Sold AS The alpha King's Breeder
Chapter 621
Chapter 621
CHAPTER 121 : THE MARK IS GONE
*Xander*
“Xander!”
I swung wildly into the dark, my clenched fist meeting with the side of someone’s jaw. My knuckles cracked against bone, my skin splitting with the impact. I roared with fury, fear, and pain.
I couldn’t see anything. Why couldn’t I see anything? Someone was holding me down, voices erupting nearby, all around.
“Sedate him–”
“Stick him with that needle, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do!”
Adrian’s voice rang through my ears, and I gasped, bucking against whoever or whatever was holding me down.
“I can’t see,” I rasped, whipping my head from side to side, “Adrian!”
“I’m here, Alpha.” I felt Adrian’s grip on my forearm and momentarily relaxed before reality rushed back to me, taking my breath away.
I thrashed against what felt like several people holding me down, the voices surrounding me now shouting in desperation to be heard.
“Xander, listen to me–”
“Where is Lena? Where–where am I?” I cut Adrian off, unable to hide the panic in my voice.
I felt a gentle touch against my cheek, someone with soft, feminine hands. For a moment I thought it was Lena, my heart skipping a beat and then breaking as someone else’s scent hit me.
“Take a breath,” Rosalie whispered, and I did, my body surrendering to her words while my mind fought against them. She reached to the back of my head and fumbled in my hair for a moment, then I felt fabric slide loose and graze my cheekbones as light flooded my eyelids.
I blinked frantically to adjust to the bright light overhead, some kind of lamp shining directly in my face.
My eyes began to adjust to the light as several shadowed figures hovered over me, their faces blurred and distorted.
“Are you going to freak out if we let you go?” Rosalie asked lightly, her voice warm and motherly as she gently tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.
I shook my head, or attempted to, the act sending a ripple of searing pain down my spine. I felt everyone holding me down ease up on their grip, and I shot straight upward in a seated position, screaming in agony.
“Damnit–his sutures!”
“Xander, lay back down!”
“Xander, listen to me–”
spots. I fell back again, panting as heat coursed
Realm–”
sleepy child, her touch
“You’re in Breles, Xander.”
Oliver’s voice, muffled and wet like he was speaking with a mouth full of water. I blinked into the light, my vision clearing enough to catch a glimpse of him standing
ring violently, and I couldn’t hear his reply, but based on the look in his eyes, I was sure that I’d split my knuckles open on his
hard in the ribs by none other than his mother, who was
dawn. I was in a tent–one of the war tents
on me, but
body. I gasped, then panicked, and hands came flying to
bandages. I didn’t know what my face looked like, and maybe it was a good
shredded. I’d been flayed
my blood,” Rosalie said, giving
How did I
long story,”
and Oliver’s
f**k
voice from just outside
in low tones as she retreated out of sight. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear
said flatly, his
“Lena–”
he held my gaze for a moment longer, then he walked away, pushing through the crowd of people who were
watch Oliver go. Everyone was silent for a moment before the healer cleared his throat. “I really need to continue patching him up,” he said, every word laced with annoyance. I hadn’t registered the Egoren warriors standing
are still
at the healer, who turned his back to us and began rifling through a cart of supplies. “It’s nearly
Adrian snarled audibly as the healer, who I hadn’t seen step toward me again, retreated a few steps, a syringe in his
Adrian growled, nearly foaming at the mouth
can’t be awake for this,” the
I painfully
“For what? What–”
under. I fought against the darkness creeping into my mind,
habit, but before I succumbed to sedation, I reached up to touch Lena’s mark on
I met nothing but open flesh, and
“No!”
your eyes, Xander,” Rosalie said,
was nothing but a strained, forced whisper. Through the numbness taking over my body, I could feel the anger roiling. Her mark, her mark that had cemented us as
me began to fade. I might have screamed. I might have roared like the
***
returning to the camp?” I asked the healer, a different one from the man who’d done his best to sew the gaping hole in my shoulder together only
an older woman with a round, somewhat plain face but striking dark brown eyes, only shrugged at my inquiry. “This is war. There is no schedule,” she replied tersely, motioning
as she pulled the blood soaked bandages from
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