Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 52 : Truth Revealed

*Lena*

Oliver stopped short of us, his gaze moving slowly away from my face and settling on Abigail. I looked

between them, noticing the flex of Oliver's jaw and the way Abigail swallowed, her mouth twitching into

a nervous smile.

Normally, my boisterous, confident Abigail would have had him already wrapped around her finger,

deep in some conversation while she purred into his ear. But she was shockingly quiet, and her cheeks

had gone pink.

“Abigail, you said?" Oliver bowed his head lightly in greeting, which caused Abigail's hand to twitch as it

grazed my own. He met her eye, and the look they shared made me blush. I'd been right, I guessed.

Oliver was much more suited to her than Charlie would have been.

“Yes," she replied, her voice dripping with nothing but politeness. She began to curtsy to him, but he

held out a hand, touching her lightly on the elbow to stop her before she bent her knees.

“A friend of my cousin is a friend of mine," he grinned, which made Abigail blush even harder.

I rolled my eyes away from them and looked out over the crowd once more. People were milling about

in groups of varying sizes. There was no real itinerary for the night's activities. The only thing on the

menu was dancing, eating, and being merry. At least, that was according to my extremely stressed-out

Aunt Maeve.

My mother walked by our little group and gave me a smile, her eyes glancing at Oliver and Abigail. She

tilted her head toward them as she passed, and I shrugged one shoulder, her silent chuckle as she

turned away bringing a ripple of warmth across my chest.

Oliver laughed at something Abigail said, and it was a real laugh, not the good-natured chuckle of the

aristocrat that he'd been trained to be. I turned back to them, nothing the blush had faded from Abigail's

face and she seemed much more at ease now that the theoretical ice had been broken.

“You did the flower arrangements?" Oliver asked her, his eyes dancing with delight.

She grinned, nodding her head and giving him a little shrug of her shoulder. “I did."

“They're delightful," he replied, just as a man walked up behind him, drunkenly slapping him on the

shoulder.

“Oli, good to see ya, man. I did'na think you'd show up to this–uh–whatever this is," slurred the young

man. He smelled sharply of champagne, and his tuxedo was unbuttoned, his bowtie hanging limp

against his chest.

I recognized him as Rex, the son of a lesser Alpha who ruled over a young pack in the eastern tip of

Valoria. Rex looked Abigail up and down several times, his green gaze fixing itself firmly on her chest.

Oliver shrugged him off, and Rex staggered backward, then forward again, almost crashing into the

three of us as he tried to right himself.

“Must be weird for you, huh? At a party for your girl–" Rex swayed again, clasping the shoulder of an

unsuspecting waiter who happened to be walking by. “Oops, sorry–" he giggled.

Abigail raised her eyebrows, and Oliver began to seeth, his cheeks going ruddy as he took a step in

front of Abigail, shielding her as Rex let go and took one stumbling step forward.

He bumped into me, and I glared at him, but he only giggled like a schoolgirl as he reached up to poke

my hair.

“What an odd color. I've heard about you–"

“Go away!" I said with conviction, but Rex's eyes twinkled with mischief. I could see the heat beginning

to blaze behind Oliver's eyes as he glanced at me, then looked over his shoulder at Abigail. Oliver

loved a good fight. I thought it likely that he'd somehow get Rex out into the back gardens and beat him

to a pulp if he had the chance to do so without being seen.

“Who is that?" Rex purred, then hiccuped, pointing a finger at Abigail.

Oliver stepped to the side, his hands reaching behind him to move Abigail into his shadow.

“Ah, new girl, huh? What was it like losing your girlfriend to your brother? Look at this place–" Rex

waved his hand in a short circle, his eyes glossed over and red with drink. “This could've been for

you–"

“That's enough," Oliver said, his voice sounding so much like our grandfather's.

Abigail glanced at me, but I kept my gaze on Rex. People were starting to stare in our direction, drawn

by Rex's not-so-quiet ramblings.

“You're no fun," Rex hiccuped, turning and stumbling away, his body swaying violently to one side and

knocking into a woman standing nearby.

She dropped her drink and glass shattered across the floor, followed by loud exclamations for everyone

nearby. We watched as two warriors approached Rex, taking him by the arms and dragging him away.

Oliver looked around, his eyes narrowed on the crowd for a moment before he relaxed. He released his

grip on Abigail's hands. I hadn't even noticed he'd been holding them until he returned to his original

position in front of us.

“Sorry about that," he said with a wry smile toward Abigail, smoothing down his tuxedo.

“What a jerk. His father is going to be so embarrassed," I added, sipping from my champagne.

“His father isn't here. He's one of Will's friends," Oliver said, low in his throat.

I saw a flash of hurt wash over his face, but only for a moment.

