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?"

deciding it would be best to sleep with it, or at least have it nearby in case whoever was looking in our window decided to do anything they would

“Fine," she whispered.

bag before I sat on the edge of my bed myself, sliding the hammer under the bed

out there?" she asked, her voice timid enough for me to turn to look down at her, noticing the apprehension in her eyes. She

"Why? Are you scared?"

with me,

to pat her shoulder. She flinched

couldn't find the nerve to close them, not after what

just lay there and rest, taking long, slow breaths, and still feel well tomorrow. I could nap, perhaps, knowing Lena would be

my eyes open. I finally surrendered to sleep, and the last thing I envisioned were Lena's pale gray eyes

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

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

***

♦Lena*

of the other people working at Radcliffe farm over breakfast in the bunkhouse, which was a small square shaped

comforting as I sat in the dining room, picking at my plate of bacon and eggs while everyone else chatted amiably over mugs of coffee and plates heaped with

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

super weird. But I didn' t know him that well, so

get going. Who’s on the dishes today?" 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. I rose, drinking the last of my coffee, and caught her meeting Xander's gaze. He gave her a

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

dealing with?" she said, holding the door open for me as I stepped out

of which had gone to seed. We were heading toward the section of the farm that was in the

as we crested a shallow hill, their perky green leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. But I saw something else, something that

side of the fence?" I asked as we walked down the hill. Bethany

"We don't know."

I asked. I couldn't tell by how far we were from the spots that dappled the landscape outside of the property line. It could have been burn marks

than I can,"

on her hip, and it crackled with static, someone's voice coming through the speaker. She motioned me forward, pointing to the old

over 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

standing ten or so yards away from him. "The house, I mean. It's falling to pieces like the rest of ’em." Henry rose, wiping his hands off on his pants as he turned

down, narrowing his eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek as I tucked a lock of hair behind

giving him my

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

officially, when I graduate in

up at me, grunting in response.

said you were having

in, cutting me off. I opened my mouth to respond, but he stood, handing me his basket and pointing to the valerian roots. "They’re supposed

peered down into his hand, seeing the spindly roots blackened and withered. I looked up at him, thoroughly

not the soil," he