Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 134 : I Hurt Her

*Maeve*

I followed Xander through the darkened corridors and down the stairs, my bare feet barely making a sound. Xander

was exceedingly tall, taller even than Troy. Even being the tallest out of all the women in my family, I was panting as

I tried to keep up with his long stride.

He had no idea where he was going, but I could tell he was trying to get out of the castle. He was going to shift; I

could feel it. He was going to run.

But I wasn't going to let him.

“Stop!" I hissed when he finally found the door to the back garden. He froze, his fingers wrapped around the

doorknob for the space of a breath before he pushed the door open and stormed out onto the back terrace. I

huffed a breath and tore after him, thankful for the cool breeze that fanned over the exposed skin beneath my

shorts. “Damnit, Xander. I said stop!"

He whirled around, baring his teeth at me. I could see tears glimmering in his eyes, which were nearly black in the

pale light spilling from the open door behind us.

“I hurt her," he spat, fury sharpening each word to a brutal edge.

“Yeah, you did. But I can tell you're hurting much more than she is right now," I said, trying to keep my voice level. I

could see a bruise forming along his jaw where I'd slapped him with my fingers curled into my palm. Blood still

coated his lips, and his eyes were wide with horror–horror, and raging, infectious guilt that damn near snapped my

heart in two. “You're not the only one going through this," I coaxed, still standing my ground. If he so much as

looked like his wolf was going to take over, I'd take him to the ground. I'd pin him to the Goddess-damned concrete

and force him to listen to me.

He was panting as well, his hands clenched into fists. He was trembling, but not from the cool breeze.

“Whatever you saw," I said, taking a cautious step forward, “it's gone now. It's over."

“Yet it replays over, and over again," he growled, “on a constant f*****g loop!"

“You need to talk to someone about what happened to you–"

“I can't," he snapped, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I don't want to think about it ever again–"

“Xander–" My voice broke around his name, especially as he hung his head and brought his hands to his face. I'd

seen that same look in Oliver and Charlie's eyes–pure, unadulterated grief. Terror. Fear, and confusion. Whenever I

looked at my sons, I saw them as they'd been when they were young, their eyes shining with excitement and

wonder. Xander had been a little boy once. He'd been loved, cherished. He likely had someone back home who was

crushed at the thought of him facing the violence we'd just defeated.

Those boys… these children… my children–they'd never be the same again.

“You're going to be alright," I said through a sob. Xander didn't look at me, his eyes downcast on the concrete.

“Everything is going to be alright."

“I could have killed her," he whispered.

I swallowed against the sob threatening to spill from my throat and nodded. “How often is this happening?"

“Every time I f*****g blink. I haven't slept in weeks."

I nodded again, chewing the inside of my lower lip as I took a few cautious steps towards him. I came up next to

him to lean against the terrace. He was looking toward the forest, his eyes wide open but totally unseeing. He was

still trapped inside his mind, likely replaying the nightmare, almost like he was punishing himself for it.

I didn't tell him that I was also having nightmares. I'd gotten to their bedroom so quickly because I was already

awake, panting in my sweat-soaked sheets while trying to get my heartbeat to regulate. I heard Lena scream his

name, and I knew exactly what was happening. I'd felt it in my blood as I raced toward their bedroom.

I wished with all of my heart that Troy was here right now. He would know what to say to him. Troy always knew

what to say.

“Troy's been having nightmares too. So has Charlie, and… and I assume Oliver is having them as well...." I couldn't

help the way my mouth pressed together and my eyes squeezed shut at the mention of Oliver. Tears spilled down

my cheeks as I tried to hold in a sob. I felt Xander's hand on my shoulder, then he pulled me into his chest, holding

me there while I came apart at the seams.

“I saw Oliver briefly," Xander whispered. “He was… he seemed like he was holding up alright."

I knew that wasn't true. I knew my son. I knew that what he'd done had shattered him completely, and I didn't know

how to make it better.

I pulled away from Xander, wiping my eyes as I turned back to the forest. I hadn't cried in a long time; I hadn't had

a reason to. But I felt like I'd done nothing but cry for the past two or three months.

“Troy takes a blood root tincture every few days," I said, hiccuping. “I tried it, but it did nothing for me."

“Why is he taking blood root?" Xander sounded concerned, and when I met his eye, I noticed the flash of

uncertainty darken his irises.

“Some of the vampires said it will help with the… symptoms, after being bitten–chills, fever, things like that. Troy

said it was helping some of our warriors with nightmares."

