Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Chapter 44 : Dressed for Him

*Lena*

“Abigail won’t mind, not one bit,” Heather grinned as she pulled a studded leather jacket from Abigail’s closet. She turned it around, holding the hanger as she ran her fingers over the leather. “You know how she is, always wanting us all to dress a certain way for these tilings.”

Heather wasn’t wrong. We’d been calling Abigail our pageant mom for years now, but tonight just didn’t feel the same without her.

I glanced in the mirror in the tight bedroom Viv and Abigail shared, fluffing my hair. Heather had curled and styled it to fall over my shoulders in beachy waves, which highlighted the angles of my face beautifully.

Hair, check. Makeup? It would do. I wasn’t used to seeing myself with dark plum lipstick and heavy, vampy eyes, but the liner Heather had chosen did bring out the flakes of blue that speckled my gray irises.

It was my outfit that felt off, despite Heather’s and Viv’s attempts to loosen me up with a glass of wine. The dress was a deep midnight blue, tight around the waist and chest and then hung loosely over my hips. It wasn’t incredibly short, but there was a slit up one side that went nearly to my hip bone. Underwear was impossible, but that was the whole point, at least that’s what Abigail had told me the day she bought it, roughly two years ago.

We’d been browsing through one of the upscale thrift shops in downtown Morhan one sunny, spring Saturday during our sophomore year. She turned toward me, two dresses in her hands, holding them up for me to see.

“What do you think men see when they look at dresses like these?” she’d asked. The other dress was a pale pink bodycon style that seemed grossly out of fashion, and I shrugged. She held up the pink dress, playfully tilting her head toward it. “This one screams “Date Me,” and maybe, “Take me home to meet your parents-”

“I’d be mortified meeting someone’s parents in that!” I’d laughed, shaking my head as I flipped through a rack of sweaters.

“But this one,” she said longingly, running her fingers over the silken blue fabric of the second dress, her finger’s toying with tire upper thigh-high slit. She paused, her eyes flicking to mine. “Men are thinking of only one thing when they look at our outfits.

Did you know that? Normally they don’t even notice what we’re wearing. Ask any man what you wore yesterday and he won’t have a clue.”

“Your point?” I laughed, folding a sweater over my arm.

“This dress is a “’f**k me’ dress. Do you know why?”

“No, why?”

“Because when a man sees you in something like this,” she held it to her chest, doing a little twirl, “the only thing he’s thinking about is how easily he can get it off of you.”

Her- voice played through my mind as I looked in the mirror in her bedroom, two years later, wearing the very dress I’d teased her about. It was fitting for the situation, although I refused to admit it out loud. I wasn’t dressing for myself. Knee-high black leather boots, the dress, and an acid-wash denim jacket were a far cry from the leggings and button-up denim shirts I gravitated towards on a daily basis.

dressing

glancing away from my reflection while Heather and Viv chatted as they readied themselves for our walk to the warehouse. It was only two blocks, but we’d likely be frozen solid by the time we reached the

kill, and thick parkas would ruin the vibe, according to Heather. There was bound to be underclassmen at the party, and we were seniors—not only that, but graduates. We were ready to kick ass and take on the

delicious,” Heather teased as I followed her

room and change into sweatpants. It was too late to back out now, anyway. I needed to do this. I needed to see Xander. If he wasn’t at the party, well, I’d sneak home and wallow in my own self-pity within the next

as we left our apartment building and walked out onto the snowy street. The cold hit me like a freight train, and I wrapped my denim jacket tightly around my

by the time we reached the street comer and turned to walk down the street toward the warehouse. “I bet she’s

you think it’s Prince Charlie? He is so

deserve him, but he doesn’t seem like the wild type. Abigail needs wild. I was thinking Prince Oliver is more her type.” Heather glanced back at me. eyeing

me

after a moment of consideration, “I think you’re right about Oliver

know?” Viv teased. “You always avoid

mouth, smiling softly to myself. No, not

street as we approached, and we were immediately met by a rush of warm air as we finally gained entrance to

hung from the ceiling, and tables with

grinned, leaning in to talk into my ear so I could

a swelling crowd beneath the twinkling lights, and people were already dancing to the thrumming music that sent little shockwaves across the concrete floor. I swallowed back my nervousness, then followed Heather and Viv as they walked through the crowd toward the bar that had been set up on the other- side of the

star-like lights. “Congratulations Winter Graduates” it read, and I felt the lump in my throat loosen. I didn’t have a reason to feel out of place. I’d be leaving in two days. This was my last real college experience. As Heather handed me a can of hard seltzer, I decided to make the

***

ago. The amount of people stuffed into the warehouse seemed impossible, but I’d given up on trying to count heads and doing the math. I danced a bit, then broke away from the fray for some fresh air, grabbing another drink before heading out the back door

the inside of the warehouse. Propane heaters lined the dock, and a few small groups were milling about, their breath coming out in puffs of mist as they spoke. I walked to the railing overlooking the river below,

you’re Lena,

head to the voice, coming face to face with Adrian, one of the

said,

railing, looking over my face with marked curiosity before giving me a soft smile. “Xander’s kinda a prick sometimes, but he’s

turned to

he send you here to talk

pissed that I am. I just felt like the two of you needed a third party to help untangle this, uh, situation.” He waved his wave in a circle,

I ground out, giving him