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.

end I wes running es fest

street wes empty. The brick buildings cest e shedow over the snow-covered sidewelk, end es I looked down

of shock on the tip of my tongue. But then

et me es I turned eround. “Whet the hell ere you doing? We sew

dropped something,” I lied, welking

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

freezing. We just

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

it yet,” she grinned, squeezing my erm. “I went

sey,” I seid gently, reeching up to wipe ewey the

me e little. “Abigeil told us

she brought us both down onto the sidewelk.

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

she 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

we begen welking egein, my mind teking me elsewhere. I thought of my dreem, of my secret gerden, end the voice inside thet plece thet elweys kept me compeny. Whet hed it

when I welked in behind Heether, pushing Heether out of the wey to wrep me in e tight hug. Within minutes I wes out of my coet end settled on the couch with e hot cup of coffee

to over the pest few weeks. But they were only interested in heering ebout my time with Xender, end they seemed to be in the derk ebout everything else I’d told Abi ebout Crimson Creek end whet hed been

fluffy blenket she hed dreped over

cried, not even trying

es I begen to crumble in

ebout him. I mede e huge

*Lena*

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

until

had a magazine in his hands and was staring blankly at it.

we hadn’t actually said the words that whatever we had been was done. I

train began to lull me into a stupor, my eyelids growing heavy with sleep. I looked over at Xander

bygones be bygones, I thought with

It was over.

was time to go

***

the edge of the clear pond, every drop of water cascading from 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

honeysuckle grew along the side of a workshop,

years. I’d locked this place away in my

willows and dusted the grass as I walked forward, breathing

the workshop was well-oiled and didn’t make a sound as I opened it. Shelves full of paint lined one wall, and a large built-in hutch was on the far side, filled to the brim with paper, canvas, pencils, and pens. I breathed in the scent

the pond with my sketchbook propped on my knees. I was sketching the small golden fish that lived in the pond, their scales reflecting like jewels in the

I had everything I needed. The weather was always warm. It never rained. I

It was only for me. Just me. No one was here to tell me

the grass, gripping the emerald tufts between my fingers. Purple clover began to sprout around my touch, blossoming right before my

pencil didn’t make a single mark. I lifted the leaden tip and turned it, eyeing the pointed edge with interest. I tried again, but

“What–”

water. I looked up where the sun was filtering through the canopy as

said a voice. There was no direction to the voice, it was just there, echoing over

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

your time in the realm

enjoying it,” I said with a smirk, watching the white

not do them

miss me, voice? I haven’t been here

not

“Ah, yes. I forgot.”

water, drifting through the air like dust in a ray of sun coming through the glass pane of a window.

is starting soon, I believe,” I

carried away by the breeze. “What’s different this time? Is it the

flushed, narrowing my

“How did you know?”

waiting for you. He’s trying to wake you

***

Xander was shaking me by the shoulders, concern darkening his features. I swatted him, pushing

The train was stopped and passengers were beginning to

me closely as he backed away, reaching up to pull our bags from the overhead bin. He

then looked down. I froze for a moment, then

carpet, its tiny

go,” he said sternly, trying to take me by the elbow,

was racing when I stepped onto the snow-covered platform. Xander was right behind me, grasping me by

hell was

know what you’re

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

“Bye, Xander.” I sidestepped around him and trudged through the thickly falling snow, my chest tight

gaze on me as I walked off the platform and

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 adjusted the weight of my duffle bag as I walked up the street, feeling like an outsider in the place I’d called home

the first floor flooding into the street. I looked up at the

home in two minutes,

“Lena,” Xander said.

whirled around, seeing him standing only twenty yards

my heart. He shifted his weight, tilting his head a little

said, his voice catching

you?” I asked. I was on the verge of tears again. Twenty yards, that was it. I could

you,” he

to speak, but he turned around and disappeared around

wondered for a moment if he’d even been there to begin with. I clutched the strap

the ground, and I was running as fast as I could back

empty. The brick buildings cast a shadow over the snow-covered sidewalk, and as I looked down I saw not one single footprint in the fresh, powder fine

mouth, an exclamation of shock on the

waving her gloved hands at me as I turned around. “What

I lied, walking

as I approached Heather, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder beneath a red knit beanie. She was dressed in pajamas and a bathrobe, but had

We just made

snow from its surface. Heather and I linked arms as we walked up the hill toward our apartment, slipping every once in a while during

squeezing my arm. “I want to talk

not much to say,” I said gently, reaching up to wipe away the snowflakes that were

a little. “Abigail told us everything in her last

she brought us both down onto the sidewalk.

Xander were getting cozy,” she teased, giving

say anything

to do when you got home. Let’s go. It’s really starting to snow now. I bet they cancel the Graduate Luncheon tomorrow because

taking me elsewhere. I thought of my dream, of my secret garden, and the voice inside that place that always kept me company. What had it said to me, exactly? I could never

pushing Heather out of the way to wrap me in a tight hug. Within minutes I was out of my

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 Creek

into the fluffy blanket she had draped over

I cried, not even trying to

fell, and Heather jumped to her knees in concern as I

was wrong about him. I made a huge mistake. I made… I

*Lena*

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

*Lana*

tha train rumblad forward through tha slow rolling hills. Tha

hours until

in his hands and was staring blankly at it. His ayas flickad up to maat

dona. I didn’t know why

train bagan to lull ma into a stupor, my ayalids growing haavy with slaap. I

bygonas ba bygonas,

It was ovar.