“This must be awful for you," Abigail said softly. I could hear her voice wavering for a moment as she

said the words.

“I think I may have gotten off easy," he shrugged, settling his eyes on her face. “I mean, Rex wasn't

wrong. Look at this place. This wouldn't have been what I wanted. I know Will had little to do with this.

This is all Hollis." He paused, looking down at his feet for a moment before meeting my eye. “I don't

think I knew her as well as I thought."

I smiled at him, relief flooding through me. I'd been worried about what this week would be like for him.

I knew his self-deprecating jokes and overall playful demeanor were just a mask over what he was

really feeling.

The two of us had always been good at that.

Oliver turned to Abigail and asked her to dance. She happily agreed and looked over her shoulder at

me as he led her away, squealing internally and grinning as broadly as possible.

I thought back on that day in the cafe, the last day anything had felt even remotely normal. Abigail had

joked about dying her hair blonde to catch the attention of the princes.

But look at her now, twirling in Oliver's arms, I thought, smiling and crossing my arms over my chest as

I watched them.

“Who's that?" Dad asked behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, smiling as I turned back to Oliver and Abigail. “Abigail, my friend

from Morhan–one of my roommates."

“I haven't seen Oliver smile like that in a long time," he said softly, then he chuckled as he lifted his

glass of scotch to his lips before adding, “Your grandfather will be happy."

“Well, Oliver is his favorite, so that doesn't surprise me," I replied shortly, shaking my head. “When do

they get here, anyway?"

“Last I heard, sometime tomorrow," he replied. “Listen, your mother and I need to talk to you about

something–tomorrow, when your grandmother is here."

“About what?"

But Dad didn't reply. He turned, greeting another Alpha who had walked up to us, the two of them

exchanging niceties and then turning away from me completely.

They were going to be discussing what was next for me, that was certain. I'd probably be told I'd be

going to the Castle Drogomor to begin my duties as Princess, or worse, they were hoping to marry me

off to some son of an Alpha, hoping for an advantageous connection between our families.

I found the idea of being married off unlikely. Times were different now. Hollis had come from a wealthy,

high-ranking family in Poldesse, but she wasn't from a royal bloodline. Will was, essentially, marrying a

commoner.

I let my mind wander as I turned back to the dancers, wondering painfully what options I would have if

things had been different between Xander and me. He'd told me he would've made it work. I wondered

if that meant following me from throne to throne as my rule extended from not only Drogomor and

Winter Forest, but the entirety of Valoria.

I was the only child of the Alpha King.

I'd be the first Alpha Queen, if there was such a thing, in the entire history of the pack lands. That was,

of course, on top of being the White Queen in tandem.

No wonder everyone looked at me weird.

I decided to turn about the room again and stopped at one of the long tables that was filled to the brim

with all kinds of different foods. I picked up a bacon-wrapped date and plopped it into my mouth,

chewing meditatively as I looked back over the crowd.

The sun had set, and the ceiling-height windows reflected the golden light coming from the chandeliers.

People were milling about along the terrace behind me, all six doors open to the ballroom to let in the

tropical air.

I looked back at the dance floor and noticed that Abigail and Oliver were gone. I couldn't see them

anywhere as I scanned the faces of everyone in the room. Hopefully, they'd snuck off together, I

thought with a grin, but then I felt a little pinch along my breasts beneath my dress.

I reached up to touch the mark through the fabric. It burned, and the fabric was rubbing against it. It

hadn't hurt before.

“You okay?" Oliver said as he walked up beside me, his hair ruffled and face reddened from the

exertion of dancing with Abigail. She was beside him, looking just as ruffled, but her smile was

undeniable.

“I'm fine," I said, but it was a lie. My chest tightened as the mark began to throb, the pain of it sending a

rush of heat up my neck and into my cheeks.

There was a ripple of fresh conversation washing over the crowd. A commotion of sorts was taking

place near the entrance of the ballroom. Oliver turned his head, his brows raised as the crowd began to

part. I could see Aunt Maeve in the distance, turning her body to look at the entrance with a quizzical,

then surprised look etched across her face.

I held my hand to my chest, swallowing against the lump that was forming in my throat. My eternal

reminder of Xander hadn't troubled me at all until this moment, and now I was close to tears.

“Lena, what's wrong with you?" Oliver urged, his voice edged with concern as he closed the distance

between us.

But then the crowd seemed to part, and a man stepped forward, dressed in a tuxedo with a black and

crimson sash draped over one shoulder that was pinned with the emblems of the pack in which he

ruled.

I opened my mouth, but there were no words on the tip of my tongue to convey my shock and

confusion as the man walked closer.

I looked up into his dark eyes, the flakes of amber glistening in the chandelier light above our heads.

“Xander?"