Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder novel Chapter 589

Chapter 89 : Blood for the King

*Lena*

The dining hall was the most luxurious room I'd ever stepped foot into. The walls were lined with golden and cream-colored wallpaper trimmed with marble, veined with gold that continued to the floor and stretched across the entire room. A crystal chandelier the size of a small house hung over our heads, illuminating the domed ceiling.

But my eyes were fixed on Xander, who was standing to the left of the King of Brune and Queen Kiern as I walked into the room.

Kiern was graceful, and her voice was like music as she announced our presence. The table was set for many, many people, and soon the chairs were filled with the members of their court. Kiern didn't take her seat beside her husband before she led me to Xander, smiling softly as he bowed to her and put my hand in his, leading me into the seat next to him.

I watched her walk away, finding it hard to swallow as the members of the court, men and women dressed in riches beyond anything I'd ever witnessed, stared at us.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Xander whispered into my ear as I looked down at my place setting.

I squeezed his hand under the table, but neither of us let go. It had been over a month since we'd been together. Watching him being nearly beaten to death didn't count as quality time.

There was a lot we needed to discuss.

“My father would have given anything to be in the presence of a White Queen," the king said, and I snapped my eyes up from my plate to meet his gaze. Like Kiern, the King of Brune looked shockingly young, even though he was likely several hundred years old. I still wasn't sure how that worked. Maxwell had said lower vampires weren't immortal, right?

Then, these were the High Vampires, the Lords and gods of the realm?

The King of Brune watched me closely with his violet eyes sparkling in the light of the chandelier, searching my face for any silent questions, or plans, lingering behind my hopefully neutral expression. He was tall, lean, and had a sly smile on his full, wide mouth. He glanced at Kiern, who beamed at him, and then gave Xander and me a little shrug that made his tawny blond hair tremble.

Beautiful… all of these people were the definition of gorgeous, with not a blemish, not a scar, not a single thread of hair out of place.

“You have not told her your name," Kiern teased the king, and he raised his brows, letting out a friendly laugh as he relaxed back into his chair that was situated at the head of the long, narrow table.

“King Costas of Brune, your servant," he said in a dramatically formal voice.

Xander raised a brow, a hint of mirth lingering behind his eyes as he looked Costas up and down. I wondered what the two of them had talked about, what Costas knew about the situation in our realm, and what he knew about me.

Xander knitted his hand in mine beneath the table as we turned our attention to a set of double doors that had just opened. A trail of servants fanned out, pushing carts laden with the finest food I'd ever seen.

'I'm confused,' I said, down the bond, and I glanced at Xander out of the corner of my eye, noticing the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

He didn't answer me, and I turned my attention to the servants as they placed heaping platters of fruits I couldn't name on the table, separated by roast chickens, prime rib, and roast pork. The court talked excitedly over the spread, but no one touched the food. I felt my mouth watering as I eyed a platter filled with what looked like palm-sized meat pies, the pastry perfectly golden and crackling with butter and steam.

A final servant came out of the doorway holding a golden platter in one hand. He approached King Costas, bowing low and then setting the dish in front of him, removing the lid to reveal a goblet of what looked like wine.

But I knew it was not.

My stomach clenched, and I felt bile rising in my throat as I forced myself to hold my gaze on the royals and not look away in haste, giving my discomfort away.

Costas rose from his seat and held his goblet of blood in the air, saying some kingly spiel to his court. I couldn't focus on his words. I could only see the blood as it sloshed around the crystal goblet, then met his lips....

“Oh, Goddess," I choked, covering my mouth with my hands as I nearly doubled over.

I struggled out of my seat, caught by the elbow by Kiern, who was suddenly at my side when a second ago she had been sitting opposite me at the table. She whisked me away, my feet barely touching the floor, and made it out into the corridor just in time for me to throw up in whatever Kiern had handed me, which turned out to be a vase adorned with rubies.

“I am–I am so sorry," I said, the words a struggle.

Kiern patted my back, smiling down at me like we were close friends. “How far along are you?" she asked, arching a perfect, black brow. She snapped her fingers and a maid rushed forward, taking the vase from my hands and handing me a glass of cold water in the same motion.

“I honestly don't know," I replied, leaning against the wall. I drank the water as sweat prickled along my brow.

“Have you gotten sick like this before? Or is it the first time?"

