Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder novel Chapter 567

Chapter 67 : Shattered Heart

*Lena*

One Week Later

Olive Thermaldi was a strange woman.

She was tapping her pen against her desk as she looked me up and down, and then peered down at my transcript from Morhan, a look of suspicion etched into every line of her face. She was slight of build and rather tall, with soft gray hair that was pinned away from her and twisted into a low, neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark, rich skin was nearly perfect, and despite her age, she had an air of youth that I found hard not to notice as she ran her tongue along her lower lip and shrugged, handing the transcript back to me.

She'd been reading my transcript line by line for the past hour. Thankfully, it had my alias instead of my given name. There was no way I could be traced here by my family, I'd made sure of it during my long, somewhat arduous journey across the entirety of the western continent.

Cedar Hollow was a small, mountainous town as far west as possible. The great Western Range towered overhead, cutting the town off to even the closest settlements. There was a single road in and out, and it had taken me seven hours by a rickety bus to even reach the town.

“You're overqualified," Olive said, sucking in her cheeks and arching her brows. “Can't find a job that better suits your skills, huh?"

“I wanted to come here." I lied but was acting as enthusiastically as possible.

“Well, you're an hour late and a dollar short, my dear. This position has already been filled. The Alpha only has the need for one horticulturist at the moment–"

“But–"

“But," she interrupted, looking me up and down. “Do you like kids?"

“Kids? I–"

“Ever thought about teaching?"

“Teaching? I never–I don't have a teaching license–"

She waved a hand in dismissal, chuckling a bit as she tapped her pen on her desk again.

“You think the Alpha King and his administration care about schools this rural? Our kids are born in Cedar Hollow and stay in Cedar Hollow, you know."

“I don't think I'm qualified–"

“You're more than qualified. A degree in the sciences is more than any of our teachers have ever had. We need someone soon, anyway. The Solstice break is over next week and their teacher decided not to come back to work after maternity leave."

“I've never taught before!" I stammered.

Olive gave me a look, then laughed, turning her chair to reach into a cabinet beneath her desk. She pulled out a folder and set it on the desk, shaking her head.

“Can you use scissors?"

“Yes, I–"

“What about a glue stick?"

“Yes…"

“Do you know shapes and colors?"

“Of course? What–"

“Then you know everything you need to know to teach kindergarten, Ms, uh, what was it again?"

“Ms. Grayleigh," I said, clearing my throat. Ms. Grayleigh. Lena Grayleigh. That's who I was now, and would be forever. Selene Gray was gone, as was her long, white hair that brushed her hips when she walked. I'd cut it off in a train station bathroom three days ago, tossing the length of it in the trash. I reached up and tucked a lock of my chin-length hair behind my ear as Olive looked me up and down again.

“Well, Ms. G," she said with a smile as she pushed a contract in front of me. “You look like someone who may or may not be running from something, or just wanting to start fresh, where no one knows your name. Right?"

I blinked, fighting the color that was spreading over my neck and cheeks.

“It's none of my business, anyway. But you can have a job and a place to live. All you've gotta do is sign."

Teach kindergarten? Me?

I looked down at the contract, my fingers curling around the pen sitting next to the folder.

I kind of had to do it. I couldn't just go back home, not now, not after stealing away from my family with little more than a note telling them not to look for me.

I'd be paid, not well, but enough to buy what I needed to survive. The job came with a cottage and a stipend at the weekly market for meat and dairy. I sighed, glancing up at Olive before looking down at the contract.

“The kids will love ya, someone young and energetic. Their last teacher was a bit of a bore, and the teacher before that was a logger who lost an arm in an accident involving a chainsaw."

I looked up at her, shocked.

She giggled. “It was as gory as it sounds."

“Oh, um…" I tried to smile but found myself bursting with adrenaline as I positioned the pen above the signature.

“The cottage is a two bedroom, one bath. Loft style, big loft–" she rattled off the attributes of the cottage, each more charming than the last–clawfoot soaker tub, porcelain basin sink, a wood-fired oven… so on, and so forth.

The pen hovered over the contract, ink dripping onto the paper near the signature line. I sighed and signed my name.

