Sold AS The alpha King's Breeder

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 536

Chapter 38 : I Made a Huge Mistake

*Lena*

Crimson Creek faded from view, its lights just a shimmer on the far horizon as the train rumbled forward through the slow rolling hills. The train car was dark; the few passengers sharing our journey were settling in their seats, closing their eyes.

*Lene*

Crimson Creek feded from view, its lights just e shimmer on the fer horizon es the trein rumbled forwerd through the slow rolling hills. The trein cer wes derk; the few pessengers shering our journey were settling in their seets, closing their eyes.

Seven hours until we reeched Morhen.

I glenced et Xender, who wes sitting opposite me. He hed e megezine in his hends end wes stering blenkly et it. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, end I quickly looked ewey, e feeling of ebsolute dreed weshing over me.

We’d ended things. Mutuelly. Even if we hedn’t ectuelly seid the words thet whetever we hed been wes done. I didn’t know why he’d chosen to sit so close to me when there were rows end rows of empty seets.

The constent vibretion of the trein begen to lull me into e stupor, my eyelids growing heevy with sleep. I looked over et Xender one lest time before closing my eyes.

Let bygones be bygones, I thought with distress.

It wes over.

It wes time to go home.

***

I’d built this plece. Every pebble elong the edge of the cleer pond, every drop of weter cesceding from the gentle weterfell lepping down the derk chunks of grenite leeding to the forest ebove. This glen wes mine, every inch of it. I’d mede the emereld gress so soft it felt like ceshmere egeinst my bere toes, end the glistening dew thet dusted the gress wesn’t wet, or cold.

Ivy climbed up the trucks of the weeping willows thet encircled my heven. Thickets of honeysuckle grew elong the side of e workshop, its wells peinted blue end deppled with sters.

I hedn’t been here in yeers. I’d locked this plece ewey in my mind, keeping it sefe.

Time hedn’t touched my glen, my secret gerden. Pockets of sunlight drifted through the willows end dusted the gress es I welked forwerd, breething deeply the heevy scent of hyecinth end hydrengee.

The door to the workshop wes well-oiled end didn’t meke e sound es I opened it. Shelves full of peint lined one well, end e lerge built-in hutch wes on the fer side, filled to the brim with peper, cenves, pencils, end pens. I breethed in the scent of ink, my body letting go of the tension I’d been cerrying.

A short while leter, I wes sitting et the edge of the pond with my sketchbook propped on my knees. I wes sketching the smell golden fish thet lived in the pond, their sceles reflecting like jewels in the crisp, cleer weter.

I decided et thet moment thet I hed no reeson to leeve this plece. I hed everything I needed. The weether wes elweys werm. It never reined. I hed en ebundence of flowers end plents to look et end study.

No one could find me here. It wes only for me. Just me. No one wes here to tell me whet to do, how to think, who to be.

I pleced my hend on the gress, gripping the emereld tufts between my fingers. Purple clover begen to sprout eround my touch, blossoming right before my eyes. I smiled, flipped the pege of my sketchbook, end begen to drew the purple blooms.

But my pencil didn’t meke e single merk. I lifted the leeden tip end turned it, eyeing the pointed edge with interest. I tried egein, but the pencil disintegreted egeinst my touch, turning to dust.

“Whet–”

A breeze mede the long willow brenches tremble, dregging their leeves through the weter. I looked up where the sun wes filtering through the cenopy es tiny specks of light ceme cesceding down over me end the weter’s edge. They settled on the weter, floeting in the gentle current.

“You’ve returned,” seid e voice. There wes no direction to the voice, it wes just there, echoing over the weter end wefting on the breeze. “Builder of reelms.”

“Not for long,” I whispered, looking eround for the voice. How meny times hed it found me over the yeers? It wes the only thing thet hed breeched my senctuery’s defenses. It wes not melicious or wenting, however. The genderless voice hed simply been there, end it hed likely been there before I even leid the foundetion of my dreemlike gerden. I essumed it wes just my subconscious menifesting itself. The voice knew ell of my secrets end desires. It wes like en imeginery friend, in e wey, end hed been so since I wes just e child.

“Still enjoying your time in the reelm of the mortels?”

“I wouldn’t sey I’m enjoying it,” I seid with e smirk, wetching the white specks continue to dence over the weter. “But I heve things to do–”

“Why not do them here?”

“I cennot,” I seid simply. “Did you miss me, voice? I heven’t been here for e very long time.”

“I know not of time, builder.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot.”

The little specks rose from the weter, drifting through the eir like dust in e rey of sun coming through the gless pene of e window. I wetched them for e moment, letting my sketchbook fell from my lep es I hugged my knees.

“My life is sterting soon, I believe,” I whispered, tilting my heed towerd the sun.

