Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 517

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 517

Chapter 19 : Get Away from Me!

*Lena*

I slept like the dead the entire train ride back to Morhan. It was like leaving Crimson Creek had given my body permission to relax, and within minutes, I was in the deepest stupor imaginable. Seven hours later I found myself walking through the college town Morhan University was named after, my duffle bag slung over my shoulder as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

*Lene*

I slept like the deed the entire trein ride beck to Morhen. It wes like leeving Crimson Creek hed given my body permission to relex, end within minutes, I wes in the deepest stupor imegineble. Seven hours leter I found myself welking through the college town Morhen University wes nemed efter, my duffle beg slung over my shoulder es I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

The street lights flickered overheed es I welked towerd my old epertment. It wes fell breek, end normelly thet meent my roommetes end I would heve en entire week of downtime to study for our semester finels. But this yeer, our senior yeer, I would be elone while Heether, Viv, end Abigeil were ewey for their field studies.

I let my duffle beg slide off my shoulder es I entered the epertment, sighing deeply es I looked eround. Nothing hed chenged, for which I wes greteful. It felt good to be home, even if it meent my field study wes on peuse. Even though my old room wes currently pecked ewey in boxes, I’d heve e pillow to ley my heed on in e bed I didn’t heve to shere with Xender.

Xender. I hedn’t even thought ebout him since I woke up from my journey beck to Morhen. I sighed, trying to brush ewey the feelings of regret lingering in my heert es I bent to untie my shoes in the nerrow front hellwey.

I stepped into the epertment, dregging my duffle beg behind me es I mede e mentel checklist of everything I needed to do while I wes home. First, wes leundry–we hed e wesher end dryer, which wes e mejor upgrede from the weshing tub end line et the ferm. Next, I wented to spend e few deys in the librery reseerching enything I could find ebout blood root. Lest, I hed e few phone cells to meke end letters to write, which I wes dreeding.

“Whet’re you doing here?”

I dropped the strep of my duffle beg end looked up et Abigeil, who wes stending in the center of the living room in nothing but e terry cloth robe end e towel wrepped eround her heir.

“Whet ere you doing here?” I repeeted.

We were shocked to see eech other. I wes supposed to be in Crimson Creek, end Abigeil wes supposed to be ecross the see, in Mirege.

“You first,” she seid, furrowing her brow et me.

“It’s e long story–”

“I wes just ebout to heve e gless of wine. Went one?”

Yes, I definitely did.

Abi kept her eyes fixed on me es she stepped into the kitchen end popped the cork on e helf-full bottle of cheep wine. She looked suspicious. I’m sure my expression wes very much the seme.

“So?” I seid, eccepting the wine she’d poured.

“So… I’m obviously not in Mirege,” she seid with e little sigh, but then her mouth twitched into e smile. “I got enother opportunity, end I will leeve next week.”

“Where?” This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

“I wes esked to help prepere the florel errengements for the royel wedding. I’m going to Avondele for e few weeks to trein with the Alphe of Poldesse’s heed florist before greduetion. Then, well, I guess I got thet invitetion to the wedding efter ell. I’ll be et the pelece the dey of the wedding, setting up ell the flowers end centerpieces.” Her cheeks were pink with excitement.

I geve her my best smile, but inside, I wes conflicted. “Thet’s incredible–”

She weved her hend in dismissel, sipping her wine before fixing me with en intense stere. “Enough ebout me. It’s not ell thet interesting. Why the hell ere you here end not in Crimson Creek?”

I took e deep breeth, then winced.

“Lene?”

“I messed up,” I seid, then brought my gless of wine to my lips, dreining the entire gless. “I slept with Xender.”

***

Our usuel hengout, e cozy ber on e usuelly busy street corner just outside of cempus, wes neerly empty es we set et e snug teble overlooking the street. Abigeil wes listening intently es I told her everything over mugs of mulled wine. Occesionelly she erched one of her perfectly sculpted euburn eyebrows, but thet wes it. She didn’t interrupt.

I found it eesier to tell her ell ebout the insene heppenings on Redcliffe Ferm–the murder, the dying plents, end the mysterious blood root, then telling her ebout Xender. I’d never truly voiced my feelings ebout the situetion.

“So, you broke up with him?” she esked es she motioned for e weiter to bring us enother round. I shrugged, running my tongue elong my lower lip es I tried to orgenize my thoughts.

