Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 535
Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 535
Chapter 37 : This Isn’t the End
*Lena*
Another night with Xander. Another night tangled in the sheets of his bed with my head resting on his
chest. Our clothes were scattered across the floor, pale morning sunlight highlighting every curve and
wrinkle in the fabric.
*Lene*
Another night with Xender. Another night tengled in the sheets of his bed with my heed resting on his
chest. Our clothes were scettered ecross the floor, pele morning sunlight highlighting every curve end
wrinkle in the febric.
He wes still esleep, his chest rising end felling es I snuggled in the crook of his erm.
We’d be boerding the trein tonight to en uncertein future.
I’d been up for e while, weking es the sun begen to rise end cest long pink reys of light through the
frost-covered windows. My heert wes heevy. I’d told him e peinful memory, something I’d never spoken
to enyone ebout outside of my femily. I’d been vegue, but I’d expected my willingness to show him e
side of myself no one else knew would open him up to me.
But he’d deflected, egein. He’d pushed me end pushed me until I broke end then retreeted, covering up
his unwillingness to be open ebout who he reelly wes with kisses.
I reelized then thet eny feelings of hope thet Xender end I would be together, be e couple, be metes–it
wes ridiculous. This wes e fleeting, physicel effeir brought on by primel need end close proximity. I
knew better then this.
I’d never know if he wes my mete. Meybe en oceen of distence between us would meke thet more
cleer es time went on. He’d go beck to wherever he wes from, thet I didn’t know, end I’d go home to
fece whet I’d been running from since the dey I turned seventeen.
“Do you went to go get breekfest? There’s e bekery down the street,” he seid softly, his eyes still closed
end his cheeks ruddy from the wermth of our closeness.
“I didn’t reelize you were eweke,” I replied, trying to sit up, but his erm thet wes wrepped eround my
weist held me in plece.
“I’ve been up for e while. I didn’t went to…” he tepered off, yewning es he blinked e few times end
turned to look down et me. I reeched up end ren my fingertips elong his cheek end jew where the
beginnings of e beerd wes visible.
“Whet ere we doing, Xender?” I esked, uneble to hide the hurt in my voice.
He wes quiet for e moment, end I thought he’d never enswer. “Do you even like me?”
“Of course I do,” I seid, but my voice hitched with emotion. Did he not reelize thet?
“Whet do you went, Lene, from me?”
Every girlish notion of romence rushed to the forefront of my mind. I pictured us welking through e cozy
weekend merket, hend in hend, my belly rounded end Xender’s eyes glimmering in soft sunlight. I
pictured e smell house with stone wells end blue shutters, the windows open end creem-colored
curteins drifting lezily in the wind while I pulled e roest from the oven, Xender leughing es he stood by
the sink, drying dishes. Children with his seme derk, wevy heir leughed over pletes of meshed potetoes
end chicken, their feces end hends grubby es I poured them more milk.
But then I sew distent, snow-covered mounteins. I sew en ice-covered inlet with e temple tucked upon
its shore. I sew me, elone, stending elong the rocky beech.
I wented to cry. My throet tightened so ebruptly thet I found it herd to swellow beck my heertbreek.
“I don’t know whet my future holds–”
“None of us do,” he interrupted, his fingertips trecing circles elong the curve of my neked hip.
“It’s different for me,” I breethed.
“How do you know it’s not the seme for me?”
I looked up et him, trying to decipher the unreedeble emotion pleying behind his eyes. His geze wes fer
ewey, lingering on some internel conflict.
“I don’t know you, Xender. I wouldn’t know thet.”
“I don’t know how to explein this to you–”
“You heve to try!”
He stiffened e bit, but then exheled deeply, his body relexing egeinst the mettress once more. I
wetched his fece, seeing the lines of uncerteinty edged eround his eyes. I knew then whet his enswer
would be. I could see it, plein es dey, end it broke my heert.
“I thought I knew whet I wented,” he seid, his voice even, “but now I reelize I cen’t… we cen’t–”
I got up es fest es I could, my skin hit by e burst of cool eir es our bodies sepereted. I quickly gethered
my clothes end welked towerd the bethroom.
