Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder novel Chapter 951

Chapter 2 : Rejected

*Lucas*

A pothole almost unseated me as my chauffeur, Ian, navigated us back toward my mansion on a hill from our stop at the post office.

“Ian, a little slower, please?" I said with a wince, pretty sure that last one was going to bruise my ass.

Not that it would be the only bruise on my body. I reached up and touched my cheek once more.

Sasha f*****g Wentley.

She packed a lot more of a punch now than I remembered her having as a kid, but she was still as feisty as ever.

A smile tugged at my lips, but I quickly covered it with a cough as Ian peered at me in the rearview mirror.

Mirrors were going to be the death of me.

When I'd snagged her deep, navy eyes at Nostalgia, I could hardly believe I was seeing her again after all this time. Sure, she'd become curvier in some places, places I couldn't help but notice as I approached her and her friend at the bar. With a tight skirt and a push-up bodice that was completely strapless, showing off miles and miles of fair skin, it was impossible not to notice. I was a red-blooded Lycaon male, after all.

She iced me out immediately, which was disappointing, but I guess at my twenty-seven to her twenty, I'd had more time to get over the past–seven years, to be exact.

I really should have found a new direction, and a different tight-dressed target, when her eyes telegraphed “f**k off" at me in that mirror. But her lavender scent was too tempting, too intoxicating to be ignored.

A whiff or two would be fine, I'd decided. I'd even contented myself with ignoring her, as she'd wanted, and talking with her friend. I could still breathe her in.

Sasha thwarted my carefully laid plan when she stood to go to the ladies' room, however. I'd gotten a few lungfuls of that sweet lavender, but not nearly enough when she slid off her barstool and stomped away.

And then that asshole....

That asshole–he dared touch what was....

I didn't finish that sentence in my mind. I didn't want to suspect something that was truly unbelievable and very, very poorly timed.

But when that bastard laid his grimy hand on her, the puppy was gone and replaced by my wolf. And he was pissed off.

I was surprised the whole bar hadn't heard my growl, crowded or not.

Then he'd started pushing her back into the darkest corner of the hallway, no doubt to do some dark deeds, and I lost it. I lunged, grabbed, and smacked faster than the fat asshole could stop his beer gut from jiggling.

The way my wolf was howling with rage, he was lucky I hadn't shifted right then. An ache had started in my bones, my wolf trying to come out to rip the i***t's throat out. Luckily, I'd had my temperamental wolf long enough to know how and when to get him to back down.

Still, my wolf whined as I let the bastard walk away.

That left Sasha staring at me, and me staring at Sasha.

I hadn't expected hugs and kisses but… she slapped me. What the hell was that for?

The question died in my throat as those large eyes, deep and wide and blue as any ocean, bore into mine, challenging and fierce.

Her soulful blue eyes had always been one of my favorite features of hers. They were as sharp as a knife, and they spoke volumes without her ever saying a word.

They pierced into mine, seeing through me and any number of facades I could have thrown in front of her, daring me to respond in kind. But my wolf was a cub in the palm of her hands. Damnit.

Her scent wrapped around me and all I wanted to do was breathe the same air as her. It was a risk to reach up and push her hair behind her ear, but well worth it to see a hint of warmth break the cold death glare she held on me.

I lowered my hand with a sigh. I wasn't going to be seeing the girl again anyway, so it shouldn't matter. But my inner wolf was still licking his wound.

Personally, I'd been shocked, but now I was just amused. I wondered whether, if Sasha were old enough to have a wolf, hers would be all preening and smug right now.

Hell, I wondered if Sasha herself was all preening and smug right now.

Another pothole had me glaring at the rearview mirror, but this time, Ian did not meet my eyes. I could see his lips twitching, though, and it added to my foul mood.

I growled in warning, then turned my attention to the pile of mail next to me. It was so big, it was being held in place by a length of twine. Such was the life of a royal official.

Complaints would be the bulk of the pile, I knew, probably more than a few about the very potholes we kept hitting. You couldn't be a Royal Engineer without getting complaints about infrastructure. I was tempted to slit the twine with a claw and start getting the pain over with, but the way the expensive sedan was jostling, I decided it would be better to open it at home instead of collecting scattered letters from all over the car.

I blew out a frustrated breath and leaned my head back on the seat, closing my eyes. This new library project occupied the bulk of my time, thank the Moon Goddess, but there was no shirking my other duties. Sleep had become a luxury, and just as I was about to grab some of it, Ian stopped the car.

“We're here, sir," the graying chauffeur said.

I blinked, looking out the window.

I'd designed my home myself in a modern, yet cozy style. How I'd managed to make it look cozy at its large size was a marvel of modern engineering, and, I thought proudly, a testament to my engineering skills. Sunlight glinted off of tan brick and tall windows. Ivy was just starting to creep up the sides from where I'd planted it.

It was home, and I felt a great weight slide off my chest just looking at it.

Ian cleared his throat, and I realized he'd already gotten out of the driver's seat and come around to open my door.

“You really are a pain in the ass, Ian," I grumbled, stepping out.

Ian grinned. “I know, sir."

I shook my head, stomping across the cobblestone to the front door. But inwardly, I was chuckling.

The door swung in to reveal a large foyer of stone tile floor and a sweeping, curved staircase. I walked right past the staircase, past the wide living room, and into the modern kitchen.

I dropped the mail on the counter with a loud thud, startling my vampire and best friend roommate, Brady, as he sat at the table eating cornflakes. Thanks to a serum synthesized from the blood of the White Queens, vampires no longer needed to drink blood. It still gave me a bit of a tickle to see him eating things like cornflakes, snack cakes, and pizza, though.

“Problems?" Brady groused at me, pushing his bowl aside.

“Aren't there always?" I grunted, finally elongating a claw and slashing through the twine holding my mail together.