Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 501

Chapter 3: I’m Being Expelled?

*Lena*

The dean’s office was located on the edge of campus, situated on the shore of the massive lake that separated the small city of Morhan from the sprawling metropolis of Breles. I could see the water from where I sat. The deep blue water was glistening beyond the ceiling-height windows in the dean’s office, blocked by the figure of Assistant Dean Redmon, who was seated behind the dean’s desk.

“Dean Weatherford couldn’t be here today,” Assistant Dean Redmon murmured, flipping a page of the file he was holding-my file. I could see my name printed at the top.

“Why am I here?” I asked, stifling the tremble in my voice. I’d never been in trouble at school before, not once in my entire life.

The assistant dean glanced up at me, his eyes fixated on mine for a moment. He was an older man, slight of build with short, wispy Slate hair. But his eyes, a strange sea- green color, were kind, which I was thankful for. He looked somewhat sorry for me as he glanced down at his watch and then turned his focus toward the door.

“There was a report of misconduct between you and an adjunct professor.”

I knew it. I’d had a glimmer of hope that whoever had made the report had made it against Slate, and I was only here to corroborate it and give my side of the story.

But to my horror, Slate walked through the door, looking as smug as could be. He leaned against the wall, facing me with a smirk on his face. Assistant Dean Redmon looked him up and down before sighing heavily and turning his attention to my file once more.

“Morhan College’s code of ethics firmly states that students and professors are strictly forbidden from entering into any kind of intimate relationship. You signed the code of ethics, Lena, so I’m not going to ask you if you’re familiar-”

“I know,” I said firmly, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

“Slate Tamlin reported to Dean Weatherford that you have made several advances toward him over the last quarter, including waiting outside the first-year building for his classes to dismiss, if this is correct?”

I almost choked. I looked from Assistant Dean Redmon to Slate.

“I’m sorry, what?“

“Professor Tamlin,” Slate corrected, looking down at his manicured fingernails. “It’s professor-”

Lena, that you have

to the truth. I’d like to talk to you privately, Dean Redmon, please?” My voice was shaking, but at the moment I didn’t care. Slate looked entirely pleased

smugly, turning his eyes

rose from my chair. “I haven’t been trying to pursue a relationship with Professor Tamlin, not in the slightest. In fact, I’ve been trying to avoid him at all

his hand, demanding quiet. I snapped my mouth shut, breathing heavily through my nose as I glanced over at Slate. He looked somewhat nervous

said-” Slate began, but Assistant Dean Redmon waved his

uncle can counsel you at a different time about the accusations brought forth against you, Professor Tamlin. For now, I’d like to speak to her alone.” It wasn’t a question, and I could see the look of surprise,

asked to be here, and because he was Dean Weatherford’s nephew and

had thrown his accusation back in his face by telling the truth, and Assistant Dead

parting look of marked disapproval before slamming

up at Assistant Dean

as he closed my file. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his

summer break, and… when I came back to campus, he continued to bother me. He has recently started showing up at the apartment I share with my roommates, throwing pebbles at my window at all hours of the night. I have to walk by the first-year building on my way to the greenhouses,

tongue along my lower

of the first-year building. He is under the impression we’re mates. We aren’t. I’m not twenty-one yet, but I

ran his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he

still allowed to work on campus, then?” I stammered, shocked by the

uncle-Weatherford-doesn’t want bad press, and it’s easier to dismiss the student than it is to put the blame on his own flesh and blood. Slate Tamlin has been a problem for years, but this is the first time he’s come forward with accusations against a student, rather than it being

to hide the desperation

file, shaking his head in defeat. “The

can’t transfer! I’m supposed to graduate in December. I have my last final next week. The botany

I’d have to complete the University of Mirage’s required undergraduate courses before I could even begin whatever courses they require in their botany program that were different from Morhan’s curriculum. The school

rose from my chair again, ready to get on

Then my field study. I put in for Red Lakes; I’d be gone for six weeks. I wouldn’t need to come back to campus again after that, Assistant Dean Redmon. Please, there

it will likely be Slate Tamlin who starts it-we’ll have no choice

He let out his breath and rose

final, next week. I’ll speak to your professor and have the final set up for tomorrow, or Friday, whichever is more convenient. Your GPA alone grants you a place at

excitement. But my excitement was quickly turned to dread as he

most prestigious students, those who’ve earned