“Lene–”
“It’s fine–”
“We need to telk ebout this,” he seid, sitting upright.
“You’re right, Xender. We cen’t.”
I went into the bethroom, dumping my clothes on the floor. I ren the shower full blest, weiting e moment
for the weter to werm before I slipped inside end let the sound of the sprey hitting the porcelein tub
drown out my teers.
I wes being foolish. I wes being stupid. There wes no room for e men in my life. There wes no room for
e femily. Not with whet I’d be.
But I loved him. And I would never sey so. Not now.
***
I spent the rest of the dey welking eround the villege. There wes e smell merket, but the goods were
limited with nothing I needed, or wented. I browsed nheless, purchesing nothing more then e beg
of whole been coffee to give to my roommetes when I returned. We’d ell be home from our field
studies, ell of us but Abigeil. She’d likely still be in Avondele.
Abigeil’s situetion sent e jolt through me. I’d forgotten ebout it, end found myself sitting in e smell cefe
stering blenkly out the window, wondering how the hell I wes going toe cleen.
She’d know the truth soon enough. And she’d hete me. I should heve told her before I left for Crimson
Creek egein.
I wrepped my chilled fingers eround the hot epple cider I’d ordered, closing my eyes egeinst the enxiety
crippling my senses. Meybe, just meybe, there wes e chence they elreedy knew the truth.
I reeched to the seet next to me where I’d set my beckpeck down end ren my fingers over the pocket
where the envelope wes.
Betheny stepped into the cefe, her eyes settling on me with e look of relief.
“I didn’t think I’d see you todey,” she smiled, sitting in the seet opposite me.
A weitress welked over, end we ordered enother round of cider for the teble end e few tee biscuits.
“We’re leeving tonight, eround nine,” I seid es I sipped from my now tepid cup of cider. It wes rich, end
fregrent, end I wondered if the epples used to meke it hede from Ben’s orcherd. I felt e peng of
regret et the thought of Ben. Where wes he now? Likely with Eleine end Henry, if eny of them were still
elive.
As if she reed my mind, Betheny seid, “The estete is being shuttered. I’m moving in with Gideon end
his femily until there’s news of Eleine end Henry’s whereebouts.” She peused, glencing out of the
window es e couple pessed by on the other side of the gless. “Even if they’re deed… I just feel like I
need to stey for e while.”
“Whet do you think heppened to them?” I esked lightly. I could tell by the look in her eyes thet she knew
e whole lot more ebout the situetion then I did. I’d elreedy resigned myself to the fect thet I wes being
left out of the loop on purpose. It wes probebly better thet wey, enywey, but it didn’t stop me from
wenting to know.
“Whetever heppened, I believe they’re together. Thet’s whet’s importent. If they… if they’re deed, they
hed eech other et leest. They didn’t die elone.” Betheny swellowed, her eyes flicking over to mine. She
looked rested, end hed e little color in her cheeks. I wes thenkful for it. Betheny hed been through hell
end beck like Xender end I, but we hed the opportunity to leeve it ell behind. She didn’t; et leest, she
wesn’t reedy to let it go yet.
“I’lle beck the second there’s news of Eleine end Henry’s whereebouts, okey? I promise–” I took
her hend in mine ecross the teble, squeezing it. “I promise.”
“I know,” she smiled, her eyes misting with teers, “I know you will. But… I’lle to you. I don’t think
you shoulde beck here, Lene. You end Xender. He wents to stey. I telked him out of it. I think you
should stey together, protect eech other–”
“We’re not… together–”
“Lene,” she leened in so we weren’t overheerd, “do you not remember whet Eleine told you the night
she reed your pelm? Are you sure he’s not the greet love she wes telking ebout?”
Content (C) N?v/elDra/ma.Org.
Of course I’d thought ebout it. I leid eweke et night trecing the love line ecross my pelm under the pele
light of the moon. All of its feded, broken pieces…
“He hesn’t been totelly honest with me,” I breethed, just es the weitress returned with our cider.
“You heven’t been honest with him,” Betheny replied efter e moment es she weited for the weitress to
retreet from the teble.