“I thought–I taught kindergarten. I thought the kids gave me the flu."

Kiern looked confused, but I didn't elaborate. I highly doubted vampires had kindergarten, or flus. I just shook my head and began to apologize profusely.

“Oh, shush. It's not that big of a deal, really. You're not the first person to faint or get ill at our dinner table. Half the women of the court still can't look in Costas' direction when he drinks his, well, dinner."

“Whose blood is it?" I asked without thinking. I cowered, but Kiern wrapped her around my shoulder and began to walk me down the corridor, away from the dining hall.

“We have a few feeders, those who volunteer their blood to the king. They're taking care of and are here of their own free will, I assure you."

“I don't know anything about your kind," I said, the words laced with fear and pain.

Kiern furrowed her brow, then pursed her lips into a sympathetic smile. “Well, I'll have something bland sent up to your room for dinner, and you can eat while I tell you everything you need to know. How about that?"

***

I was sprawled in the gigantic four-poster bed, an empty bowl of oatmeal sitting in the crook of my arm as Kiern rested in an armchair by the fire. She had left me in the hands of two maids, who dressed me in the softest cashmere pajamas and tucked me into bed so gently I half expected them to read me a bedtime story and kiss my forehead before they took their leave.

Kiern was also dressed for bed in a lacey, silk robe the same color of the blood Costas had had in his goblet, her long, ebony hair undone and falling around her shoulders as she swirled a glass of wine.

“I don't have a taste for blood," she said, continuing her explanation of the eating habits of the vampires in her court. “But I need it to survive. I get by with a pinch of it here and there, like now, mixed in with my wine in the evenings. I don't know anyone who actually bites their feeders. It's a messy ordeal. We eat food, drink wine and tea, and enjoy a chocolate cake from time to time, just like you." She sipped her wine, shrugging as she set it on the side table next to the armchair and crossed her legs. “What else would you like to know?"

“Are you a High Vampire?"

Her expression stiffened, a vivid sadness sweeping over her eyes as she slowly shook her head and turned her gaze away from me.

“No, we're not."

“What's the difference?"

“We're more like your kind than not, Lena," she said, returning her gaze to my face. “The High Vampires… they're gods in their own rights, powerful, so, so powerful. It's hard to comprehend what they're capable of. They've torn this realm apart, killing thousands and even killing each other. Nikolas is… he's the last High Vampire left. That's it. We've been trying to find a way to kill him and free our kind for centuries, to no avail."

She leaned forward, reaching for the wine glass and draining it swiftly, as though washing his name out of her mouth. “As vampires, we have the ability to live a very, very long time–centuries, especially if we're in good health. King Nikolas has been alive since the dawn of time in our realm, an impossible amount of time. Like you, I have powers, but they don't go further than moving a swift breeze. But Nikolas… he can get into your mind, change you, morph you into what he needs. That's how he keeps the rest of our kind as slaves, you know. He survives off their blood. They build his empire, supply him his army."

“He's going to destroy my realm if I don't submit to him," I said, meeting her eye.

She nodded, and an understanding settled between just as the door opened and Xander stepped into the room. He glanced at Kiern, bobbing his head as he thanked her for looking out for me.

“I'll come fetch you in the morning, Lena," Kiern said as she rose, smiling at me in farewell. “There's someone I want you to meet."

With that, she was gone, and she closed the door behind her.

Xander looked around the room before he settled his gaze on my face.

“I'm fine," I breathed, tapping the empty bowl of oatmeal with my fingertips as he narrowed his eyes at me. “Morning sickness–"

“It's not morning," he countered, bending down to remove his shoes. He was dressed just as fine as the men of the court in a black-on-black shirt and trouser getup, adorned with rich purple embroidery on the stitching. He kicked his shoes in two different directions, and then took his shirt off, then his pants, until he was in nothing but a pair of boxers that hugged his ass and thighs.

I swallowed, finding my throat dry as I watched him move across the foot of the bed in my direction, his eyes blazing with what I hoped was desire, and not anger.

“You owe me," he growled, low in his throat, “for leaving me stranded in your garden."

I was aware of the challenge in his voice, the hunger that lingered there. All of the things we needed to talk about, be damned.

He was on top of me in an instant, rolling over with me in his arms as he pressed me to his chest, the bowl of oatmeal crashing and shattering on the floor beneath the bed.