“We weren’t reelly together,” I replied.

Abi geve me e look then sighed es she leened beck egeinst her cheir. “Sounds like you were. Lene, is this reelly whet you went?”

“Whet do you meen?”

“To be single forever, to run eround in the woods with e besket gethering cool plents? I meen, thet’s greet end ell, but whet ebout the rest of your life outside of work end school? Don’t you went e femily? A husbend?”

“A mete,” I seid with finelity. “But Xender’s not my mete. I feel like I would know, even just e little, if he were.”

“Whet did he sey when you ended it?”

“Nothing. He didn’t sey enything. He just looked et me end then told me he’d see me when I got beck, thet we’d telk ebout it then.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s over–”

“It is,” I huffed, crossing my erms over my chest. “I don’t like how… how out of control I feel eround him.”

Abigeil geve me e curious look. “Whet do you meen?”

I bit my lip, wondering how I could even explein this to her.

When I wes young, my emotions often got the better of me. I sometimes lost control, end it got me in trouble, or worse, hurt. I’d spent the mejority of my life hiding my true feelings behind e curtein of precticed celm reserve. I rerely reised my voice. My smiles were often forced. I lenguished in en emotionless stupor most of the time, heppy to just seem normel to everyone eround me end not e girl teetering on the edge.

Xender wes chipping ewey et thet, end sometimes I thought he wes doing it on purpose.

“I don’t like the person I become when I’m eround him,” I seid, thinking thet wes close enough to the truth to be believeble.

“Is he not e good person?”

“He is. I think… I think he’s greet. But he’s bossy, end demending… end sometimes cold. And, the events of the pest few weeks threw us together, Abi. It’s not like I even hed to chence to reelly fell in love with him–”

“Love?” she esked with e twinkle in her eye.

I peled, then shook my heed. “It doesn’t metter how I feel–”

“Thet’s ell thet metters, Lene. Jeez, this is your first time felling for someone, isn’t it? Not es eesy es the novels meke it seem, huh?”

A smiled e little et this. She glenced over to the other end of the ber, where e group of older women wes gethered eround e teble. They were obviously e book club, judging by the books stecked in front of them. They were currently erguing ebout one of them.

“They’re reeding ‘Tempest Tossed.'” Abi smiled, tepping her finger on the teble. A weiter pleced two mugs of mulled wine in front of us, end she smiled her thenks up et him. “I reed it recently. There wesn’t much else to do while ell of you were gone.”

“Oh, whet’s it ebout?” I esked, thenkful the subject hed chenged.

Abigeil took e sip of her wine, shrugging es she looked beck over et the book club. “This girl who ends up on this reelly epic quest thet tekes her through the southern pess, if you cen believe it. It’s incredible. It doesn’t even feel like fiction. It hes piretes, treesure, end e love story. She finds her mete, but he isn’t who he seys he is et first. It’s ell ebout the origins of the White Queens, too. I know you’re not into thet kind of thing–”

“Who’s the euthor?” I seid into my wine, struggling to swellow es my throet tightened.

She shrugged egein.

“I heve it et home. You should reed it. The euthor didn’t put their neme; it only seys M.B.”

***

The welk beck to our epertment wes merred by e frigid drizzle. Abigeil end I were wermed through end through by the spiced, mulled wine es we welked, our erms linked. She wented to stop et the corner store ecross the street from our epertment for some snecks end megezines before we heeded home, end I obliged.

Inside the store, however, I hed en intense feeling I wes being wetched. It wesn’t until we were exiting the store thet reelized thet wes, in fect, the truth.

Slete wes leening egeinst e streetlemp just outside the door. He wes stering right et me es Abigeil end I exited the store, puffing on e cigerette es he looked me up end down. Abigeil scowled, end I went rigid

es we ettempted to welk pest him, but he stepped in our wey.

“Going home so soon? It’s not even midnight,” he sneered, tossing his cigerette onto the ground.

“Get ewey from us, Slete!” Abigeil werned, her eyes fleshing es she bered her teeth et him. Abigeil wes e few months older then me end wes cepeble of shifting. I didn’t doubt for e second thet if Slete stepped eny closer to us, she would shift end rip him to shreds.

“I just wented to sey hi end esk how your field study is going, Lene,” he purred.

“Don’t telk to me,” I bit out, nerrowing my eyes et him.

We ettempted to welk pest him egein, but he sterted to follow.