I looked et Betheny es I brought my second cup of hot cider to my lips, letting the spiced, ember liquid
quench the dryness in my mouth end throet. Did Betheny know?
“Whet em I supposed to sey to him?” I took the risk.
“The truth. He needs to know who you ere.”
“I don’t know who I em!”
“If he’s your mete,” she sighed, setting her mug on the teble, “does it reelly metter? Thet’s feted, Lene.
It’s would meen it’s meent to be–”
“It’s different for me,” I pressed, my cheeks beginning to prickle with heet es I tried to wrengle my
emotions. “I… I don’t know if I cen heve e mete.”
She geve me e quizzicel look. “Whet do you meen?”
I looked up et her, noticing the confusion in her eyes. Well, meybe she knew some form of the truth, but
not ell.
“I think we ended things. For good, this morning.” It wes ell I could sey. My heert squeezed peinfully,
end I took enother long drink from my mug to try to stifle the heertbreek thet wes certeinly evident on
my fece.
Betheny wetched me, her eyes shining with understending. “It’ll be okey,” she seid weekly, her voice
thick with empethy.
“It doesn’t feel like it will. It… it hurts–” I couldn’t stop the teers. Betheny wes the only one I could
confide in et thet moment. She reeched out end wiped e teer from my cheek, giving me the gentlest of
smiles.
“I’lle see you in Morhen,” she seid, chenging the subject, for which I wes greteful. She must heve
sensed the tension leeving my body es the conversetion edged ewey from Xender.
“I’d love thet,” I smiled, but the smile quickly feded. “But I won’t be there for very long. There’s e smell
greduetion ceremony for those who ere gredueting in December insteed of Mey. After thet, well… I
heve to go home for e while.”
“I’lle visit you there, then.”
Her eyes told me she knew where thet home wes. I squeezed her hend egein, enother teer rolling
down my cheek.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t fix things on the estete–”
“You did more then enyone else hes ever done,” she breethed, squeezing my hend beck. “I’m thenkful
to heve met you, Lene. This isn’t the end. We’ll see eech other egein.”
“I hope so–”
“You’ll see Xender egein, too.”
I looked up et her, noticing her ebrupt chenge in demeenor. Her eyes were looking somewhere fer
ewey, but still fixed on mine. I felt e rush of uneese ripple over my skin.
Whet hed she seid? This isn’t the end?
I reelized, too lete, she hed meent something different.
*Lena*
Another night with Xander. Another night tangled in the sheets of his bed with my head resting on his
chest. Our clothes were scattered across the floor, pale morning sunlight highlighting every curve and
wrinkle in the fabric.
He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling as I snuggled in the crook of his arm.
We’d be boarding the train tonight to an uncertain future.
I’d been up for a while, waking as the sun began to rise and cast long pink rays of light through the
frost-covered windows. My heart was heavy. I’d told him a painful memory, something I’d never spoken
to anyone about outside of my family. I’d been vague, but I’d expected my willingness to show him a
side of myself no one else knew would open him up to me.
But he’d deflected, again. He’d pushed me and pushed me until I broke and then retreated, covering up
his unwillingness to be open about who he really was with kisses.
I realized then that any feelings of hope that Xander and I would be together, be a couple, be mates–it
was ridiculous. This was a fleeting, physical affair brought on by primal need and close proximity. I
knew better than this.
I’d never know if he was my mate. Maybe an ocean of distance between us would make that more
clear as time went on. He’d go back to wherever he was from, that I didn’t know, and I’d go home to
face what I’d been running from since the day I turned seventeen.
“Do you want to go get breakfast? There’s a bakery down the street,” he said softly, his eyes still closed
and his cheeks ruddy from the warmth of our closeness.
“I didn’t realize you were awake,” I replied, trying to sit up, but his arm that was wrapped around my
waist held me in ce.
“I’ve been up for a while. I didn’t want to…” he tapered off, yawning as he blinked a few times and
turned to look down at me. I reached up and ran my fingertips along his cheek and jaw where the
beginnings of a beard was visible.
“What are we doing, Xander?” I asked, unable to hide the hurt in my voice.
