All Chapters of The Alpha King's Breeder: Chapter 451 - Chapter 460

Sarah Warm, golden sunlight beats down on my skin. I blink into it, squinting against the onslaught of differing colors and the sense that I’m somewhere totally and completely unfamiliar. I’m in a bed, that’s obvious. The sheets beneath me are soft as butter and smell like roses with a faint hint of pine. A delicate lace canopy hangs from the posters of the bed, drifting in a warm spring breeze. The light–golden with hues of magenta and violet–drifts over a domed ceiling and reflects rainbows on the intricate floral wallpaper hugging the room, which is….I sit bolt upright and hug a thick, satin duvet to my chest. Where the fuck am I?Several windows line the far wall, the view on the other side of the glass obstructed by multicolored stained glass. I turn my head slowly toward a strange object on the bedside table. It’s no bigger than my forearm, and a pale circle of light floats over its pointed tip. Slo

Sarah I spend an hour submerged in the bathtub up to my chin. Sydney isn’t in the bedroom when I finally emerge, wrapped in nothing but a robe. I curl up in bed on top of the duvet and stare at the sunlight raining down through the glistening windows, my mind in shambles. I have to knit myself back together somehow. I was taken from this place as a child, given a new home, a new shot at life. I have that now. I have a son, a mate, and a family that loves me and wants to see me whole. I can’t go back to Crescent Falls carrying any burdens. I hear the door open and close softly. Sydney’s familiar footsteps brush across the carpet. He touches my hip, likely just to see if I’m asleep, but I turn to him. He looks exhausted. Broken and worn thin. I open my arms to him, and he falls onto the bed on top of me. “I think we’re going to be okay,” I whispe

Sarah 3 months later I clutch the steering wheel as I turn my car toward the private driveway leading to the castle. Blake claps his hands to the music humming through the speakers while Sydney, seated beside me, digs through his briefcase, mumbling under his breath. “What are you looking for?” I ask, glancing at him briefly. Summer is in full swing all around us, shading the road beneath the thick, deep green canopy of trees. “I had something drawn up for Cosette,” he murmurs. “From our estate. I think I might have left it at home.” He runs his fingers through his hair then down his face, murmuring a curse. “We might have to turn around.”“I’m sure you have it, whatever you’re looking for,” I laugh, and Blake squeals with delight as we drive over a bump then turn through the main gate. The front garden has been

Aviva The wind hasn’t yet swept last autumn’s leaves off the forest floor. Soft, pale green tufts of spring grass poke out in heaps as I crouch behind a large bramble bush, the earthy scent of the early blooms all around us momentarily stealing my senses. But only briefly. Ten year old Shosannah smells like adrenaline and the pancakes with blueberry syrup she had for breakfast as her soft red hair whips across my cheeks, her body rigid and bright green eyes focused on the sparse trees ahead of us. Lora, six, fidgets on my otherside. “Aviva,” she hisses, tugging on the sleeve of my tunic. “I have to pee!”“Shut up, Lora,” Shosh whispers, her arm flexed as she draws back her arrow, which looks massive against the child-sized bow I whittled for her as a Solstice gift. “Breath in,” I whisper against the rim of my little sister’s ear. She does, holding her br

Aviva The meeting hall is crowded from wall to wall. I hug one of the walls, my back pressed flat against it as I try to blend in with the dark stone. Everyone is merry as they walk between tables laden with food and drink. Everyone in attendance has worn their finest fabrics and beads. Many of the single, of age, young women have truly gone all out, in fact. I cross my arms under my less-than-ample breasts and tap my nails against the long gold chains looping around my neck, inlaid with multicolored beads of turquoise and amethyst. The necklace is one of the few things I have left of my mother except for Shosanna and Lora. Mercy didn’t want the necklace because turquoise is a stone rather than a gleaming gem, and amethyst “washes her out,” or so she says. In fact, she didn’t want much of mother’s things at all when she died six years ago, a few days after Lora came into the world. Her dresses were taken ap