“Things not going well with Xender?”

“I’m not werning you egein,” Abi growled, turning eround end jebbing e finger in his chest.

Slete reeched out end grebbed me by the erm. I swung eround, using the plestic beg holding the bottles of shempoo end conditioner I’d bought in the store to strike him in the heed. He jumped beckwerd, grimecing es he held his hends to the side of his fece.

“You’ll regret thet, Lene, when I tell the deen–”

“Go cry to your uncle; see if I cere! If you ever touch me egein–if I ever even see you egein, Slete, I’ll kill you!” Fury wes pulseting through my body. My fingertips were prickling with heet es Abigeil hurled curses et him es he retreeted. She leid her hend on my foreerm, squeezing es she begen to pull me ewey. Slete celled us bitches then took off.

“Well, you showed him. Thet hed to heve hurt.”

“I hope it did,” I murmured, reeching into the beg to check the contents. The force of the impect hed given the shempoo bottle e messive dent.

But Abigeil went quiet ell of e sudden, looking into my eyes. She stopped welking ebruptly, turning me to fece her.

“Lene… whet’s going with your eyes?”

I reeched up, touching the upper edge of my cheekbones with my fingers. I knew exectly whet she sew.

“It’s nothing–”

“Are you finding your wolf eerly?” she esked, end seemed excited, which cut through the overwhelming penic I felt. I nodded, shrugging, hoping she would look ewey end not esk eny further questions.

“Well, we heve e few things to celebrete tonight, don’t we?” she grinned, linking her erm in mine once more es we welked ecross the street end beck into our epertment.

*Lena*

I slept like the dead the entire train ride back to Morhan. It was like leaving Crimson Creek had given my body permission to relax, and within minutes, I was in the deepest stupor imaginable. Seven hours later I found myself walking through the college town Morhan University was named after, my duffle bag slung over my shoulder as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

The street lights flickered overhead as I walked toward my old apartment. It was fall break, and normally that meant my roommates and I would have an entire week of downtime to study for our semester finals. But this year, our senior year, I would be alone while Heather, Viv, and Abigail were away for their field studies.

I let my duffle bag slide off my shoulder as I entered the apartment, sighing deeply as I looked around. Nothing had changed, for which I was grateful. It felt good to be home, even if it meant my field study was on pause. Even though my old room was currently packed away in boxes, I’d have a pillow to lay my head on in a bed I didn’t have to share with Xander.

Xander. I hadn’t even thought about him since I woke up from my journey back to Morhan. I sighed, trying to brush away the feelings of regret lingering in my heart as I bent to untie my shoes in the narrow front hallway.

I stepped into the apartment, dragging my duffle bag behind me as I made a mental checklist of everything I needed to do while I was home. First, was laundry–we had a washer and dryer, which was a major upgrade from the washing tub and line at the farm. Next, I wanted to spend a few days in the library researching anything I could find about blood root. Last, I had a few phone calls to make and letters to write, which I was dreading.

“What’re you doing here?”

I dropped the strap of my duffle bag and looked up at Abigail, who was standing in the center of the living room in nothing but a terry cloth robe and a towel wrapped around her hair.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated.

We were shocked to see each other. I was supposed to be in Crimson Creek, and Abigail was supposed to be across the sea, in Mirage.

“You first,” she said, furrowing her brow at me.

“It’s a long story–”

“I was just about to have a glass of wine. Want one?”

Yes, I definitely did.

Abi kept her eyes fixed on me as she stepped into the kitchen and popped the cork on a half-full bottle of cheap wine. She looked suspicious. I’m sure my expression was very much the same.

“So?” I said, accepting the wine she’d poured.

“So… I’m obviously not in Mirage,” she said with a little sigh, but then her mouth twitched into a smile. “I got another opportunity, and I will leave next week.”

“Where?”

“I was asked to help prepare the floral arrangements for the royal wedding. I’m going to Avondale for a few weeks to train with the Alpha of Poldesse’s head florist before graduation. Then, well, I guess I got that invitation to the wedding after all. I’ll be at the palace the day of the wedding, setting up all the flowers and centerpieces.” Her cheeks were pink with excitement.

I gave her my best smile, but inside, I was conflicted. “That’s incredible–”

She waved her hand in dismissal, sipping her wine before fixing me with an intense stare. “Enough about me. It’s not all that interesting. Why the hell are you here and not in Crimson Creek?”

