All Chapters of The Alpha King's Breeder: Chapter 441 - Chapter 450

SydneyGuests are arriving–extended family I haven’t seen in years–when I meet back up with Ryan and Sarah on the second floor landing. I wave down to my great uncle Ben and his mate, Emery, the long-standing Alpha of Obsidian temple. Some of my grandma’s other siblings are here, too, bringing their mates, children, and grandchildren along. I realize why Mom insisted on setting up several long tables in the ballroom. There’s at least fifty people here.This isn’t going to be a typical family gathering. Not at all. And now, looking at my mate, who has gone so pale I’m wondering if she’s about to faint and fall down the stairs, I’m rethinking our means of sharing our news. I hold her steady as we linger at the top of the steps with Ryan.I missed whatever meeting Dad and Ryatt were having. I walked in right as they were preparing to go down to dinner. I formally pulled myself off the Sasha investigation, obviously, so I’m technically no longer included in these talks. Still, as an Alp

SarahSydney pulls a large book from a shelf in the massive, stately library. I leap back, muffling a shocked yelp with my hands covering my mouth as a trap door swings open, revealing a spiral staircase. “Come on,” he says jovially, excitement blooming behind his eyes. “Where are you taking me?” I let him take my hand and tug me into the cramped secret stairwell. He pulls a lever on the wall, and the door swings shut again in near silence. “My mom had this built for my dad when I was nine, for their wedding anniversary. It took nearly a decade to complete.”I follow him up the stairs. Up so high, my thighs are burning and my breath comes in rapid puffs. “Is this one of the towers?”“It is,” he says like this is nothing but a walk in the park. At the top of the stairs, he pushes open an old, wooden door, something I’m sure is original to the castle, and we’re met by total darkness. I follow his echoing footsteps, but I can’t see a damn thing in here. “Sydney?”A loud cranking soun

Sydney Blake babbles the entire late evening drive to Silverhide. He likes rock music, especially when it’s loud enough to send a tremor through the truck, and squeals with delight everytime I go over a bump or a corner too sharply. Sarah would kill me if she knew how loud the music was or how reckless I’m driving, but Blake notoriously hates his carseat, and he’s having the time of his life right now.I can’t lie. I really enjoy having a kid, especially a son. Lately, when my thoughts aren’t on his mother, I imagine what kind of life we’ll have together. What kind of sports he’ll want to play, whether he’ll go to Wellington to pursue academics or warrior training. I wonder whether he’ll continue to look like me or grow to resemble his mom. I wonder what our next baby will be like, especially since we’re not trying to stop that from happening. The idea of Sarah pregnant

Sarah“Where is he?” I pace around the kitchen table toward where James is sewing Cosette back together while Dalia sits at her side, her face colorless and eyes wide with shock. “Ryan, where is Sydney?”“I don’t know,” Ryan growls. He’s wearing one of Sydney’s T-shirts which is too small for him. It’s already ripping at the seams as Ryan takes a swig from the bottle of fine scotch I dug out of the bar in the dining room. Ryan is as drunk as a wolf shifter can be right now. His eyes are unfocused as he blankly watches James put another perfect stitch in Cosette’s side. She doesn’t even flinch as she stares at the ceiling. Her eyes are dry, and her expression is vengeful. “You told me he went after Gabriel. You need to take me to that den, right now!”“You’re not going anywhere, not until Evander–”“Where is my mate?” I grab his arm, shaking him violently. It’s been over an hour since… since Hadley died. My poison-addled brain is still trying to wrap itself around the cold, hard trut

Sarah I pull the crank that opens the ceiling in the tower, watching as the night sky comes into startling clarity. The stars are faint overhead, shielded by a layer of thin mist that moves across the sky like wisps of smoke. The moon, however, is full and painted a pale blue. It’s stunning, and even through the haze of poison still in my system, I can feel its pull. The voices that usually come from the orrery are silent as I move toward it, taking note of its gears and spiraling tangles of sleek steel and brass. The planets in our solar system circle around the moon in this version of the heavens instead of the sun like a direct line to the Goddess, and as I approach, my heart in my throat, the moonlight reaches the flat surface at the base of the orrery and sets the entire alight in dancing shadows. My heart rate quickens as the voices start up, whispering through the room like the mist hanging below the stars. &ld