Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 7 : Another Beautiful Man

♦Xander*

I'm not sure what I saw looking in our window. Every single hair on my arms was standing on end as I stood on the porch, squinting into the pitch-black night. A soft breeze was rustling the grain in the distance. It was overcast. The entire area was bathed in nothing but blackness.

I'd seen eyes. I knew that much. And they had been looking past me, trying to catch a glimpse of Lena.

I leaned on the railing, gripping it so tightly the muscles of my arms flexed with tension. I looked down the pathway toward the bunkhouse, narrowing my eyes at the single light that was on inside.

Had some creep snuck out of the bunkhouse and peered into our window, not expecting me to be awake?

I hardly ever slept. Not deeply, at least. I'd spent the last four hours listening to Lena's labored breathing as she suffocated herself in her sleeping bag. I'd finally reached over and unzipped it, just enough for the skin of her neck to be exposed to the cool air in the room.

And when I'd turned back around, I'd seen it. Two eyes looking right at US through the window. Had they been glowing? Or was it only the fact I'd been on the edge of sleep that made them look that way?

I looked back over the open field once more, glaring into the night.

"She's mine," I whispered, hoping whatever or whoever it was that was lingering nearby was close enough to hear me.

I locked the door on my way in and opened every cabinet, looking for something to cover the window with. I found a hammer, but no nails or tacks. That didn't matter to me. I searched around the room and settled on the wobbly side table next to the armchair and broke one of the legs off of it, pulling out two nails and closing them in my fist.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lena was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, now dressed in an oversized tee shirt. Her legs and feet were bare, which sent a thrill through me as I rose to my full height.

"I told you, you were going to get too hot."

She ignored me, crossing her hands over her chest and stepping out of my way as I sidestepped around her to get back into the bedroom.

“Why did you break that table?"

"I needed nails."

"For what? Why were you outside?"

"It’s the middle of the night, Lena. Stop asking me so many questions," I murmured, holding the nails between my teeth as I measured the width of the window with my hands. I looked around the room, settling my gaze on the pillow I'd been using only minutes before. "Hand me that pillowcase."

"Why?"

"We need a curtain. Just do it."

She gave me a skeptical look, but to my surprise she followed my directions, sliding the pillowcase off the thin, useless pillow and handing it to me. I held it against the wall and drove one of the nails through it, and then again on the other side of the window, so the pillowcase covered the window entirely.

"Why couldn't you have just asked for curtains in the morning?"

it would be best to sleep with it, or at least have it

“Fine," she whispered.

the exhaustion in her voice. I waited for her to climb back into her sleeping bag before I sat on the edge of my bed myself, sliding

there?" she asked, her voice timid enough for me to turn to look

"Why? Are you scared?"

with me,

her shoulder. She flinched away from me,

laid back down, sighing deeply with my hands resting on my chest. I couldn't find the

lay there and rest, taking long, slow breaths, and still feel well tomorrow. I could nap, perhaps, knowing Lena would be in the company of others. Unless, of course, whoever had been peering in our window had been

to sleep, and the last thing I envisioned were Lena's pale gray eyes narrowing

like the feeling it gave me, like I was being watched, preyed upon by

she liked it or not... whether she liked me, or

***

♦Lena*

of the other people working at Radcliffe farm over breakfast in the bunkhouse, which was a small square shaped building with two long bedrooms housing

and sitting area with several bookshelves stocked with books from nearly every genre available. I found that comforting as I sat in the dining room, picking at

eyeing everyone suspiciously. He looked rather menacing as I peered at him over the rim of my coffee mug. I raised my brow at

last night, but he was still acting super weird. But I didn' t know him that well, so maybe this wasn't weird for him. Maybe

Bethany said, which was met with collaborated murmuring. An unfamiliar woman stepped forward, her soft brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail as she began to gather the dishes.

my eyes, setting my coffee cup down and turning toward the door, where

to go see what we're dealing with?" she said, holding the door open for me

of grain, most of which had gone to seed. We were heading toward the section of the farm that was in the southwest corner of the property, where

the patches of herbs as we crested a shallow hill, their perky green leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. But I saw something else, something that I'd never seen

we walked down the hill.

"We don't know."

couldn't tell by how far we were from the spots that dappled the landscape outside of the

about it than I can," she answered, shrugging

coming through the speaker. She motioned me forward, pointing to the old man who was crouched

my shoulder as I approached Henry, noticing the look of concern on her face as she turned from US and began to walk back up the hill. I looked to the left, seeing the manor in the distance, but from a new angle. It was even bigger than

his back still turned to me. I stopped walking, standing ten or so yards away from him. "The house, I mean. It's falling

me up and down, narrowing his eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek as I

giving him

to stare at me, then arched his brow, shaking his head as he turned back to the herbs. "Sure you are," he said. I pursed my lips and walked forward, gingerly stepping between the herbs as I made my way closer to Henry. He had a basket next to him filled with several bushels of sage and a few large

will be, officially, when I graduate in

in response.

said you were having issues with the

opened my mouth to respond, but he stood, handing me his basket and pointing to the valerian roots. "They’re supposed to look like that,” he said, then opened his palm, showing me the valerian roots

seeing the spindly roots blackened and withered. I looked up at

he breathed, shaking his