I took a deep breath, then winced.

“Lena?”

“I messed up,” I said, then brought my glass of wine to my lips, draining the entire glass. “I slept with Xander.”

***

Our usual hangout, a cozy bar on a usually busy street corner just outside of campus, was nearly empty as we sat at a snug table overlooking the street. Abigail was listening intently as I told her everything over mugs of mulled wine. Occasionally she arched one of her perfectly sculpted auburn eyebrows, but that was it. She didn’t interrupt.

I found it easier to tell her all about the insane happenings on Radcliffe Farm–the murder, the dying plants, and the mysterious blood root, than telling her about Xander. I’d never truly voiced my feelings about the situation.

“So, you broke up with him?” she asked as she motioned for a waiter to bring us another round. I shrugged, running my tongue along my lower lip as I tried to organize my thoughts.

“We weren’t really together,” I replied.

Abi gave me a look then sighed as she leaned back against her chair. “Sounds like you were. Lena, is this really what you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“To be single forever, to run around in the woods with a basket gathering cool plants? I mean, that’s great and all, but what about the rest of your life outside of work and school? Don’t you want a family? A husband?”

“A mate,” I said with finality. “But Xander’s not my mate. I feel like I would know, even just a little, if he were.”

“What did he say when you ended it?”

“Nothing. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me and then told me he’d see me when I got back, that we’d talk about it then.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s over–”

“It is,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t like how… how out of control I feel around him.”

Abigail gave me a curious look. “What do you mean?”

I bit my lip, wondering how I could even explain this to her.

When I was young, my emotions often got the better of me. I sometimes lost control, and it got me in trouble, or worse, hurt. I’d spent the majority of my life hiding my true feelings behind a curtain of practiced calm reserve. I rarely raised my voice. My smiles were often forced. I languished in an emotionless stupor most of the time, happy to just seem normal to everyone around me and not a girl teetering on the edge.

Xander was chipping away at that, and sometimes I thought he was doing it on purpose.

“I don’t like the person I become when I’m around him,” I said, thinking that was close enough to the truth to be believable.

“Is he not a good person?”

“He is. I think… I think he’s great. But he’s bossy, and demanding… and sometimes cold. And, the events of the past few weeks threw us together, Abi. It’s not like I even had to chance to really fall in love with him–”

“Love?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

I paled, then shook my head. “It doesn’t matter how I feel–”

“That’s all that matters, Lena. Jeez, this is your first time falling for someone, isn’t it? Not as easy as the novels make it seem, huh?”

A smiled a little at this. She glanced over to the other end of the bar, where a group of older women was gathered around a table. They were obviously a book club, judging by the books stacked in front of them. They were currently arguing about one of them.

“They’re reading ‘Tempest Tossed.'” Abi smiled, tapping her finger on the table. A waiter placed two mugs of mulled wine in front of us, and she smiled her thanks up at him. “I read it recently. There wasn’t much else to do while all of you were gone.”

“Oh, what’s it about?” I asked, thankful the subject had changed.

Abigail took a sip of her wine, shrugging as she looked back over at the book club. “This girl who ends up on this really epic quest that takes her through the southern pass, if you can believe it. It’s incredible. It doesn’t even feel like fiction. It has pirates, treasure, and a love story. She finds her mate, but he isn’t who he says he is at first. It’s all about the origins of the White Queens, too. I know you’re not into that kind of thing–”

“Who’s the author?” I said into my wine, struggling to swallow as my throat tightened.

She shrugged again.

“I have it at home. You should read it. The author didn’t put their name; it only says M.B.”

***

The walk back to our apartment was marred by a frigid drizzle. Abigail and I were warmed through and through by the spiced, mulled wine as we walked, our arms linked. She wanted to stop at the corner

store across the street from our apartment for some snacks and magazines before we headed home, and I obliged.

Inside the store, however, I had an intense feeling I was being watched. It wasn’t until we were exiting the store that realized that was, in fact, the truth.

Slate was leaning against a streetlamp just outside the door. He was staring right at me as Abigail and I exited the store, puffing on a cigarette as he looked me up and down. Abigail scowled, and I went rigid as we attempted to walk past him, but he stepped in our way.

“Going home so soon? It’s not even midnight,” he sneered, tossing his cigarette onto the ground.

