Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Chapter 9 Grandfather, It’s Me

Aaron

I could hear her quick footsteps behind me, her sandals tapping on the stone pavers as she struggled to keep up. “Aaron!”

“What?!” 1 rounded on her and she stopped short, skidding to a stop a few feet from where I stood. She had followed me out of the garden and across the wide stone walkway that led from the castle to the outskirts of the village below. “What, Maeve?”

“Why did you just walk away? I was talking,”

“I don’t want to talk about that day, alright? I’m sorry I’m not-not practically deformed, like you assumed.”

Her mouth dropped open for a second, then she snapped it shut, her sapphire eyes narrowing into cat-like slits. “I never said you were deformed!”

“You thought I should have been. Your memory is lacking, Maeve. How old were you? Six? Seven?”

“I was ten, Aaron-”

Ah, see? How much could you possibly remember from back then?” Sweat was prickling on my brow. I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hands, waiting for her reply.

Oh, Maeve was an open book. Every emotion danced across her face. She had no control of the furious red blush that spread across her cheeks and neck. She was a vision in the cream-colored set she was wearing, the loose fabric trembling in the breeze. Her hair was falling over her shoulders, long and bleached a vibrant golden color that reminded me of the vivid sunsets back home, when the sun turned the ocean a warm, pinkish orange as it dipped below the horizon.

She was beautiful. I couldn’t deny it. I wanted to reach out and touch the half-moon scar on her chest as she stood in front of me, slicing into my soul with her gaze. She had freckles all along her collarbones, surrounding the scar like constellations in a

cloudless sky.

I would draw her like this, standing in the field with the sun behind her and golden blades of grass at her feet, just like I had drawn her the night after I met her for the first time in the market, drawing her with her mouth stretched into a wide, full smile and her

eyes creased with laughter.

are you staring at?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Oh, there it was the one part of her I couldn’t capture with my pencil. That look

of emotion through her features. She did, in my defense, have on

closed the distance between us, her chin jutted forward, and her eyes narrowed into slits as she looked up at me. “I’m

grip. Maeve had every attribute of someone who had grown up with boys, especially brothers. She wasn’t the meek, submissive type of female so prevalent across the pack lands. No, Maeve was a powerhouse. But

me in the groin, I caught her by the thigh,

of grass from her hair and securing the hat snuggly on her head. Oh, she was seething.

after the storm. It had been totally innocent, of course, but the kiss hadn’t been, and I knew she felt

had mischief on her mind. She wanted a fight, for whatever reason, and I

that all you got?” I said, balling my hands into fists and crouching,

rolled onto her lower lashes. “Oh, sh*t. Maeve, I thought,” She burst into tears. F*ck. I pulled her into my chest, my hand on the back of her head as she trembled, her tears wet against my skin. “I’m sorry. I was being too rough. I can’t-I can’t read emotions well. I try, but,” Suddenly I remembered I was half naked and covered in charcoal from cutting down that charred tree, and I pushed her away, my hands on her shoulders as I held her at arm’s length. She was covered in it, black smears all down her chest and arms. She looked down, tears rolling from her

insecure, maybe.” I said, hoping I

brighter blue than before as

concussed. I don’t remember it at

I… I didn’t even

you that I had a scar?” I asked, my thumb tracing

be that Aaron,” she said, her face undergoing a rapid change. She was suddenly serious. “I needed you to still be

“Why?”

I—” She paused, the muscles in her shoulders tightening against my touch. I let her go, letting my hands fall to

I said, matter-of-factly. “Every time you look at me

touched the side of her mouth, fading as quickly as it had come. “I

the top of Maeve’s head as an elderly man came to a stop along the stone walkway,

Maeve turned around, startled.

his fingers knitted, his face drawn and expressionless as he nodded his

around her chest to hide the blackened fabric as she stepped

tensed, sensing the tension in the air as she passed Horace and continued up the walkway, looking

have done,” Horace growled, his