Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Troy

She was seated with her legs crossed in the bed, her hair piled in that messy bun she always wore. She had Romero’s map in her hands, pointing to one of the faded pictures on the margin. There was a look of sheer excitement in her eyes, something almost rabid and unrecognizable.

“A gem? I shrugged out of my old leather jacket, tossing it into the corner of the room as I bent to untie the laces of my boots.

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

I looked up, arching my brow, “What makes you think that?”

*This symbol, it’s repeated several times, see? I didn’t even notice it before but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it in the Temple of the White Queens in Winter Forest. It’s on the statue behind the altar. I used to run my fingers across it.”

“What’s its significance?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t really ever pay attention when my mom was praying.” she frowned, watching me with a careful eye. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Why do you all wear those, well, poofy shirts?”

“This? I looked down, spreading my arms wide so the loose, think fabric unfurled over my arms.

“Yeah. I mean, they’re so—50…”

“Old fashioned?” I laughed, reaching up to untie the strings that held the shirt closed over my chest. “They serve a purpose, actually.”

“And what purpose is that? To make sure you look the part while you’re playing pirate?”

glared at her, then pulled the shirt over my head, tossing it on the bed. She blushed, blinking like an innocent schoolgirl as she looked away from my bare chest.

“Say you get tangled in the rat tails while climbing up to mend the sails, or thrown overboard,” I said, enjoying the progression of the pinkness in her cheeks as I unbuttoned my pants. “Heavy fabric weighs you down in water, and a high neckline can choke you if you’re snagged on something at the right angle. You need something you can slip out of easily. I began to pull my pants over my thighs, slowing as I caught her gaze. She swallowed, looking away again and pretending to be invested in the paneling of the wall. “Plus, it’s hotter than Hell on the deck. The loose fit allows air to brush against your skin, keeping you cool.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, not daring to look at me. I loved this game.

*That’s why we wear these old-fashioned shirts. Not because we want to look like pirates, but because we already are pirates.”

She stopped, biting her lip. Obviously,

She looked at me then, smirking. “My dad would lose his mind if he knew I were sharing a bed with she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“We’re not technically sharing a bed, are we? I’ve been sleeping on the floor like a dog.”

“Because you are one,” she said pointedly, her chin lifted towards the ceiling.

“Anyway, about the map?”

She looked me up and down as I sat next to her in the bed, resting my head against the wall and stretching hugely, my inner arm grazing her shoulders.

“Are you going to put clothes on?” she asked, tilting her head towards my underwear, which was all I was wearing.

“Too humid, storms coming. Plus, you’re supposed to be leaving for work soon. I’ll be able to sleep naked in my bed if I want to.”

used to be something in the center of the statue of the altar in Winter Forest. I could feel where it had been, I don’t know, chipped away? There was a catch to the space, where the granite was sharp, and it shouldn’t have been. It was no bigger than the tip of

the altar is what Damian is after? I was barely paying

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39: An Educated

out, touching her neck with my fingertips, watching as the fine, white hair rose against her skin. “Maeve,” I said softly,

catching on her strawberry blonde brows as her glacier blue eyes settled on mine. “I know,” she

map drifting in the air for a moment before falling onto the edge of the bed and then sliding to the floor. She was looking up at me, startled, but there

just above her own. She was

brushing hers as I spoke, “and

replied, her eyes focused on mine. I had her pinned against the mattress by her wrists, her hands open, palms towards the ceiling. She bent her fingers, the tips of them grazing

to for days. She opened her mouth to mine,

up to cup her full breast. She sucked in her breath as I squeezed. I let

her mouth slightly ajar in

you can get out

down. I bent my head, kissing her on the neck as I ran my fingers up her arms that

I took her nipple between my teeth, biting gently

“Am I hurting you?”

said, a little

***

Maeve

limp. I couldn’t have moved, even if I wanted to. Whatever he was

straighten up and reach down to roughly pull my pants down over my thighs. His fingers slipped into my underwear, pulling them to the side. I exhaled as he touched me, his thumb pressing against

of me, pushing me even closer to the edge. I opened my eyes as he

he nearly fell off the edge of the bed, releasing his hold on me to grip the quilt

look of hunger flashed in his eyes, a challenge. He arched his

surprise, locking my legs around him but he pushed them far apart,

kissing my stomach, then lower, and lower, until his mouth met the tender, aching

reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, tangling it between my fingers as my hips arched to

“Where–where did you learn how to do

a laugh trembling through his chest. He rested his chin on my thigh, shaking

not going to answer that right now,

quietly, panting as he bit my inner thigh, the sensation sending a ripple of

again, running his hands over the curve of my hips and then my breasts, squeezing them until I cried out, throwing my head back

be late for

straddling him as he laid against the bed beneath me. I was suddenly self-conscious,

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39: An

breasts with my hands, but he grabbed my wrists, shaking

I could see the look of anticipation etched into his face. But I sat there, dumbly, unsure of what I was supposed to do next. What had Cleo said to me weeks ago? To tell him what

do now?” I

up a bit so I can

knees while he awkwardly fumbled between my legs, pulling his boxers down over

of my legs by accident, my knee slipping over the side of the bed, but he caught me before

furious blush creeping over my chest and cheeks. I hated not being good at something. I hated not being the best. But he was the only man I had ever had sex with, and we had only done that twice. Well, the first time hardly counted, in my opinion, so once. And Troy? How many times had he done this? Judging by what he was doing with

enough to know exactly what

beneath me, his cock pressing against the wet folds between my legs. I moved forward involuntarily, seeking my own pleasure without thinking about it. He moaned; his eyes