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.

opposite direction of where we had dined the night before. The sun was close to setting,

as we began to gain in elevation, the trail becoming uneven and broken up

it by now,” I replied, looking up at the mountain that seemed close enough to reach up and

this, I would have just shifted and had you carry

* You still can,”

I can do it on my feet. Just – She reached down, taking off the platform sandals she was wearing. Just not in these shoes!” We continued up the trail,

looking over a field of large, uneven boulders. The trail disappeared into the field, reappearing on the other

You’ve got to be kidding me!” Myla exclaimed, looking over

creating a

It was fun, a physical challenge, especially in the ankle length dress I was wearing. Myla followed, a few

another hill and finally looked down at the

hell – Myla said, pausing at

was right,” I said,

of us

wiping tears of mirth from our eyes as we approached

who were chatting amiably as though the eeriness of the place had no effect on

us both in greeting, “I was worried Mom was too vague in her

few things out,” Myla said,

my fingertips, and I pulled them away, clenching my hand into a fist as my ears began to ring. Tasia was watching me, her mouth slightly open as her

of the circle, her eyes fixating on my own as

the groups as she leaned in to speak to the other women. Everyone

feet in the soft grass as we looked around, eventually looking at each

watching as Una walked into the circle and turned around to face the group, her

the same as us,” she began, her voice cutting through the stillness, “but only isn’t a good word for a

murmur spread through the group, the women nodding in

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. And

in unison. Myla and I

she

“Probably both of us,”

was cut off by a sudden movement within the group, several women stepping forward, their bodies twirling in a practiced dance. The sun was nearly set, the

weaving in and out of the spaces

a selfless gift. Eternal mates. Fated by

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