If I could survive whatever the hell was happening in Crimson Creek, I could survive a group of five-year-olds, right?

***

“It's not much," said the groundskeeper as he unlocked the front door of the cottage and tossed me the keys.

I almost didn't catch them because I was looking up at the incredible network of tangled redwood branches above my head. The trees here were massive, just like the trees in Red Lakes. The landscape was uneven and rocky, and I could tell just by looking around that this place saw more rain than snow, and was likely subject to incredible bouts of thick, spooky fog.

I loved the rain. I loved the coziness of fog and mist as it whispered against the windows while a fire crackled in the background. It reminded me of home, of Mirage, a place that rarely ever saw snow and bitter cold.

And the cottage… oh, the cottage. It was absolute perfection.

I gasped as I walked inside, looking up at the exposed beams running across the shallow ceiling. The groundskeeper was a tall man, and he had to duck his head as he moved around the open kitchen and living room area. The hearth took up an entire wall, built of the same gray and brown stone as the outside of the house. The inner walls surrounding the staircase were made of wood and had been painted a pale blue and decorated with painted flowers and vines that swirled up the railing. The kitchen cabinets were a muted green, faded with age and use. There was indeed a wood-fired oven, and the groundskeeper showed me how to use it as we moved from space to space in the cottage.

Lace curtains shut out the outside world. Rain pelted on the thatch roof. The groundskeeper lit a fire in the hearth and then brought in my bags, tipping his wool hat to me in farewell.

Home… this was home. This was my home, and would likely be my home for a long time.

I ran my fingertips over every shelf in the built-in bookcases by the hearth, imagining the books I'd stack there. I would cut fresh flowers in the spring and put them in vases, covering every surface in pale, fragrant blooms.

There was a wild, unkempt garden out front, and I would tend to that too. I could just imagine hanging the herbs from the rafters and filling the entire place with the scent of rosemary and thyme.

But then I ran my fingers over the breakfast nook, the wood cool to the touch. The vision of Xander and me sitting around the table with our children rushed into my mind, and my vision blurred with tears as I tucked my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

I would never have that life, not with anyone. Xander had left, and there was no word from him at all. I'd even stopped in Morhan to gather the boxes I had packed that Heather and Viv meant to ship to Valoria but hadn't. It had been a blessing in disguise, because the boxes of my knick-knacks and books from my time on campus now sat in the center of the main room of the cottage, waiting to be unpacked.

This was what I'd always wanted, right, to be alone… to be living the life I wanted, on my own terms?

Alone… with no one to hurt, no one I could harm inadvertently with my powers.

I grabbed my duffle bag and went upstairs into the closed-off loft, lingering in the tight hallway between the two bedrooms and bathroom.

The walls were bare, and for a heartbreaking moment, I envisioned children's artwork hanging from the walls. I forced the thought away.

It had been early evening when the groundskeeper took me to my cottage, and after a long bath and an hour's worth of unpacking, I was rather hungry. The groundskeeper said there was a diner in the village that was open late for those who worked in the forest and in the mines, and that it was a short walk from the cottage. I dressed, pulling my hair into a ponytail, and I had begun to pull on my coat when a knock sounded on the door.

I froze. Had my family found me this quickly? Abigail was the only person who knew where I was. Had she told Oliver?

Or was it Xander, lured here by the mate bond we still shared?

I flew to the door and looked through the peephole.

A tall, dark-haired man was standing on the porch, his back to the door. My heart leaped in my chest as I closed the peephole and took a step away from the door.

It was Xander. I was sure it was. He was standing on my porch, right now, ready to disrupt my life yet again.

The worst part about it was that I was excited. I was glad he was here. The last week had been a heartbreak I couldn't possibly put into words. I'd let him in. I'd fight with him. Then I'd let him into my bed.

I clasped the handle but hesitated when it came to turning the knob. Another soft knock, then I heard footsteps on the porch and down the single step leading to the gravel walkway through the front garden.

“Wait!" I called out as I swung open the door.

The figure stopped walking and turned around.

“Oh," I said beneath my breath, and I felt my heart shatter all over again.