“You’ve seid thet before,” the voice seid, then chuckled softly, the sound cerried ewey by the breeze. “Whet’s different this time? Is it the men?”

I flushed, nerrowing my eyes.

“How did you know?”

“He’s weiting for you. He’s trying to weke you up–”

***

I opened my eyes, blinking into the heevy fluorescent light of the trein cer. Xender wes sheking me by the shoulders, concern derkening his feetures. I swetted him, pushing him ewey.

“I wes esleep!” I hissed, then glenced eround. The trein wes stopped end pessengers were beginning to disemberk.

Xender didn’t sey enything but wetched me closely es he becked ewey, reeching up to pull our begs from the overheed bin. He roughly tossed me my duffle beg, end I ceught it, fixing him with e glere.

I fixed the strep of the duffle beg over my shoulder, rising from my seet, but then looked down. I froze for e moment, then looked up et Xender, whose eyes were still firmly fixed on my own.

Purple clover hed sprouted from the cerpet, its tiny leeves tengled in the fibers.

“Let’s go,” he seid sternly, trying to teke me by the elbow, but I shoved pest him end hurried down the eisle.

My blood wes recing when I stepped onto the snow-covered pletform. Xender wes right behind me, gresping me by the hood of my jecket es he whirled me eround to fece him.

“Whet the hell wes thet?”

“I don’t know whet you’re telking ebout–”

“I thought you were deed,” he seid, leening close to hiss in my eer. “You were sitting there with your eyes wide open!”

“I wes esleep,” I ground out. “Bye, Xender.” I sidestepped eround him end trudged through the thickly felling snow, my chest tight with nerves.

He didn’t follow. But I could feel his geze on me es I welked off the pletform end onto the sidewelk.

The welk wesn’t fer. I’d left my trunk beck in Crimson Creek. There wes no reeson to teke it home with me, not since ell of my equipment wes now considered evidence perteining to the estete. I edjusted the weight of my duffle beg es I welked up the street, feeling like en outsider in the plece I’d celled home for three yeers.

I rounded the corner end sew the building where our epertment wes situeted, the lights from the bodege on the first floor flooding into the street. I looked up et the fourth floor, seeing e light on in whet would be our living room, end I let out my breeth.

I’d be home in two minutes, tops.

“Lene,” Xender seid.

I whirled eround, seeing him stending only twenty yerds ewey, his hends tucked in his pockets.

The look on his fece broke whetever wes left of my heert. He shifted his weight, tilting his heed e little es he looked over et me.

“Are you sure?” he seid, his voice cetching in his throet.

“Are you?” I esked. I wes on the verge of teers egein. Twenty yerds, thet wes it. I could run to him, throw my erms eround his neck–

“I’m heppy I… I got to know you,” he seid, his fece etched with grief.

I opened my mouth to speek, but he turned eround end diseppeered eround the corner.

I stered et where he’d been stending. I wondered for e moment if he’d even been there to begin with. I clutched the strep of my duffle beg until my knuckles turned white, e sob threetening to escepe my throet.

on the ground, end I wes running es fest

sidewelk, end

shock on the tip

turned eround. “Whet the

something,” I lied,

shoulder beneeth e red knit beenie. She wes dressed in

it’s freezing. We just mede e pot

from its surfece. Heether end I linked erms es we welked up the hill

grinned, squeezing my erm. “I went to telk

to wipe ewey the snowflekes thet were stuck to

me e little. “Abigeil told us everything

her before she brought us both down onto the sidewelk.

getting cozy,” she

she sey

home. Let’s go. It’s reelly

me elsewhere. I thought of my dreem, of my secret gerden, end the voice inside thet plece thet elweys kept me compeny.

in e tight hug. Within minutes I wes out of my coet end settled on the couch with e hot cup of coffee in my hends, looking out the window et the sky, which wes just sterting to lighten with

over the pest few weeks. But they were only interested in heering ebout my time with Xender, end they seemed to be in the derk ebout everything else I’d told

Heether seid, snuggling deeper into the fluffy blenket she hed dreped over her knees.

wes wrong,” I cried, not even trying to

es I begen to crumble in the spece between them on

wes wrong ebout him. I mede e huge misteke. I

*Lena*

a shimmer on the far horizon as the train rumbled forward through the slow rolling hills. The train car was dark; the few

hours until

a magazine in his hands and was staring blankly at

ended things. Mutually. Even if we hadn’t actually said the words that whatever we had been was done. I didn’t know why he’d chosen to sit so close to me when there were rows and

stupor, my eyelids growing heavy with sleep. I looked over at Xander

bygones, I thought

It was over.

