Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 239
Chapter 19: This Was Heat
Maeve
Dinner with the Alpha and Luna of Greenbriar was a spectacr affair. The dining hall had been
returned to its formal glory with the long wooden table returned to its rightful ce and set with our
finest china. The cook had outdone herself tonight; our usual roast meat and potatoes was reced by
an extravagant array of game meats and side dishes,rge bowls of exotic fruits and bottles upon
bottles of vintage wine.
Ernest was back to his usual self, too. His dry monologue nearly put our guests into a stupor as they
gulped their wine. Alpha Julian seemed pleased by the conversation, though, nodding his head and
actively listening as Ernest drawled on.
Opaline was nearly ovee by boredom, and I was thankful when she announced she would retire to
her room for the night, giving me the freedom to take my leave instead of entertaining her in my seldom
used sitting room after dinner.
But then I found myself with several hours of free time before, well, whatever Aaron was nning on
doing to me.
I went up to my room and changed out of the evening gown I had worn to dinner, choosing a
comfortable, silken nightgown and a matching robe. The fabric felt weightless and luxurious against my
skin as I slipped into it. In Winter Forest, I was almost always decked out in thick nnel pajamas no
matter the time of year. Our house was heated solely by two wood stoves that we always failed to stoke
throughout the night. Dad liked the chore of chopping wood and the aplishment of heating the
house by hand himself, even though a servant could have done it for him, but his simplistic desires
caused the rest of us grief and chilly toes by morning.
I looked at myself in the mirror, admiring the new freckles on the bridge of my nose. The sunburn had
faded and left a soft pink glow in its wake. I was feeling confident, feeling ready. When Aaron came in, I
wouldn’t shy away, I told myself. I’d do what I needed to do, and maybe even enjoy myself.
But an hour passed, then another. Iid sprawled out on the bed looking at the ceiling as the clock
chimed ten times, signaling the hour. Nothing. No sound from his room, no footsteps in the hallway.
I rolled out of bed and turned off the light as I left my room, my bare feet soundless as I walked down
the stairs and toward the library. There was still life in the castle at this hour. Servants were busy tidying
up from the day, and the kitchen was noisy and filled with the sound of running water and nging
dishware.
But the library was quiet, shrouded in soft, inky darkness. Moonbeams fell in long shafts across the
rugs on the library’s lower level, dust floating in their wakes. I didn’t even bother lighting a candle as I
reached thedder leading to the upper loft and climbed up to the second story, smiling as Iid eyes
upon my favorite ce in the entire castle.
The loft was cozy, yet spacious, a corner of it lined with cushions and low-lying chaise lounges. It was
large enough to house five rows of bookshelves; however, the space between them was totally
shadowed by darkness. No one came up here but me, it seemed. I could leave a book open in the nest
of cushions and no one woulde and close it or put it away. It was my ce, my haven.
I hadn’t been reading long before I heard the library door open and shut and a light move through the
dark below me. Someone cleared their throat as they set a candle on a table, then cursed under their
breath as something fell and bounced across the carpet.
I crawled on my hands and knees over to the railing, looking down to see Aaron standing in the center
of the library, his face tilted up toward the ceiling with arge journal of some sort in his hand and a
pencil in the other. I watched him for a moment as he studied the mural above our heads, his pencil
moving across the paper with great speed.
But then his eyes met mine. And he screamed.
I screamed too, his outburst scaring the absolute wits out of me.
His face reddened furiously as his breathing returned to normal and he bent to pick up the journal and
pencil he had dropped, straightening up and fixing me with a steely re.
“You scared me to death!” he said, his voice choked and gravelly. I got off my knees and stood,
gripping the railing. “I thought you were a ghost, or demon.”
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“A demon?”
“You already are a demon. A real pain in my-” He mumbled inaudibly as he righted the papers that had
come loose from his journal when he dropped it.
“Were you drawing? Were you drawing the mural?”
He looked up at me, his face still serious and twisted in a scowl. “Why weren’t you in your room? I was
looking for you.”
“I waited up for you. It was gettingte.”
“What are you doing up there?” he asked, closing the journal.
“I asked you first,” I said, tilting my head to the side. He looked down at the journal in his hands and
sighed, reaching over to grab the candle from the table before making his way over to thedder.
