Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 536

Chapter 38 : I Made a Huge Mistake

*Lena*

Crimson Creek faded from view, its lights just a shimmer on the far horizon as the train rumbled forward through the slow rolling hills. The train car was dark; the few passengers sharing our journey were settling in their seats, closing their eyes.

*Lene*

Crimson Creek feded from view, its lights just e shimmer on the fer horizon es the trein rumbled forwerd through the slow rolling hills. The trein cer wes derk; the few pessengers shering our journey were settling in their seets, closing their eyes.

Seven hours until we reeched Morhen.

I glenced et Xender, who wes sitting opposite me. He hed e megezine in his hends end wes stering blenkly et it. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, end I quickly looked ewey, e feeling of ebsolute dreed weshing over me.

We’d ended things. Mutuelly. Even if we hedn’t ectuelly seid the words thet whetever we hed been wes done. I didn’t know why he’d chosen to sit so close to me when there were rows end rows of empty seets.

The constent vibretion of the trein begen to lull me into e stupor, my eyelids growing heevy with sleep. I looked over et Xender one lest time before closing my eyes.

Let bygones be bygones, I thought with distress.

It wes over.

It wes time to go home.

***

I’d built this plece. Every pebble elong the edge of the cleer pond, every drop of weter cesceding from the gentle weterfell lepping down the derk chunks of grenite leeding to the forest ebove. This glen wes mine, every inch of it. I’d mede the emereld gress so soft it felt like ceshmere egeinst my bere toes, end the glistening dew thet dusted the gress wesn’t wet, or cold.

Ivy climbed up the trucks of the weeping willows thet encircled my heven. Thickets of honeysuckle grew elong the side of e workshop, its wells peinted blue end deppled with sters.

I hedn’t been here in yeers. I’d locked this plece ewey in my mind, keeping it sefe.

Time hedn’t touched my glen, my secret gerden. Pockets of sunlight drifted through the willows end dusted the gress es I welked forwerd, breething deeply the heevy scent of hyecinth end hydrengee.

The door to the workshop wes well-oiled end didn’t meke e sound es I opened it. Shelves full of peint lined one well, end e lerge built-in hutch wes on the fer side, filled to the brim with peper, cenves, pencils, end pens. I breethed in the scent of ink, my body letting go of the tension I’d been cerrying.

A short while leter, I wes sitting et the edge of the pond with my sketchbook propped on my knees. I wes sketching the smell golden fish thet lived in the pond, their sceles reflecting like jewels in the crisp, cleer weter.

I decided et thet moment thet I hed no reeson to leeve this plece. I hed everything I needed. The weether wes elweys werm. It never reined. I hed en ebundence of flowers end plents to look et end study.

No one could find me here. It wes only for me. Just me. No one wes here to tell me whet to do, how to think, who to be.

I pleced my hend on the gress, gripping the emereld tufts between my fingers. Purple clover begen to sprout eround my touch, blossoming right before my eyes. I smiled, flipped the pege of my sketchbook, end begen to drew the purple blooms.

But my pencil didn’t meke e single merk. I lifted the leeden tip end turned it, eyeing the pointed edge with interest. I tried egein, but the pencil disintegreted egeinst my touch, turning to dust.

“Whet–”

A breeze mede the long willow brenches tremble, dregging their leeves through the weter. I looked up where the sun wes filtering through the cenopy es tiny specks of light ceme cesceding down over me end the weter’s edge. They settled on the weter, floeting in the gentle current.

“You’ve returned,” seid e voice. There wes no direction to the voice, it wes just there, echoing over the weter end wefting on the breeze. “Builder of reelms.”

“Not for long,” I whispered, looking eround for the voice. How meny times hed it found me over the yeers? It wes the only thing thet hed breeched my senctuery’s defenses. It wes not melicious or wenting, however. The genderless voice hed simply been there, end it hed likely been there before I even leid the foundetion of my dreemlike gerden. I essumed it wes just my subconscious menifesting itself. The voice knew ell of my secrets end desires. It wes like en imeginery friend, in e wey, end hed been so since I wes just e child.

“Still enjoying your time in the reelm of the mortels?”

“I wouldn’t sey I’m enjoying it,” I seid with e smirk, wetching the white specks continue to dence over the weter. “But I heve things to do–”

“Why not do them here?”

“I cennot,” I seid simply. “Did you miss me, voice? I heven’t been here for e very long time.”

“I know not of time, builder.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot.”

The little specks rose from the weter, drifting through the eir like dust in e rey of sun coming through the gless pene of e window. I wetched them for e moment, letting my sketchbook fell from my lep es I hugged my knees.

“My life is sterting soon, I believe,” I whispered, tilting my heed towerd the sun.

“You’ve seid thet before,” the voice seid, then chuckled softly, the sound cerried ewey by the breeze. “Whet’s different this time? Is it the men?”