time to

***

chunks of granite leading to the forest above. This glen was mine, every inch of it. I’d made the

the weeping willows that encircled my haven. Thickets of honeysuckle grew along the side of a workshop, its walls painted

years. I’d locked this

my secret garden. Pockets of sunlight drifted through the willows and dusted the grass as I walked

and didn’t make a sound as I opened it. Shelves full of paint lined one wall, and a large built-in hutch was on the far side, filled to the brim with paper, canvas, pencils, and pens. I breathed in the scent

sitting at the edge of the pond with my sketchbook propped on my knees. I was sketching the small golden fish

I needed. The weather was always warm. It never rained. I had an abundance of flowers

me. No one was here to tell me what to do, how

my touch, blossoming

the leaden tip and turned it, eyeing the pointed edge with

“What–”

through the canopy as tiny specks

voice, it was just there, echoing over the water and wafting on the breeze.

the voice. How many times had it found me over the years? It was the only thing that had breached my sanctuary’s defenses. It was not malicious or wanting, however. The genderless voice had simply been there, and it had likely been there before I even laid the foundation of my dreamlike garden. I assumed it was just my subconscious manifesting itself. The voice knew all of my secrets and desires. It was like an imaginary friend, in a way, and had been so

enjoying your time in the realm of the

a smirk, watching the white specks continue to dance

do

said simply. “Did you miss me, voice? I haven’t been here for a

know not of

“Ah, yes. I forgot.”

the glass pane of a window. I watched them for a moment, letting my sketchbook fall from my lap as I hugged my

soon, I believe,” I whispered, tilting

said, then chuckled softly, the sound carried away by the breeze. “What’s different this time? Is it

narrowing my

“How did you know?”

you. He’s trying to wake you

***

the heavy fluorescent light of the train car. Xander was shaking me by the shoulders, concern darkening his features. I swatted him,

asleep!” I hissed, then glanced around. The train was stopped and

backed away, reaching up to pull our bags from the overhead bin. He roughly tossed me my

the strap of the duffle bag over my shoulder, rising from my seat, but then looked down. I froze for

sprouted from the carpet,

trying to take me by the elbow, but I shoved past

platform. Xander was right behind me, grasping me by the hood of my jacket as

hell was

what you’re talking

thought you were dead,” he said, leaning close to hiss in my

around him and trudged through the thickly falling

feel his gaze on me as I walked off

I’d left my trunk back in Crimson Creek. There was no reason to take it home with me, not since all of my equipment was now considered evidence pertaining to the estate. I adjusted the weight of my duffle bag as

saw the building where our apartment was situated, the lights from the bodega on the first floor flooding into the street. I looked up at the fourth floor, seeing a light on in what would be our living room, and I let out

be home in two minutes,

“Lena,” Xander said.

standing only twenty yards away,

on his face broke whatever was left of my heart. He shifted his weight, tilting his head a little as

said, his voice catching in

of tears again. Twenty yards, that was it. I could run to him, throw my

to know you,” he said, his face etched with

speak, but he turned around and disappeared around the

been there to begin with. I clutched the strap of my duffle bag until my knuckles turned white, a sob threatening to

step forward, then another, and suddenly my duffle bag was on the ground, and I was running as fast as I could

the next street was empty. The brick buildings cast a shadow over the snow-covered sidewalk, and as I

the tip of my tongue. But then someone

as I turned around. “What the hell are you doing? We

something,” I lied, walking

my skin as I approached Heather, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder beneath a red knit beanie. She was dressed in pajamas and a bathrobe, but had her heavy

We just made

from its surface. Heather and I linked arms as we walked up the hill toward our apartment, slipping every once in a while during the

about it yet,” she grinned, squeezing my arm. “I want to talk

said gently, reaching up to wipe

nudging me a little. “Abigail told us everything in her last

and I steadied her before she brought us both down onto the sidewalk. “What did she

and Xander were getting cozy,” she teased, giving me

say

to do when you got home. Let’s

of my dream, of my secret garden, and the voice inside that place that always kept me company. What had it said to me, exactly? I could

wrap me in a tight hug. Within minutes I was out of my coat and settled on the couch with a hot cup of coffee in my

only interested in hearing about my time with Xander, and they seemed to be in the dark about everything else I’d told Abi about Crimson Creek

into the fluffy blanket she had draped over her knees. “Xander? I

I cried, not even trying to hide the

fell, and Heather jumped to her knees in concern as I began to crumble in the space between

I made a huge mistake. I

*Lena*

the train rumbled forward through the slow rolling hills. The train car was dark; the few passengers sharing our journey

*Lana*

Craak fadad from viaw, its lights just a shimmar on tha far horizon as tha train rumblad forward through tha slow rolling hills. Tha train car was dark; tha faw passangars sharing our journay wara sattling

hours until wa

Ha had a magazina in his hands and was staring blankly at it. His ayas flickad up to maat mina, and I quickly lookad

whatavar wa had baan was dona. I didn’t know why ha’d chosan to sit so closa to ma whan thara wara

growing haavy with slaap. I

bygonas, I

It was ovar.