A few secondster the journalnded with a thud on the floor of the loft, followed by Aaron and the
candle he had bnced in one hand. I crept away from the railing, giving him room to climb up over the
ladder. He handed me the candle, and I took it, setting it down on a stack of thick books and then sat
back down in the nest cushions, my heart thrumming rapidly against my chest.
Aaron crawled into the nest and plopped the journal between us, grunting softly as he made himself
comfortable. I had the sudden image of him as a wolf, imagining him with thick, dark brown fur and the
same spectacr eyes. He’d be huge, I was sure, lurking in the dark of the night and pawing the
ground like he was currently doing to the cushions.
“Can I open it?” I asked, my fingers tingling as my hand hovered over the well-worn leather cover. He
sighed deeply, his cheeks flushing a delicate rose as he nodded, turning away as I gently picked it up
and set it in myp.
Inside were dozens of sketches done in pencil, the lines blurred in spots where his hand had brushed
against what looked like hand-pressed paper, some sheets harboring tiny traces of nt matter and
dried petals.
I turned the pages slowly, taking time to linger on each page. He had drawnndscapes, portraits, and
pictures of boats so realistic it looked as though they’de off the page and settle in my hands. I
stopped on a page where he had drawn two men seated at a small table outside of a bar, rolled
cigarettes hanging off of their lips as they bent over a chess board. I could smell the picture, smell the
smoke and taste the tang of the bitter ales sitting in the warm sun on the table as they yed.
“These are incredible,” I whispered, careful not to touch the delicate charcoal marks.
There was a picture of a woman, her face obscure as though he was drawing her from a distant, almost
unreachable memory This one was done in color, gentle watercolor marks that pooled in some ces.
Brown hair, soft peach-colored skin. I looked up at Aaron as a sadness swept over me, tightening
around my heart. This was someone he had lost. “Who is she?” I whispered, looking up at him.
But he only shrugged, picking at the tassels on one of the pillows, avoiding eye contact
I turned the pages as the candle burned down, the me casting a soft glow across the drawings.
“Wait-” he said softly, reaching out as though to take the journal from my hands as I turned another
page, the image filling the paper taking my breath away.
It was me.
I wasughing, my mouth open in a beaming smile. My hair was piled on top of my head in my
signature bun the kind I did when my hair was too big and too knotted to even attempt to brush through
it. He had drawn the sharp angles of my face, the curve of my shoulder and the scar above my left
breast that was just visible where the image faded into smears of charcoal and dust
“I can’t get your eyes right,” he said softly.
“It’s like looking into a mirror. I…” I felt choked up, the tears beginning to well in the corner of my eyes
as I looked up at him.
He reached out, his fingers touching my temples, smoothing the hair from my face. It’s that look Right
there. I just can’t I can’t get it right-” He leaned in, brushing a kiss on my cheek, then my jaw, the
sensation sending ripples of goosetlesh up my arms. He kissed my mouth then, slowly, his hands
running down over my shoulders and forearms as he took my hands in his It wasn’t a hungry, needy
kiss. There was no primal greed. It was not like the kiss that day in the field or the kiss the night before
that was driven by purpose. This kiss was for us, and it was perfect.
I let go of his hands, reaching up to run my fingers through his thick hair. I felt warm all over as he took
my face in his hands,
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Chapter 19: This Was Heat
pulling me closer, kissing me with more power and conviction. Before I knew it, he was guiding me
backward onto the cushions, his hands running down my belly and waist and scrunching the fabric of
the silk dress up my thighs as his hands continued to explore.
It wasn’t long before we were naked against the cushions, his body zed with sweat and glistening in
the candlelight. He took his time, moving against the wetness between my legs, his fingers gripping my
hips as he took me, gently at first, then harder and hungrier as he pushed me towards the edge, the
sharp fullness giving way to pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
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Whatever this was wasn’t just business. This was heat. Need. A deeply rooted longing that threatened
to shatter my carefully crafted life. I was a goner, I realized. How could I let this end and watch him go,
separated by a turbulent and unforgiving sea?
His name was at the tip of my tongue as another wave of pleasure washed over me, causing me to
arch my back and cry out. He was smiling,ughing into my chest as he copsed, wrapping his arms
around me and bringing me to his chest as he rolled onto his back, holding me against his heart.
No, this was more than business. He was more than a breeder.
And I would never be the same.