Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 270

Chapter 50: In the Center of the Stones

Maeve

The next day passed in a blur of activity. The city was buzzing, practically electric as Myla and I moved through the market square, the note from Una inviting us to a private, women only ceremony to invoke the full moon was scrunched in my fist as we pushed through the crowd.

“Did you feel, I don’t know, strange? Last night?” I asked Myla as we walked towards the river.

“Um, no. I guess not. I was missing Keaton, though. Why?”

*-It’s nothing,” i murmured, biting the inside of my lip.

“Well, do you feel strange, Maeve?” Myla asked.

“Yeah, actually. There’s something about this place that feels off to me. It doesn’t feel real? If that makes sense.”

Myla nodded soberly, lowering her gaze as we crossed over the narrow bridge, “I do understand that feeling. This place is too good to be true, I think. I don’t want to leave.”

“Neither do 1,” I breathed, admitting the fact lifting some tension from my shoulders.

Troy and I had left the lake before the rest of the group, barely making it back to the apartment without tearing off each other’s clothes. Once inside, he had pushed me up against the door, pulling the dress over my head and holding me there at arm’s length, looking at me as though for the first time.

The sex had been desperate, passionate, so unlike the awkward fumbling lesson in the art of passion like it had been on the ship. He had pushed me to the edge several times, leaving me begging, practically pleading with him as he covered my body with his lips.

I would have done anything he asked. I would have said anything he wanted. I had surrendered to him wholly for the first time, and I knew nothing would be the same after that.

And as I laid back on the bed, listening to his rhythmic breathing as he slept, I counted the dancing white wolves on the ceiling. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one…

“What do you think this ceremony is going to be like?” Myla asked, bringing me back down to reality.

“Troy said they’re probably going to sacrifice one of us.” *

Myla sputtered with laughter shaking her head, “Goddess, Maeve. I hope it’s you. My hair hasn’t looked this good in years! What a waste that would be.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Myla’s teasing, somewhat abrasive, sense of humor was a compliment to my own. She was not a serious person. I wondered how she got on with Keaton, who seemed to be fixed, and dependent, on his serious, dry nature.

the night before. The

hike,” Myla panted as we began to gain in elevation, the trail becoming uneven and broken up by large

up at

known we would be doing this, I would have just shifted and

* You still can,”

she was wearing. Just not in

a hill, looking over a field of large, uneven boulders. The trail disappeared into the field,

got to be kidding me!” Myla exclaimed, looking

rocks, creating a course of action in my

hopping my way across. It was fun, a physical challenge, especially in the ankle length dress I was wearing. Myla followed, a few boulders behind me, cursing audibly as she leapt from rock to rock on

crested another hill and finally looked down at the small congregation of women, arranged in small groups near the center of a

– Myla said, pausing at

right,” I said, arching my

creepy. One of us is definitely

looked at each other and laughed, wiping tears of

though the eeriness of the place had no effect

hugging us both in greeting, “I

a few things out,” Myla

jolt of electricity ran through my fingertips, and I pulled them away, clenching my hand into a fist as my ears began to ring. Tasia was

Una standing alone on the other side of the circle, her eyes fixating on my own

back to Tasia, but she was gone, moving through the groups as she leaned in to speak to the other women. Everyone started to move around, forming a

shuffling our feet in the soft grass as we

watching as Una walked

her voice

the group, the

She was their leader. She cared for them with her strength. Her hands tended to the land they called their home. Her voice comforted the sick, the dying, the mothers in childbirth as they brought forth life into the world.

Myla

getting sacrificed,” she whispered, “me, or

“Probably both of us,”

forward, their bodies twirling in a practiced dance. The sun was nearly set, the sky beginning to glisten with stars as the first sign of the

circle, dancing in the silence, weaving in and out of the

greatest gift, a selfless gift. Eternal mates. Fated by

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