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.”

away from me and exhaling as she settled her gaze back on the map in her lap. “About the map,” she said, running her fingers along the faded script. “There 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

missing from the altar is what Damian is after? I was barely paying attention, my eyes focusing solely

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39: An Educated

skin of the back of her neck as she leaned forward over the map. I reached out, touching her neck with my fingertips, watching as the fine, white hair rose against her skin. “Maeve,” I said softly, unable to stop myself,

as her glacier blue eyes settled on mine. “I know,” she said, her

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 was a warmth behind

face hovering just above her own.

I spoke, “and I

you,” she 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

wanted to for days. She opened her mouth to

her shirt up over her stomach, and touched her skin, my hand traveling up to cup her full breast. She sucked in her breath as I squeezed. I let go, rising to my knees over her and gripping her shirt, tearing it open to

squeaked; her mouth

you, you can get out

my weight was holding her down. I bent my head, kissing her on the neck as I ran my fingers up her arms that were still outstretched over her

her nipple between my teeth, biting gently as her back arched and she cried

“Am I hurting you?”

said, a little breathless, “No.

***

Maeve

even if I wanted to. Whatever he was doing with

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 my clit

my hips towards him as his fingers slipped inside of me, pushing me even closer to the edge. I opened my eyes as he

with my knee and he nearly fell off the edge of the bed, releasing his hold on me to grip the quilt in order to

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

my legs around him but he pushed them far apart, gripping

he bent down, kissing my stomach, then lower, and lower, until his mouth met the tender, aching place between my

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

exclaimed, “Where–where did you learn how to

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

answer that right

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

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

to be

flipped me over, so I was on top of him, straddling him

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An

to cover my breasts with my hands, but he grabbed my

hard, ready. 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 I liked? But he

I do now?” I whispered

a bit so I

fumbled between my legs, pulling his boxers down over

accident, my knee slipping over the side of the bed, but he caught me before I tumbled

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

enough to know exactly what he

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 only opened to slits as he looked