“But it did nothing for you?"

“No," I replied, wrapping my arms around myself. “I wasn't bitten. Not once."

Xander grew quiet, his eyes fixed on the house. I could feel his guilt and inner turmoil from where I was standing a

few paces away from him.

“Lena's going to be alright–"

“I can't sleep next to her–"

“She probably tried to wake you up. You had no idea you were doing that to her," I coaxed, but he shook his head,

his face covering in a shadow.

“I… I thought coming back here would make it better," he admitted, running his hand over his face. “I thought

some of this was just… being separated from my mate. I felt better today than I have in weeks, Maeve. But then

the second I closed my eyes I just… it all came back." He cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair and

ruffling it in frustration. “My people are suffering. The warriors that came home are just–just as bad as I've been. I

spent the last two months sitting and talking with the families of those warriors who didn't come back to Egoren. I

had to explain why. I've never felt more inadequate–"

“Xander–"

“And I just hurt my mate. I was strangling her. I could've killed her."

“You need to talk to her about this," I pleaded. “Lena can help you–"

“This goes beyond the powers of the White Queens–"

“That's not what I'm saying!"

“I can't trust myself, Maeve. She's having that baby soon, and then what am I supposed to do? What if I hurt her,

our daughter?" His voice cracked and he shook his head, turning away from me.

What was I supposed to say to him now? I didn't have the answers he needed. I wasn't his mate. I didn't know him

like Lena knew him. I just knew he was a warrior. I'd seen the same c*****e he'd seen. I saw my sons when I looked

into his eyes, saw the same sadness and pain.

This war had ripped our world in half, and it would be years until we figured out how to pick up the pieces and heal.

“I have blood root," I whispered. “You should try it."

“I will."

“You should talk to Lena–"

“We're going to Crimson Creek tomorrow," he interrupted, and I nodded.

Hanna wasn't going to be happy that Lena was traveling while she was this far along, but neither of us would stop

her. I'd see to that myself.

“Rowan is… he's having a hard time, too. He blames himself for this."

“Why would he blame himself?" Xander asked, vitriol lacing his words.

Rowan had had a lot to say to me and Troy about Xander, but I knew them both, and I didn't understand the rift

between the two men at all.

“He feels like he should've prepared Lena for something like this instead of sheltering her," I said, then a realization

dawned on me. “He feels like he… his daughter was in a terrible, dangerous position with a horrible man. What he

wanted to do to her... It reminded him of the things Hanna would have faced if we hadn't defeated Tasia--"

“I understand," Xander said quickly, clenching his fists. “I do. I do understand that part of it."

“Rowan doesn't hate you."

“He has a good reason to hate me, especially now."

Xander walked away before I could utter another word. He walked into the castle, and as I breached the back foyer

I saw his figure disappear around a corner on the floors above. I let out my breath, leaning on the doorframe. He

was going back to Lena's room, at least. They'd figure this out. If Troy and I, and Rowan and Hanna, had been able

to figure things out....

“She's shaken, but she's fine. More concerned about him," Hanna said from the shadows.

She looked frazzled as she approached. I wiped the rogue tears from my cheeks and motioned for her to come

close, wrapping my best and dearest friend into a hug.

“Are you okay?" I asked, and she nodded through a shuddering breath.

***

*Lena*

Xander lingered in the doorway for a moment, his eyes downcast as he slowly entered the room and closed the

door behind him. I was standing by the window, my arms crossed over my chest as I watched him take a few more

steps towards me, raising his head to look at me.

“When you asked if I was okay," he began, “I should have been honest with you."

I walked across the room and took his hands in mine, stroking his palms with my thumbs. I looked up at him,

noticing the pain behind his eyes.

I led him to the bed and crawled into it, motioning for him to follow. He was reluctant. I knew he was afraid of

hurting me again, I could see it, but I reached out and took his hand, pulling him towards me.

I laid back against the pillows with Xander's head pressed against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair,

listening to his breathing begin to slow.

“Tell me everything," I breathed, wrapping my arms around him and holding him like a child. “Please, Xander. I

need to know what you went through."

An hour passed, then another. Pale morning sunlight began to filter through the curtains when Xander's voice faded

into soft, rhythmic breaths. He fell asleep against my chest, his arms wrapped around me, and I held him, running

my fingertips over his back as silent tears rolled lazily down my cheeks and along my jaw.

He slept, and slept, and slept, until the morning sun was beaming full and bright over our bed.