Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 127 : You’re Not Coming Back

*Lena*

Xander set the food down on a makeshift desk in the corner of his tent. He broke a load of crusty, golden bread in

half, handing one half to me as I lingered in the tent's entrance, taking it all in.

He had his own tent as an Alpha. It was roughly the size of the cottage we'd stayed in during our time in Crimson

Creek, and just as sparsely furnished. There was only a cot to sleep on, a desk made of crates and pallet board, and

a stool, which I noticed was broken as if someone had manhandled it and then tried to put it back together.

I took a bite of the bread, which was freshly baked and still warm. I wasn't particularly hungry, but Xander looked as

though he hadn't eaten in days. He tilted a bowl of soup into his mouth, drinking it down without bothering to use a

spoon, and placed the empty bowl on the desk. He'd eaten the bread while I was looking around, and now he was

just standing there, staring at me like I'd disappear again if he blinked.

“I swear I'm really here," I said with a soft laugh. His eyes glimmered for a moment before he looked down at the

ground, shaking his head.

I sat on the cot, shifting my weight. It was hard, and I wondered if sleeping on the floor would be more comfortable.

I looked down at the floor, which was covered in dried mud and soot–maybe not.

But then something caught my eye, something shiny that was reflecting the evening sunlight coming through the

tent flap. I peered down at it and froze, noting three empty whiskey bottles tucked beneath the cot.

I met Xander's gaze, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes. He was no longer the young man who'd once been

known as the King of Morhan University, no longer that guy wearing sweatpants and a black windbreaker who'd put

himself between me and Slate that fateful, unassuming day, when the course of my life had changed forever.

His hair was longer now, the black curls nearly touching his shoulders. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt and

were cut to a fine finish, his forearms snaking with veins as he leaned back and gripped the edge of the desk,

watching me.

His jaw was covered in a scruffy but short beard, like he hadn't shaved in a while.

He looked… lived in, like he'd seen it all, and then some.

But his eyes were the same, still nearly black and flaked with amber.

Xander, my… my Xander, my mate.

And I knew that he was my mate. I knew without a doubt that we were fated. I felt that bond stronger than ever, a

product of the spell that had given me my wolf powers early. It was always him, and would always be him.

“How are you?" he asked.

I blinked up at him, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He knew it was a silly question, but what do you ask

someone who'd practically risen from the dead?

“I'm fine," I replied, my smile weakening as I noticed the scars running up the lengths of his arms. I thought of the

empty bottles of liquor beneath his bed and felt a crack form across my heart. I couldn't ask how he was, because I

already knew.

He wasn't fine. It could be months, or even years, before he could honestly say he was fine again.

“Carly Maddox is alive." It was all I could think to say. Xander only nodded, turning away from me as he ran his

fingers over a stack of papers on his desk.

“I know. Word was sent to her mother in Valoria. She's seeking asylum there–"

“Carly had a baby a few hours before I came–before I came back," I breathed, and he turned around, looking

surprised. “Her… uhm, the father of her son–they are in love. The baby wasn't–"

“Wasn't the king's?"

“No," I said, and his eyes softened.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, sighing deeply as he leaned on the desk again, crossing his arms over his

chest.

“Her father died in battle," he said, grief flashing behind his eyes.

He looked at my belly. I'd unknowingly placed my palms against it, the child within moving against my touch. I felt a

sting of guilt ripple through my heart as I thought of Carly's father, then my own.

Carly's parents had waited for years for news of their daughter's whereabouts, dead or alive. Her father had been

alive within days of her arrival back in our realm. They'd just missed each other, and now Carly had a son, their

grandchild, a child who would never know his grandfather.

“Your dad sent dozens of search parties looking for you," Xander said in a whisper, his eyes downcast. “Troy was

the one who put an end to it."

“I'll find Troy later. I'll–I'll get in contact with my parents somehow, tonight. I just need a minute–" I swallowed

against the pain twisting my stomach into a knot. I imagined my father out in those hills outside of Crimson Creek,

his face shadowed by desperation, fear, and an indescribable grief.

