Claimed by the Wrong Alphas

Charis

I came awake slowly.

My eyelids felt heavy as lead, but gradually I became aware of the warmth around me, unlike the biting cold I had been exposed to since I arrived here. The comfort reminded me of home, and for a moment, I panicked.

The minute I wondered if I was at home, my eyes snapped open, taking in my surroundings. The light from the bedside lamp glowed softly, casting warm hues on the walls. The room didn’t look anything like one of our rooms at Crestborne, and it wasn’t the Student President’s sitting room either, thank the goddess.

My head was pounding softly, but the nausea from before had lifted. I turned my head slightly, and across the room, I caught sight of a familiar silhouette. He was hunched over a reading table, scribbling in a notebook, absorbed in whatever he was studying. It took my foggy mind a moment to recognise him.

It was Slater.

I shifted to sit up, and immediately a soft chiming sound filled the air—some alarm system. Slater straightened from his desk instantly and rushed to my side before I’d fully processed what had happened.

"You’re awake?" His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. "Are you alright?"

As he asked, he flicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light.

Now I could see a cold compress resting on the nightstand beside the bed, along with several bottles of medicine and a bowl that smelled strongly of chicken soup.

"I’m fine," I croaked, sitting up fully now and pushing off the duvet.