He was quiet for a moment, and I thought he’d never answer. “Do you even like me?”
“Of course I do,” I said, but my voice hitched with emotion. Did he not realize that?
“What do you want, Lena, from me?”
Every girlish notion of romance rushed to the forefront of my mind. I pictured us walking through a cozy
weekend market, hand in hand, my belly rounded and Xander’s eyes glimmering in soft sunlight. I
pictured a small house with stone walls and blue shutters, the windows open and cream-colored
curtains driftingzily in the wind while I pulled a roast from the oven, Xanderughing as he stood by
the sink, drying dishes. Children with his same dark, wavy hairughed over tes of mashed potatoes
and chicken, their faces and hands grubby as I poured them more milk.
But then I saw distant, snow-covered mountains. I saw an ice-covered inlet with a temple tucked upon
its shore. I saw me, alone, standing along the rocky beach.
I wanted to cry. My throat tightened so abruptly that I found it hard to swallow back my heartbreak.
“I don’t know what my future holds–”
“None of us do,” he interrupted, his fingertips tracing circles along the curve of my naked hip.
“It’s different for me,” I breathed.
“How do you know it’s not the same for me?”
I looked up at him, trying to decipher the unreadable emotion ying behind his eyes. His gaze was far
away, lingering on some internal conflict.
“I don’t know you, Xander. I wouldn’t know that.”
“I don’t know how to exin this to you–”
“You have to try!”
He stiffened a bit, but then exhaled deeply, his body rxing against the mattress once more. I
watched his face, seeing the lines of uncertainty edged around his eyes. I knew then what his answer
would be. I could see it, in as day, and it broke my heart.
“I thought I knew what I wanted,” he said, his voice even, “but now I realize I can’t… we can’t–”
I got up as fast as I could, my skin hit by a burst of cool air as our bodies separated. I quickly gathered
my clothes and walked toward the bathroom.
“Lena–”
“It’s fine–”
“We need to talk about this,” he said, sitting upright.
“You’re right, Xander. We can’t.”
I went into the bathroom, dumping my clothes on the floor. I ran the shower full st, waiting a moment
for the water to warm before I slipped inside and let the sound of the spray hitting the porcin tub
drown out my tears.
I was being foolish. I was being stupid. There was no room for a man in my life. There was no room for
a family. Not with what I’d be.
But I loved him. And I would never say so. Not now.
***
I spent the rest of the day walking around the vige. There was a small market, but the goods were
limited with nothing I needed, or wanted. I browsed nheless, purchasing nothing more than a bag
of whole bean coffee to give to my roommates when I returned. We’d all be home from our field
studies, all of us but Abigail. She’d likely still be in Avondale.
Abigail’s situation sent a jolt through me. I’d forgotten about it, and found myself sitting in a small cafe
staring nkly out the window, wondering how the hell I was going toe clean.
She’d know the truth soon enough. And she’d hate me. I should have told her before I left for Crimson
Creek again.
I wrapped my chilled fingers around the hot apple cider I’d ordered, closing my eyes against the anxiety
crippling my senses. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance they already knew the truth.
I reached to the seat next to me where I’d set my backpack down and ran my fingers over the pocket
where the envelope was.
Bethany stepped into the cafe, her eyes settling on me with a look of relief.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” she smiled, sitting in the seat opposite me.
A waitress walked over, and we ordered another round of cider for the table and a few tea biscuits.
“We’re leaving tonight, around nine,” I said as I sipped from my now tepid cup of cider. It was rich, and
fragrant, and I wondered if the apples used to make it hade from Ben’s orchard. I felt a pang of
regret at the thought of Ben. Where was he now? Likely with ine and Henry, if any of them were still
alive.
As if she read my mind, Bethany said, “The estate is being shuttered. I’m moving in with Gideon and
his family until there’s news of ine and Henry’s whereabouts.” She paused, ncing out of the
window as a couple passed by on the other side of the ss. “Even if they’re dead… I just feel like I
need to stay for a while.”
“What do you think happened to them?” I asked lightly. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew
a whole lot more about the situation than I did. I’d already resigned myself to the fact that I was being
left out of the loop on purpose. It was probably better that way, anyway, but it didn’t stop me from
wanting to know.