When I opened my mouth to speak again, the words didn't stop flowing. I told Xander everything–about the

spellbook, how I'd been given my powers to shift early, how Maeve and I had come to Breles, how Oliver and I had

come looking for him. I told him about the Night God and the temple, what I'd seen within that altar and how I'd

come back.

The sun was setting by the time I'd finished. Xander was still on the other side of the tent, and I was drowning in the

distance between us. It had been weeks since we'd had a moment alone together, months since we'd had any

peace. I missed him. I missed him desperately, and he was standing barely five feet away.

A horn sounded in the distance, and Xander slowly turned his head to the tent flap.

“That's curfew for the warriors who aren't on patrols tonight," he said, more to himself than to me. “I… Lena, I have

to leave in the morning. I'm going back to Egoren."

“I–" Whatever I planned to say next fizzled out on the tip of my tongue.

Xander uncrossed his arms and straightened to his full height.

“I'm not leaving you behind. I'll come back for you. I promised I'd be back before our baby is born, and I mean to

keep that promise."

“I know," I whispered, but the words felt hollow. We had made each other so many promises, and had come so

close to never having the opportunity to stay true to them, countless times.

“I need to speak to Adrian," he said, taking a few steps toward me before he halted, heaving a chest-rattling

breath. I saw pain flicker across his eyes, physical pain. My eyes once again raked over his scars, which were still

reddened and barely healed. He was hurting; I could see it in his eyes. “I'll be back soon, okay? I'll grab some more

food–"

“I'm fine, really," I said quickly, giving him a weak smile as I sat on the edge of the cot.

Alma had fed me until I felt like I would burst, and she'd sent me and Gideon to Breles with a basket of food I could

barely finish by the time we reached what was left of the once great city.

The highway was barely passable. We'd drive through Morhan instead, around the massive lake that separated the

two cities. Morhan was deserted, and it was obvious that battles had taken place there as well. The brick buildings I

knew so well were empty, blackened shells and broken glass covered every street.

Xander gave me a once over, one hand gripping the tent flap as if he was reluctant to leave. I was tired, and lines

of fatigue were evident on my face, I knew that much.

“I'll tell Troy you're here and resting," he said softly. “He can… I'll tell him to find you in the morning."

I felt a weight settle on my shoulder as I met his eyes. What had felt like only minutes to me had been two

excruciating weeks for him, in the middle of a war zone, no less. The distance between us now was… I couldn't

explain it. Something was fractured.

He tilted his head toward the bottles beneath the cot, a flash of guilt shimmering behind his eyes.

“I've been having trouble sleeping," he said.

I only nodded. I didn't blame him, not a bit.

***

I woke to the sound of the tent flap falling back into place. A soft glow from a lantern touched my eyes, and I

opened them to find Xander moving across the tent. He set something down on the desk, turning to me with his

lantern in his hand as I struggled to sit up on the cot. My back screamed in protest, the thin bedroll that had been

laid over the cot not nearly enough to make it comfortable.

“Go back to sleep–"

“I was awake," I grumbled, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I heard Xander exhale, and the lantern light faded as he

turned his back to me.

I noticed the duffle bag that was now on the floor. It hadn't been there before, and I wondered if he'd been in and

out of the tent during the evening while I was asleep. Clothes had been tossed inside without being folded, thrown

haphazardly and spilling over the opening of the bag.

“What time is it?" I asked, stretching my arms over my head. My back popped, and I sighed as the feeling spread

across my middle.

“Around one in the morning, I think," he said in a hoarse whisper. He shuffled some paperwork around on the desk

before turning back to me, leaving the lantern on the desk.

“Are you not going to sleep?"

“I don't think there's room for two," he smiled, and that made, no matter how small and fleeting, warmth ripple

through my chest.

“We've shared worse places to sleep," I said softly, not daring to break eye contact.

He was still standing so far away from me, still out of reach. He was still looking at me like the second he touched

me again, I would disappear.

“You're not wrong about that," he whispered. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, then began walking

toward the entrance of the tent. He looked outside for a moment before closing the flap entirely, buttoning it shut.

We had four hours until his ship to Egoren left the port. For whatever reason, I felt like four hours was all we would

have together for a long time.

Maybe even forever.

“You're not coming back, are you?" I asked, but I felt as though I already knew the answer.