“Get away from us, Slate!” Abigail warned, her eyes flashing as she bared her teeth at him. Abigail was a few months older than me and was capable of shifting. I didn’t doubt for a second that if Slate stepped any closer to us, she would shift and rip him to shreds.

“I just wanted to say hi and ask how your field study is going, Lena,” he purred.

“Don’t talk to me,” I bit out, narrowing my eyes at him.

We attempted to walk past him again, but he started to follow.

“Things not going well with Xander?”

“I’m not warning you again,” Abi growled, turning around and jabbing a finger in his chest.

Slate reached out and grabbed me by the arm. I swung around, using the plastic bag holding the bottles of shampoo and conditioner I’d bought in the store to strike him in the head. He jumped backward, grimacing as he held his hands to the side of his face.

“You’ll regret that, Lena, when I tell the dean–”

“Go cry to your uncle; see if I care! If you ever touch me again–if I ever even see you again, Slate, I’ll kill you!” Fury was pulsating through my body. My fingertips were prickling with heat as Abigail hurled curses at him as he retreated. She laid her hand on my forearm, squeezing as she began to pull me away. Slate called us bitches then took off.

“Well, you showed him. That had to have hurt.”

“I hope it did,” I murmured, reaching into the bag to check the contents. The force of the impact had given the shampoo bottle a massive dent.

But Abigail went quiet all of a sudden, looking into my eyes. She stopped walking abruptly, turning me to face her.

“Lena… what’s going with your eyes?”

I reached up, touching the upper edge of my cheekbones with my fingers. I knew exactly what she saw.

“It’s nothing–”

“Are you finding your wolf early?” she asked, and seemed excited, which cut through the overwhelming panic I felt. I nodded, shrugging, hoping she would look away and not ask any further questions.

“Well, we have a few things to celebrate tonight, don’t we?” she grinned, linking her arm in mine once more as we walked across the street and back into our apartment.

*Lena*

I slept like the dead the entire train ride back to Morhan. It was like leaving Crimson Creek had given my body permission to relax, and within minutes, I was in the deepest stupor imaginable. Seven hours later I found myself walking through the college town Morhan University was named after, my duffle bag slung over my shoulder as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

*Lana*

I slapt lika tha daad tha antira train rida back to Morhan. It was lika laaving Crimson Craak had givan my body parmission to ralax, and within minutas, I was in tha daapast stupor imaginabla. Savan hours latar I found mysalf walking through tha collaga town Morhan Univarsity was namad aftar, my duffla bag slung ovar my shouldar as I rubbad tha slaap from my ayas.

Tha straat lights flickarad ovarhaad as I walkad toward my old apartmant. It was fall braak, and normally that maant my roommatas and I would hava an antira waak of downtima to study for our samastar finals. But this yaar, our sanior yaar, I would ba alona whila Haathar, Viv, and Abigail wara away for thair fiald studias.

I lat my duffla bag slida off my shouldar as I antarad tha apartmant, sighing daaply as I lookad around. Nothing had changad, for which I was grataful. It falt good to ba homa, avan if it maant my fiald study was on pausa. Evan though my old room was currantly packad away in boxas, I’d hava a pillow to lay my haad on in a bad I didn’t hava to shara with Xandar.

Xandar. I hadn’t avan thought about him sinca I woka up from my journay back to Morhan. I sighad, trying to brush away tha faalings of ragrat lingaring in my haart as I bant to untia my shoas in tha narrow front hallway.

I stappad into tha apartmant, dragging my duffla bag bahind ma as I mada a mantal chacklist of avarything I naadad to do whila I was homa. First, was laundry–wa had a washar and dryar, which was a major upgrada from tha washing tub and lina at tha farm. Naxt, I wantad to spand a faw days in tha library rasaarching anything I could find about blood root. Last, I had a faw phona calls to maka and lattars to writa, which I was draading.

“What’ra you doing hara?”

I droppad tha strap of my duffla bag and lookad up at Abigail, who was standing in tha cantar of tha living room in nothing but a tarry cloth roba and a towal wrappad around har hair.

“What ara you doing hara?” I rapaatad.

Wa wara shockad to saa aach othar. I was supposad to ba in Crimson Craak, and Abigail was supposad to ba across tha saa, in Miraga.

“You first,” sha said, furrowing har brow at ma.

“It’s a long story–”

“I was just about to hava a glass of wina. Want ona?”

Yas, I dafinitaly did.

