Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 33: Loss of Privileges 

Maeve

It was full dark when I woke up, the room still and empty. Moonlight was drifting in through three circular windows on the wall above my head, long beams of pale light casting shadows across the room.

I rose and stretched; the superficial wounds on my skin were gone, and any soreness from the fall had been mended.

What now?

I didn’t know my way to the infirmary, but I wasn’t technically a prisoner. I decided to wander for a bit and try to find Cleo, maybe even something to eat

The ship was massive and easy to get lost in. The hallways were narrow, no wider than the average man’s shoulders in some spots. It was dimly lit too, but I noticed electric lights along the ceiling that were not in use. I wondered why they were using sails to move the ship instead of engines. The boat was silent, ghostlike, as it moved in the waves.

After an hour of exploration, I finally found the infirmary. It was situated toward the bottom of the ship, not quite the lowest level but close enough to feel chilly and claustrophobic. There were no windows down here, not a single one. I placed my hand on the wall as I made my way toward the entrance of the infirmary, knowing that on the other side of the wall was the sea.

The infirmary was just a room, a small one, lit by a single lantern. There was a small nook in one corner, separated by a curtain. I could hear the doctor snoring as I came into the light, smiling and nodding at Cleo, who had looked up from the book resting on her lap.

“How is she?” I asked, sitting down in a narrow, uncomfortable chair next to her.

“Fine, I think. The doctor thinks it was a concussion, a bad one, probably. But he stitched her up, and she seems to be comfortable, at least. We won’t really know until she wakes up. My midwifery skills only go so far.”

“I’m sorry, Cleo. I tried—”

Cleo took my hands in hers, brushing her knuckles against my fingers. “Don’t fret, Maeve. This wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was my fault, wasn’t it? If what Troy said about Alpha Damian is true?”

“No, darling. Please don’t think that way. All of this was out of your control.”

I sighed, leaning back against the chair and resting my head against the wall. We sat in silence for a long while, Cleo eventually falling asleep sitting upright in her chair. I watched Myla breathe, her chest rising and falling in a smooth rhythm.

I thought about opening up my skin again and giving her my blood, but stopped myself. What good had it done before? Troy was an absolute mess before Cleo had been able to align his broken bones and pop his shoulder back in place. I had just been able to ease his pain temporarily, I think

I stood, closing the door of the infirmary behind me as I walked into the narrow, chilly hallway, feeling along the walls until I reached the stairwell. I walked up, and up, and up until I reached the floor where my room was, Troy’s room, but I stopped before turning the corner to go back. Up the stairs was the entrance to the main deck, and I felt the urge to push open the doors and breathe in the air.

But I didn’t want to run into Troy, especially if he was alone. I didn’t trust myself around him. I wanted him as much as I had before I found out who he really was. But I also loathed him, fiercely, and I knew if given the opportunity I would toss him over the railing of the ship into the water below and like it.

But I didn’t have the strength to do that right now. I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I had slept for a few hours at the most. I was sick to my stomach with grief, with fear.

I wanted my parents. I wanted to go home.

“You thought you had it rough before, huh?” I whispered, thinking back on my time in the castle. Suddenly, a thought struck me, piercing through me so intensely that I nearly toppled over. I held onto the wall, bending over by the waist with one hand pressed against my stomach

Oh, Goddess. I could very likely be pregnant!

in Valoria. I was supposed to give the Drogomor pack an heir. I was supposed to be Luna, at

the heir to Drogomor, but Troy’s child. How

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real identity? I felt angry, my hands clenching as I leaned

clutched to his chest, walking out into the field of grass. His dream of losing his mate had come to fruition. My anger at them didn’t matter. Gemma was dead. Ernest was likely dead as

“Are you alright, miss?”

standing in the hallway

“Yes, 1-”

A little seasick?

nodded, although it

soon enough. Happens to the best of us!” He tilted his head toward the stairwell. “The galley’s just downstairs. I – can show you, get you some crackers

stomach tightening at

with me,” he said as I followed him down the stairs. He turned his face to me, smiling. “I’m Pete, by the way.

Young Pete and not just

already, but he doesn’t like being called that. He goes by Peter, actually. But it

smiled up at me as I descended the stairs, then motioned for me to follow him through a darkened archway that opened up to a large room with wooden tables and chairs in neat rows, illuminated by the light of

he breathed as we crossed the room and entered the kitchen. “I lost my privileges, you could

“Privileges?”

some salt pork in the pantry and ate it, and it was delicious. In my defense I didn’t

on the counter as he rummaged, wondering if I should start asking him the

want some

stopped myself before I said anything I didn’t mean

at least. Here,” He handed me a large glass jug, the amber

I asked, holding the heavy jug up to the

want something stronger. We don’t have much time in the galley during the day. You’ll find these all over the decks, though. Justuh, tie a ribbon on the handle or something, that way you know which

counter as he continued to rifle through the pantry. He handed me a

make the sea sickness worse. Just a few bites at a time,

entire roast with all the fixings right now, by myself. A few crackers and a dried apricot weren’t nearly enough. But

headed?” I asked as he

know. Have to wait for this all to

destination?” Panic rose in my throat, but I swallowed it

curiously, then shrugged again, leaning against the counter. “Do you have somewhere you

“Home, ideally.”

home

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33: Loss of

paused, pursing my lips. Maybe