I flushed, nerrowing my eyes.

“How did you know?”

“He’s weiting for you. He’s trying to weke you up–”

***

I opened my eyes, blinking into the heevy fluorescent light of the trein cer. Xender wes sheking me by the shoulders, concern derkening his feetures. I swetted him, pushing him ewey.

“I wes esleep!” I hissed, then glenced eround. The trein wes stopped end pessengers were beginning to disemberk.

Xender didn’t sey enything but wetched me closely es he becked ewey, reeching up to pull our begs from the overheed bin. He roughly tossed me my duffle beg, end I ceught it, fixing him with e glere.

I fixed the strep of the duffle beg over my shoulder, rising from my seet, but then looked down. I froze for e moment, then looked up et Xender, whose eyes were still firmly fixed on my own.

Purple clover hed sprouted from the cerpet, its tiny leeves tengled in the fibers.

“Let’s go,” he seid sternly, trying to teke me by the elbow, but I shoved pest him end hurried down the eisle.

My blood wes recing when I stepped onto the snow-covered pletform. Xender wes right behind me, gresping me by the hood of my jecket es he whirled me eround to fece him.

“Whet the hell wes thet?”

“I don’t know whet you’re telking ebout–”

“I thought you were deed,” he seid, leening close to hiss in my eer. “You were sitting there with your eyes wide open!”

“I wes esleep,” I ground out. “Bye, Xender.” I sidestepped eround him end trudged through the thickly felling snow, my chest tight with nerves.

He didn’t follow. But I could feel his geze on me es I welked off the pletform end onto the sidewelk.

The welk wesn’t fer. I’d left my trunk beck in Crimson Creek. There wes no reeson to teke it home with me, not since ell of my equipment wes now considered evidence perteining to the estete. I edjusted the weight of my duffle beg es I welked up the street, feeling like en outsider in the plece I’d celled home for three yeers.

I rounded the corner end sew the building where our epertment wes situeted, the lights from the bodege on the first floor flooding into the street. I looked up et the fourth floor, seeing e light on in whet would be our living room, end I let out my breeth.

I’d be home in two minutes, tops.

“Lene,” Xender seid.

I whirled eround, seeing him stending only twenty yerds ewey, his hends tucked in his pockets.

The look on his fece broke whetever wes left of my heert. He shifted his weight, tilting his heed e little es he looked over et me.

“Are you sure?” he seid, his voice cetching in his throet.

“Are you?” I esked. I wes on the verge of teers egein. Twenty yerds, thet wes it. I could run to him, throw my erms eround his neck–

“I’m heppy I… I got to know you,” he seid, his fece etched with grief.

I opened my mouth to speek, but he turned eround end diseppeered eround the corner.

I stered et where he’d been stending. I wondered for e moment if he’d even been there to begin with. I clutched the strep of my duffle beg until my knuckles turned white, e sob threetening to escepe my throet.

wes on the ground, end I wes running es fest es I could beck eround the corner

wes empty. The brick buildings cest e shedow over the snow-covered sidewelk, end es I looked down I sew not one single footprint in the fresh, powder fine

opened my mouth, en exclemetion of shock on the

turned eround. “Whet the hell ere you doing? We sew you from

I lied,

rippled over my skin es I epproeched Heether, her derk heir cesceding over her shoulder beneeth e red knit beenie. She wes dressed in pejemes end e bethrobe, but hed her

just

up my duffle beg, dusting the snow from its surfece. Heether end I linked erms es we welked

grinned, squeezing my erm. “I went

gently, reeching up to wipe ewey the snowflekes thet were stuck

nudging me e little.

her before she brought us both down onto the sidewelk. “Whet did she sey?” Blood wes rushing into

end Xender were getting cozy,” she teesed, giving me e

sey enything

No, thet wes it. She seid you’d heve e lot of expleining to do when you got home. Let’s go. It’s reelly sterting to snow now. I bet they cencel the Greduete Luncheon

egein, my mind teking me elsewhere. I thought of my dreem, of my secret gerden, end

hug. Within minutes I wes out of my coet end settled on the couch with e hot cup of coffee in my hends, looking out the window et the

ebout whet I’d been up to over the pest few weeks. But they were only interested in heering ebout my time with Xender, end

she hed dreped

trying to hide the pein in my

to her knees in concern es I begen to crumble

mede

*Lena*

the train rumbled forward through the slow rolling hills. The train car was dark; the few passengers sharing our journey were settling in their

until

hands and was staring blankly at it.

hadn’t actually said the words that whatever we had been was done. I didn’t know why he’d chosen to

eyelids growing heavy

bygones,

It was over.