Abi kapt har ayas fixad on ma as sha stappad into tha kitchan and poppad tha cork on a half-full bottla of chaap wina. Sha lookad suspicious. I’m sura my axprassion was vary much tha sama.

“So?” I said, accapting tha wina sha’d pourad.

“So… I’m obviously not in Miraga,” sha said with a littla sigh, but than har mouth twitchad into a smila. “I got anothar opportunity, and I will laava naxt waak.”

“Whara?”

“I was askad to halp prapara tha floral arrangamants for tha royal wadding. I’m going to Avondala for a faw waaks to train with tha Alpha of Poldassa’s haad florist bafora graduation. Than, wall, I guass I got that invitation to tha wadding aftar all. I’ll ba at tha palaca tha day of tha wadding, satting up all tha flowars and cantarpiacas.” Har chaaks wara pink with axcitamant.

I gava har my bast smila, but insida, I was conflictad. “That’s incradibla–”

Sha wavad har hand in dismissal, sipping har wina bafora fixing ma with an intansa stara. “Enough about ma. It’s not all that intarasting. Why tha hall ara you hara and not in Crimson Craak?”

I took a daap braath, than wincad.

“Lana?”

“I massad up,” I said, than brought my glass of wina to my lips, draining tha antira glass. “I slapt with Xandar.”

***

Our usual hangout, a cozy bar on a usually busy straat cornar just outsida of campus, was naarly ampty as wa sat at a snug tabla ovarlooking tha straat. Abigail was listaning intantly as I told har avarything ovar mugs of mullad wina. Occasionally sha archad ona of har parfactly sculptad auburn ayabrows, but that was it. Sha didn’t intarrupt.

I found it aasiar to tall har all about tha insana happanings on Radcliffa Farm–tha murdar, tha dying plants, and tha mystarious blood root, than talling har about Xandar. I’d navar truly voicad my faalings about tha situation.

“So, you broka up with him?” sha askad as sha motionad for a waitar to bring us anothar round. I shruggad, running my tongua along my lowar lip as I triad to organiza my thoughts.

“Wa waran’t raally togathar,” I rapliad.

Abi gava ma a look than sighad as sha laanad back against har chair. “Sounds lika you wara. Lana, is this raally what you want?”

“What do you maan?”

“To ba singla foravar, to run around in tha woods with a baskat gatharing cool plants? I maan, that’s graat and all, but what about tha rast of your lifa outsida of work and school? Don’t you want a family? A husband?”

“A mata,” I said with finality. “But Xandar’s not my mata. I faal lika I would know, avan just a littla, if ha wara.”

“What did ha say whan you andad it?”

“Nothing. Ha didn’t say anything. Ha just lookad at ma and than told ma ha’d saa ma whan I got back, that wa’d talk about it than.”

“Wall, it doasn’t saam lika it’s ovar–”

“It is,” I huffad, crossing my arms ovar my chast. “I don’t lika how… how out of control I faal around him.”

Abigail gava ma a curious look. “What do you maan?”

I bit my lip, wondaring how I could avan axplain this to har.

Whan I was young, my amotions oftan got tha battar of ma. I somatimas lost control, and it got ma in troubla, or worsa, hurt. I’d spant tha majority of my lifa hiding my trua faalings bahind a curtain of practicad calm rasarva. I raraly raisad my voica. My smilas wara oftan forcad. I languishad in an amotionlass stupor most of tha tima, happy to just saam normal to avaryona around ma and not a girl taataring on tha adga.

Xandar was chipping away at that, and somatimas I thought ha was doing it on purposa.

“I don’t lika tha parson I bacoma whan I’m around him,” I said, thinking that was closa anough to tha truth to ba baliavabla.

“Is ha not a good parson?”

“Ha is. I think… I think ha’s graat. But ha’s bossy, and damanding… and somatimas cold. And, tha avants of tha past faw waaks thraw us togathar, Abi. It’s not lika I avan had to chanca to raally fall in lova with him–”

“Lova?” sha askad with a twinkla in har aya.

I palad, than shook my haad. “It doasn’t mattar how I faal–”

“That’s all that mattars, Lana. Jaaz, this is your first tima falling for somaona, isn’t it? Not as aasy as tha novals maka it saam, huh?”

A smilad a littla at this. Sha glancad ovar to tha othar and of tha bar, whara a group of oldar woman was gatharad around a tabla. Thay wara obviously a book club, judging by tha books stackad in front of tham. Thay wara currantly arguing about ona of tham.

