delicate patterns in blue and gold, and it was so glossy.

Curiosity drew me closer and I ran my fingertips lightly along the surface of one vase, careful not to disturb it, and shook my head in amazement. How much did something like this cost?

I quickly pulled my hand away, suddenly afraid I might accidentally break it. I had no intention of being remembered as the girl who destroyed an expensive antique on her first morning.

With one last glance at the vases, I continued exploring. I entered another part of the house, and I had no particular destination in mind. I simply wanted to find the kitchen before my stomach decided to embarrass me.

Then I noticed a room filled with light. I slowed as I approached the entrance. It looked different from the other rooms I had seen. Large windows lined one side, allowing the morning sun to pour inside without obstruction. Several green plants were arranged near the windows and in the corners, their leaves spreading toward the light.

Paintings covered parts of the walls, and a few canvases lined a side of the wall. There were brushes, pencils, containers of paint, and other smaller containers arranged across a broad worktable. An unfinished painting leaned against one wall, the colours and patterns looked like the beginnings of a landscape.

I stepped closer curiosly. Was this an art studio?

I had never expected to find a place like this inside Caspian's home. Judging by the number of paintings and art supplies, whoever used the room spent a considerable amount of time here.

My eyes wandered over the artwork displayed around me. Some pieces were bold and colourful, while others were very simple. A painting of a forest caught my attention, followed by a smaller picture of flowers arranged in a glass vase. But it was the artwork displayed on a wooden stand near the windows that made me stop completely.

I stared at it, my mouth falling open.

It was a mosaic of a wolf standing on a rocky cliff beneath a full moon. At first glance, the picture looked like an ordinary painting, with the wolf's dark shape sharply outlined against the pale moonlight. But as I moved closer, I realised it wasn't painted at all.

I gasped in surprise as I took it in.

The entire image had been assembled from hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tiny natural stones. Small pieces of dark stone formed the wolf's body, their uneven surfaces creating the impression of thick fur. Paler and whiter pebbles had been arranged to create the moon, while smaller grey stones shaped the rocky cliff beneath the wolf's paws. Even the shadows in the background had been formed by carefully selecting stones in different shades of black and brown.

I was mind blown. I leaned closer, trying to figure out how someone could turn ordinary stones into something so beautiful. How long had it taken to make?

I couldn't even imagine the patience required to arrange every tiny piece in just the right position. Some of the stones were barely larger than my fingernails, yet they had been placed so carefully that there were no obvious gaps between them.

It was beautiful.

I had never seen anything like it, and I found myself wanting a closer look. Before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand toward the surface, intending to feel the texture of the little stones.

“Don't touch that!”

The sharp voice came from behind me. I jerked around so quickly that my elbow struck the edge of the worktable. One of the small containers sitting there wobbled dangerously close to the edge.

“Oh!” I reached out instinctively, catching it before it could fall. Unfortunately, the movement was too sudden, and the container tipped in my hand.

A splash of paint landed across the front of my yellow tank top.

I froze.

For a moment, I could only stare at the colourful stain spreading across the fabric. No. No, no, no. I had barely been in this house for a day. I had already caused enough embarrassment to last me a lifetime, and now I had managed to spill paint.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze. Mira stood a few steps away, her arms stiff at her sides and her face twisted with anger. Her eyes moved from the spilled paint to the container in my hand before settling on the artwork behind me.

Then she looked at me. The expression on her face made my stomach drop. I had a feeling my morning was about to get a whole lot worse.