Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 44: Waves of Emotion

Maeve

The camp was nothing more than a few large canvas tents spread out across the beach above the tideline. I sat next to Cleo around a small fire, hugging my knees to my chest as we watched the skiffs dart around the Persephone in the high tide, looking for leaks.

“The ship is definitely floating.” Myla said as she approached our circle, handing out bowls of some kind of stew. I accepted a bowl, thanking her as I straightened my legs and rested the bowl on my thighs.

Cleo was looking out over the water, her gaze eventually shifting to the starry sky above us as we ate our soup in silence. “The stars are so clear,” she said, setting her bowl down in the sand, “It’s truly amazing. You can see everything.”

“No lights,” I said with a smile, following her gaze, “I don’t remember ever seeing the stars in Valoria, especially near Mirage. But back home

– swallowed against the lump in my throat, feeling incredibly homesick.

I was sick of the heat, honestly. I felt sticky and filthy all the time. I thought Valoria had been bad with its thick humidity, but this place was far worse.

It had been two days since I washed up on the beach. We didn’t have much to do but wait, and watch, as the crew of the Persephone tried to mend the boat. Olly had us fetch water all day long, insisting that he boil every bucket before using it for cooking, washing, and drinking. Meran had brought her goats and chickens on shore, letting them roam just within sight. The dog proved to be a great companion to have around. He spent his days watching over the chickens, alerting Meran if they began to stray too far into the brush.

“I think they’re close to finishing fixing whatever was wrong with at least one of the engines,” Myla said, stirring her soup, “That’s what Keaton told me, at least.”

“How are things going with you two?” I asked, smiling softly to myself as she blushed.

“Oh, it’s been great. Kind of a shock, of course.”

“I don’t know if shock is the best way of describing it,” Cleo laughed.

“Oh? Do you have a better word for waking up from a coma to finding your mate on a pirate ship, learning your house burned down, and your pack was taken over by a rival Alpha, then getting swept up in a hurricane and spending your first few nights with your mate sleeping in the sand?”

I laughed, shaking my head as I looked back over the water, watching as the two skiffs made their way back to the shore.

“You’ve hardly touched your soup, Maeve,” Cleo scolded. I shrugged, bringing my knees to my chest again.

*I’m not very hungry.”

Cleo gave me a motherly look of disapproval, then looked away, leaning into a conversation with Myla.

I let the night wrap around me, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the waves. I saw Troy jump off one of the boats, walking through the waves as he guided it up onto the sand. He was smiling.

had happened to him after he cut the skiff loose. He had been reluctant to talk about it at first,

under. He hadn’t seen me go into the water, or that I had missed the skiff by only a few feet. He had been tossed across the deck, crushed against the railing by the wave

another two hours before the storm passed over. Troy had managed to climb up the stairs to the helm where he gripped the steering wheel for dear life, trying to angle the boat over the waves in a way it wouldn’t tip the boat

willing to leave each other or the ship behind. He had gotten the women onto one of the skiffs. I thought you were with them. It wasn’t

hit the water. I tried to remember what had happened in the water, but it was though my memory had been wiped clean of the trauma. I told him about trekking through

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44: Waves

resting against

to me and breaking out of my musings. He had a bowl of soup in his hand, resting it on his knee

as the smoke blew in our direction, the sharp, salty smell of the burning driftwood making me feel

at the bowl sitting tepid in the sand. Troy arched his brow, looking from me to Cleo, and

think I should go to bed now,” I said, not likely the look that had passed between Troy and Cleo. A wave of fury washed over for no reason,

you

an apology under my breath before walking briskly up the beach to the row of tents that sat along the tree

eyes on me. I hated it. I just wanted to be alone all of a

slipped out of my shoes, a pair of leather sandals several sizes too large for me, and set them outside the tent, careful not to track sand onto the blanket. Supplies had been brought off the Persephone after the storm and carried on the skiffs to the beach camp: clothes and linen and food mostly. I felt much better after changing into a fresh shirt

for no reason at

flap, her voice soft and motherly like

sniffled, burying my

of the blanket, her hand hovering over my ankle for a moment before she touched me, gently, the weight of her hand a slight comfort as

I

you started your period

up at

honestly hadn’t thought about it at all since leaving the castle. It hadn’t crossed my mind once. I

that had passed, but

skin just below my ankle and sending a sudden rush of comfort and fatigue through me. Ah, pressure points. She was always doing that

Cleo was a midwife. She worked with the pregnant women in Old Town and even Mirage on a daily basis. At least, she had, before everything got

I said quickly, swallowing the anxiety budding in my

a soft smile on her face, “Premenstrual syndrome,

“What?”

at the fire, Maeve. Do you always snap at

“Yes, actually. I do.”