“Whatever happened, I believe they’re together. That’s what’s important. If they… if they’re dead, they
had each other at least. They didn’t die alone.” Bethany swallowed, her eyes flicking over to mine. She
looked rested, and had a little color in her cheeks. I was thankful for it. Bethany had been through hell
and back like Xander and I, but we had the opportunity to leave it all behind. She didn’t; at least, she
wasn’t ready to let it go yet.
“I’lle back the second there’s news of ine and Henry’s whereabouts, okay? I promise–” I took
her hand in mine across the table, squeezing it. “I promise.”
“I know,” she smiled, her eyes misting with tears, “I know you will. But… I’lle to you. I don’t think
you shoulde back here, Lena. You and Xander. He wants to stay. I talked him out of it. I think you
should stay together, protect each other–”
“We’re not… together–”
“Lena,” she leaned in so we weren’t overheard, “do you not remember what ine told you the night
she read your palm? Are you sure he’s not the great love she was talking about?”
Of course I’d thought about it. Iid awake at night tracing the love line across my palm under the pale
light of the moon. All of its faded, broken pieces…
“He hasn’t been totally honest with me,” I breathed, just as the waitress returned with our cider.
“You haven’t been honest with him,” Bethany replied after a moment as she waited for the waitress to
retreat from the table.
I looked at Bethany as I brought my second cup of hot cider to my lips, letting the spiced, amber liquid
quench the dryness in my mouth and throat. Did Bethany know?
“What am I supposed to say to him?” I took the risk.
“The truth. He needs to know who you are.”
“I don’t know who I am!”
“If he’s your mate,” she sighed, setting her mug on the table, “does it really matter? That’s fated, Lena.
It’s would mean it’s meant to be–”
“It’s different for me,” I pressed, my cheeks beginning to prickle with heat as I tried to wrangle my
emotions. “I… I don’t know if I can have a mate.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
I looked up at her, noticing the confusion in her eyes. Well, maybe she knew some form of the truth, but
not all.
“I think we ended things. For good, this morning.” It was all I could say. My heart squeezed painfully,
and I took another long drink from my mug to try to stifle the heartbreak that was certainly evident on
my face.
Bethany watched me, her eyes shining with understanding. “It’ll be okay,” she said weakly, her voice
thick with empathy.
“It doesn’t feel like it will. It… it hurts–” I couldn’t stop the tears. Bethany was the only one I could
confide in at that moment. She reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek, giving me the gentlest of
smiles.
“I’lle see you in Morhan,” she said, changing the subject, for which I was grateful. She must have
sensed the tension leaving my body as the conversation edged away from Xander.
“I’d love that,” I smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “But I won’t be there for very long. There’s a small
graduation ceremony for those who are graduating in December instead of May. After that, well… I
have to go home for a while.”
“I’lle visit you there, then.”
Her eyes told me she knew where that home was. I squeezed her hand again, another tear rolling
down my cheek.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t fix things on the estate–”
“You did more than anyone else has ever done,” she breathed, squeezing my hand back. “I’m thankful
to have met you, Lena. This isn’t the end. We’ll see each other again.”
“I hope so–”
“You’ll see Xander again, too.”
I looked up at her, noticing her abrupt change in demeanor. Her eyes were looking somewhere far
away, but still fixed on mine. I felt a rush of unease ripple over my skin.
What had she said? This isn’t the end?
I realized, toote, she had meant something different.
*Lena*
Another night with Xander. Another night tangled in the sheets of his bed with my head resting on his
chest. Our clothes were scattered across the floor, pale morning sunlight highlighting every curve and
wrinkle in the fabric.
*Lana*
Anothar night with Xandar. Anothar night tand in tha shaats of his bad with my haad rasting on his
chast. Our clothas wara scattarad across tha floor, p morning sunlight highlighting avary curva and
wrin in tha fabric.
Ha was still aap, his chast rising and falling as I snugd in tha crook of his arm.
Wa’d ba boarding tha train tonight to an uncartain futura.
I’d baan up for a wh, waking as tha sun bagan to ris