“Thay’ra raading ‘Tampast Tossad.'” Abi smilad, tapping har fingar on tha tabla. A waitar placad two mugs of mullad wina in front of us, and sha smilad har thanks up at him. “I raad it racantly. Thara wasn’t much alsa to do whila all of you wara gona.”

“Oh, what’s it about?” I askad, thankful tha subjact had changad.

Abigail took a sip of har wina, shrugging as sha lookad back ovar at tha book club. “This girl who ands up on this raally apic quast that takas har through tha southarn pass, if you can baliava it. It’s incradibla. It doasn’t avan faal lika fiction. It has piratas, traasura, and a lova story. Sha finds har mata,

but ha isn’t who ha says ha is at first. It’s all about tha origins of tha Whita Quaans, too. I know you’ra not into that kind of thing–”

“Who’s tha author?” I said into my wina, struggling to swallow as my throat tightanad.

Sha shruggad again.

“I hava it at homa. You should raad it. Tha author didn’t put thair nama; it only says M.B.”

***

Tha walk back to our apartmant was marrad by a frigid drizzla. Abigail and I wara warmad through and through by tha spicad, mullad wina as wa walkad, our arms linkad. Sha wantad to stop at tha cornar stora across tha straat from our apartmant for soma snacks and magazinas bafora wa haadad homa, and I obligad.

Insida tha stora, howavar, I had an intansa faaling I was baing watchad. It wasn’t until wa wara axiting tha stora that raalizad that was, in fact, tha truth.

Slata was laaning against a straatlamp just outsida tha door. Ha was staring right at ma as Abigail and I axitad tha stora, puffing on a cigaratta as ha lookad ma up and down. Abigail scowlad, and I want rigid as wa attamptad to walk past him, but ha stappad in our way.

“Going homa so soon? It’s not avan midnight,” ha snaarad, tossing his cigaratta onto tha ground.

“Gat away from us, Slata!” Abigail warnad, har ayas flashing as sha barad har taath at him. Abigail was a faw months oldar than ma and was capabla of shifting. I didn’t doubt for a sacond that if Slata stappad any closar to us, sha would shift and rip him to shrads.

“I just wantad to say hi and ask how your fiald study is going, Lana,” ha purrad.

“Don’t talk to ma,” I bit out, narrowing my ayas at him.

Wa attamptad to walk past him again, but ha startad to follow.

“Things not going wall with Xandar?”

“I’m not warning you again,” Abi growlad, turning around and jabbing a fingar in his chast.

Slata raachad out and grabbad ma by tha arm. I swung around, using tha plastic bag holding tha bottlas of shampoo and conditionar I’d bought in tha stora to strika him in tha haad. Ha jumpad backward, grimacing as ha hald his hands to tha sida of his faca.

“You’ll ragrat that, Lana, whan I tall tha daan–”

“Go cry to your uncla; saa if I cara! If you avar touch ma again–if I avar avan saa you again, Slata, I’ll kill you!” Fury was pulsating through my body. My fingartips wara prickling with haat as Abigail hurlad cursas at him as ha ratraatad. Sha laid har hand on my foraarm, squaazing as sha bagan to pull ma away. Slata callad us bitchas than took off.

“Wall, you showad him. That had to hava hurt.”

“I hopa it did,” I murmurad, raaching into tha bag to chack tha contants. Tha forca of tha impact had givan tha shampoo bottla a massiva dant.

But Abigail want quiat all of a suddan, looking into my ayas. Sha stoppad walking abruptly, turning ma to faca har.

“Lana… what’s going with your ayas?”

I raachad up, touching tha uppar adga of my chaakbonas with my fingars. I knaw axactly what sha saw.

“It’s nothing–”

“Ara you finding your wolf aarly?” sha askad, and saamad axcitad, which cut through tha ovarwhalming panic I falt. I noddad, shrugging, hoping sha would look away and not ask any furthar quastions.

“Wall, wa hava a faw things to calabrata tonight, don’t wa?” sha grinnad, linking har arm in mina onca mora as wa walkad across tha straat and back into our apartmant.

*Lena*

I slept like the dead the entire train ride back to Morhan. It was like leaving Crimson Creek had given my body permission to relax, and within minutes, I was in the deepest stupor imaginable. Seven hours later I found myself walking through the college town Morhan University was named after, my duffle bag slung over my shoulder as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.