Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder novel Chapter 627

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.