Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha King's Breeder: Kabanata 741 - Kabanata 750

Blake“Take it slow,” I urge, concern hanging from every syllable as Marianna removes a robe of glossy emerald green that makes her skin glow a soft bronzed gold in the moonlight. It’s nearly a full moon–tomorrow, I believe, which makes sense, seeing as tomorrow is the last full day and night of the mating festival taking place just beyond the palace walls. I make an effort not to outwardly gawk at Marianna’s naked body, but it’s hard not to look. She’s glorious–all softness and curves–places I want to sink my teeth into the second I have a chance. “Will someone take our clothes while we’re gone?” she asks, clutching the robe to her chest, her shoulders and arms bare. I look around the quiet, wooden park that backs up to the castle, the delivery gate just within sight. I cleared the guards from the area twenty minutes ago, so we’re alone. “If they do, they’ll have to answer to me.”She gives me a weak smile before letting the robe drop to the soft grass and kicking it toward a tree

MariannaBlake can barely manage to walk the twelve feet to the bedroom door without needing to brace himself against the wall. I lunge for him but halt mid-step when a tall, broad, and honestly, impossibly handsome man in his mid-seventies barrels into the room looking downright murderous. His black hair is brushed away from his face, peppered with dark gray, but his silver eyes are sharpened and honed on Blake as he braces his hands on the doorframe and scans Blake, then the room, and… softens when he sees me standing in outright terror only a few feet away. I know him. Not personally, of course, but it’s impossible not to know of the ever feared, ever worshipped, Alpha King Ryatt–The King of Shadows, of darkness. The King of The Roguelands and the mystical, secretive Veiled Valley that he passed down to his daughter. Blake sways but manages to keep himself upright as he stretches a hand toward Ryatt in what I can only describe as surrender. “Ryatt, not now.”“You’re Marianna, the

BlakeMarianna and I doze in the quiet darkness of my bedroom for nearly an hour before convincing each other to get up long enough to put on clothes and brush our teeth, at least. Within minutes, we’re back in bed. Marianna snuggles close while I stare at the ceiling, listening to the… silence, as she drifts back to sleep. The world is a shockingly loud place, even in the dead of night. Normally, this is when the stars–the voices in my head–are the most annoying. Loud. Chaotic. Constantly chattering back and forth about everything and nothing all at once. But now?I can hear the breeze coming through the windows. The curtains tremble, fabric brushing against the wall. The palace creaks, settling, pipes groaning and rumbling all around but hushed by the thick walls. I don’t remember closing my eyes. I don’t remember a blank, empty kind of sleep washing over me–dreamless. But I wake several hours later to the moonlight shifting across the ground and the bedroom door silently opening,

MariannaSarah and Sydney are with Skye, standing against the railing around the massive orrery made of copper and glass. Planets spin, tilting on their axes, while the models of stars whirl around on no set course. Blake steps to the side but keeps his hand on my arm, tugging me close, while I gaze in awe at the marvel of magical engineering taking up the entire room. We’re the only people here. We have the whole place to ourselves. The room is much warmer, thankfully, than the rest of the temple. It’s my nerves going haywire, I suppose. I watch as Sydney picks Skye up and swings her onto his shoulders, walking out of sight around the back of the orrery. Blake sighs deeply but smiles as he says under his breath, “My dad can read the positioning of the stars better than my mom can. They have a small orrery at the castle in Crescent Falls, actually. My grandfather Isaac designed it, and my grandma Maddy secretly had it built for him as a present.”“I didn’t realize that these powers

BlakeI barely slept that night. The voices in my head were louder than they’ve ever been but totally unintelligible, like they’re trying to scream loud enough that I’ll finally understand but can’t quite get to me. The spirit of the castle in Veiled Valley lays out a large breakfast spread barely anyone touches. Aris, seated at the end of the long table in the dining hall, toys with a strip of bacon in silence, his head tilted toward the flickering chandelier. I’m sitting across from him next to Soren, who told me last night, when I found him seated in an upstairs sitting room with every single light on, that he has a thing about ghosts and isn’t a fan of this castle for that reason and is currently staring at Aris so intensely it makes me wonder what his deal is. Aris nods to himself, then smirks up at the chandelier, which flickers again. “Are you talking to that thing?” Soren spits, practically snarling. Aris startles, blinking at Soren across an array of fruit and a large pla