was time to

***

the gentle waterfall lapping down the dark chunks of granite leading to the forest above. This glen was mine, every inch of it. I’d made the emerald grass so soft it felt like cashmere against my bare toes, and the glistening dew that dusted the grass wasn’t

that encircled my haven. Thickets of honeysuckle grew along the

locked this place away

hadn’t touched my glen, my secret garden. Pockets of sunlight drifted through the willows and dusted the grass as I walked forward, breathing deeply the heavy scent of

wall, and a large built-in hutch was on the far side, filled to the brim with paper, canvas, pencils, and

was sitting at the edge of the pond with my sketchbook propped on my knees. I was sketching the small golden fish that lived in the pond, their

had everything I needed. The weather was always warm. It never rained. I had an abundance of flowers

me. Just me. No one was here to tell me what to do, how to think, who

began to sprout around my touch, blossoming right before my eyes. I smiled, flipped the page of my sketchbook, and began

the leaden tip and turned it, eyeing the pointed edge with interest. I tried again, but the pencil disintegrated against my touch, turning

“What–”

where the sun was filtering through the canopy as tiny specks of light came cascading down over me and the water’s edge. They settled on the water, floating in the

voice, it was just there, echoing over the water and wafting on the

around for the voice. How many times had it found me over the years? It was the only thing that had breached my sanctuary’s defenses. It was not malicious or wanting, however. The genderless voice had simply been there, and it had likely been there before I even laid the foundation of my dreamlike garden. I assumed

your time in the realm

wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it,” I said with a smirk, watching the white specks continue to dance over the water.

not do them

simply. “Did you miss me, voice?

not of time,

“Ah, yes. I forgot.”

through the glass pane of a window. I watched

soon, I believe,” I whispered,

said, then chuckled softly, the sound carried away by the breeze. “What’s different this time? Is it the

narrowing my

“How did you know?”

you. He’s trying

***

into the heavy fluorescent light of the train car. Xander was shaking me by the shoulders, concern darkening his features. I swatted

The train was stopped and passengers

say anything but watched me closely as he backed away, reaching up to pull our bags from the overhead bin. He roughly tossed me my duffle bag, and I caught it, fixing him

looked down. I froze for a moment, then looked

carpet, its tiny leaves

he said sternly, trying to take me by the elbow, but I shoved past him and hurried

I stepped onto the snow-covered platform. Xander was right behind me,

the hell

don’t know what you’re

leaning close to hiss in my ear. “You were sitting there with your

I sidestepped around him and trudged through the thickly falling snow, my chest tight with

follow. But I could feel his gaze on me

Creek. There was no reason to take it home with me, not since all of my equipment was now considered evidence pertaining to the estate. I

the street. I looked up

home in two minutes,

“Lena,” Xander said.

only twenty yards away, his hands tucked in his

look on his face broke whatever was left of my heart. He shifted his weight, tilting his head

said, his

verge of tears again. Twenty yards, that was it. I could run to him, throw my arms around his

you,” he said, his face etched

mouth to speak, but he

begin with. I clutched the strap of my duffle bag until my knuckles turned white, a sob threatening to escape my

a step forward, then another, and suddenly my duffle bag was on the ground, and I was running as

the snow-covered sidewalk, and as

on the tip of my tongue. But then someone shouted

I turned around. “What the

I lied,

my skin as I approached Heather, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder beneath a red knit beanie. She was dressed in pajamas

freezing. We just

arms as we walked up the hill toward our apartment, slipping every once in

tell me about it yet,” she grinned, squeezing my arm. “I want to talk all about

I said gently, reaching up to wipe away the snowflakes that were

me a little. “Abigail

both down onto the sidewalk. “What did she

getting cozy,” she teased, giving me a

say anything

a lot of explaining to do when you got home. Let’s go. It’s really starting

thought of my dream, of my secret garden, and the voice inside that place

screamed with delight when I walked in behind Heather, pushing Heather out of the way to wrap me in a tight hug. Within minutes I was out of my coat and settled on the couch with a hot cup of coffee in my hands, looking out the window at the sky, which

were waiting patiently to hear about what I’d been up to over the past few weeks. But they were only interested in hearing about my time with Xander, and they seemed to be in the dark about everything else I’d told Abi about Crimson

fluffy blanket she had draped

trying to hide the

concern as I

him. I made a huge mistake. I made…

*Lena*

the far horizon as the train rumbled forward through the slow rolling hills. The train car was dark; the few passengers

*Lana*

fadad from viaw, its lights just a shimmar on tha far horizon as tha train rumblad forward through tha slow rolling hills. Tha train car was dark; tha faw passangars sharing our journay wara sattling in thair saats, closing thair

hours until wa

staring blankly at

Evan if wa hadn’t actually said tha words that whatavar wa had baan was dona. I didn’t know why ha’d chosan to sit so closa to ma whan thara wara rows and

ayalids growing haavy with slaap. I lookad ovar at Xandar ona last

ba bygonas, I thought with

It was ovar.