Alle Kapitel von The Alpha King's Breeder: Kapitel 661 – Kapitel 670

SorenPatton is already at the kitchen table drinking coffee when I sit up from the couch, blinking into hazy midmorning sunlight. My body rejects the idea of moving, my joints popping and head swimming for several seconds before I fully rise and stumble to my feet. He hums a laugh, but his eyes are on a newspaper spread out across the table, which he keeps so clean and polished I can see my reflection in its surface when I sit down. “What time is it?”“Almost eleven,” he says with a small yawn, flipping a page. “Didn’t feel like waking you.”“Is she up yet?” I blearily reach toward the window to pull the curtains closed against the intense sunlight pouring directly into my eyes, but Patton beats me to it, then rises to fetch a coffee mug from his tidy cabinets. “Not yet–”I rise, turning for the stairs.“I already checked on her,” Patton admends, clicking his tongue at me. “She’s fine. She’s still asleep.”I grip the top of the chair, scanning his face for inconsistencies in his st

SorenI’ve never been a fan of witches. I don’t trust them, and they smell strange. They don't smell like shifters do. They smell like… their potions and herbs, with the underlying metallic scent of magic permeating the air around them. I tend to steer clear of them even though it's nearly impossible living in a place like Moonrise, their mecca. Now, it’s completely impossible. The ancient stone cottage built in a grove of cottonwood trees tilts to the side, one corner sinking slowly into the soil over the decades. Four witches rush around the main room of the house, speaking in low tones as they grind herbs and toss them into a cauldron, all while I guard the doorway leading into the room where Maeve is prostate on a cot, covered in thick quilts stuffed with goose down, a fire blazing in the hearth only a few feet away from her. The oldest witch, an elder, skirts in my direction holding a shallow bowl. It’s perfectly smooth on the outside, but the inside is ingrained in a series o

MaeveI’m an idiot. I can’t even look at my reflection in the mirror without blushing so deeply I feel actual heat shimmering across my cheeks. I listen to Soren’s deep, monotone voice as he speaks to Helena, the old witch who owns this house, this clinic deep in the woods, in the other room while I dress. It’s nightfall, but the passage of time today has been nothing but hazy. A storm of epic proportions raged, flooding the forest, swelling every creek and washing out the narrow roadways that connect the smallest, most rural villages to the large towns and cities in the Roguelands. Soren says that’s in our favor, but I’m still not sure why he’s being hunted or how. I destroyed his silver band. The Viper, whoever she is, can’t possibly have a way to track him down now, right? I try to swipe the Viper from my mind, but she works for Hannibal. Soren is a direct link to the most wanted man in the Allied Kingdoms, and I’m… I’m here, with him. I’m… I’m having a hard time not looking at h

MaeveI… I knew better than this. I knew the second I slipped out of our hotel room, chasing that vibration creeping through every surface in the building, that Soren was going to be absolutely ticked off, but I couldn’t help it. There’s something about my power that’s drawn to sound, as strange as it seems. Like a beacon, the music I heard when I’d been taking a bath wrapped its talons around the traces of magic still left in my system and tugged, hard, begging me to follow, to let go. I remember the night of Brie’s elopement as I side-step through the crowd in Soren’s direction, ignoring the curious hands reaching to graze my sweater before pulling back, like they can’t believe I’m here, their princess, their soon to be queen, and I’d just been dancing like mad on a table for all of them to see. That night after the ceremony, Blake told me something that stuck in my brain like a piece of gum, forever ingrained in my memory. Find something that shuts you off. Music gets me going

MaeveHazy morning sunlight bleeds through dark storm clouds, sending ribbons of light through the fog gathering at my ankles. We’ve been walking for two miles, at least, in what direction… I don’t know, and I honestly don’t care. Soren is several yards ahead of me and hasn’t so much as looked in my direction as he leads me down a narrow, paved road in the middle of Goddess-damned nowhere. There’re no trees here. Just rolling, grassy hills and a single, lonely, fog-soaked road. Rain begins to patter against the top of my head. It’s gentle, thank goodness, but enough to make me pull the hood of my cloak over my hair. I keep thinking about what happened in the hotel only two or so hours ago. I rub my neck, still feeling the pressure of his teeth there, and then relive his moment of shock. Now, I’m watching him favor his arm, the one where he used to wear the silver band. It’s bothering him–itching, I believe. He won’t leave it alone. “Soren,” I shout, coming to a stop. My boots sque