Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 50 : Wedding Preparations

*Lena*

Sometimes I wished I had been old enough to remember what Avondale was like before the reign of

my Aunt Maeve and Uncle Troy. It was hard to imagine what the pack lands had dubbed “The City of

Gold" as anything less than it was now.

Resorts and restaurants lined the public beaches from end to end of the island capital, their golden

facades glimmering like gems in the sun. Palm trees hugged the sprawling tropical parks and

greenbelts that wove through the neighborhoods that surrounded downtown Avondale, where the

nightlife was lively and the daytime was rich with markets and entertainment.

I'd heard the stories, of course. Maeve and Troy hadn't had the easiest time when they first came to

claim Troy's rightful territory and his pack. The Isles of Denali had been in a state of ruin and decay for

decades.

But they'd done it. They brought the Isles back to life in the two decades they'd ruled as Alpha and

Luna. They were beloved by their people, even if their rule had been unorthodox.

Uncle Troy, the Alpha of Poldesse, had been a pirate. Before that, he'd been an uneducated,

unattended orphan running with a pack of other young boys and smuggling goods for the previous

Alpha of Poldesse before he was even ten years old.

Aunt Maeve, well, she was just Maeve, and rather hard to describe. Her temper was legendary, but so

was her kindness. Together, they formed a team that seemed to have been pulled straight out of the

pages of some sweeping fantasy .

Under their rule, Avondale was paradise. Even the incredibly gigantic palace nestled atop the highest

point of the island, overlooking the ocean, seemed cozy and warm. This place was filled with love.

But even as I sprawled out in the bedroom I'd spent a month in every year since I was born, the walls

painted a pale pink and curtains drifting in the soft, tropical breeze, I couldn't shake the emptiness

inside my soul. I'd been here for a week and was no closer to feeling whole again. Not after Xander.

I wondered, painfully, if I'd ever feel whole again.

Aunt Maeve knew something was up. She'd been giving me that look of hers that told me she was

going to find out the truth. She always did; she had her ways. Oliver and his brothers always

complained about their mother's ability to sniff out the truth and unravel their plans before they had a

chance to act on whatever misfortune they were plotting.

So far, I'd successfully hidden the fact that my solemn attitude was about a man, and chalked it up to

being sad about college being over. My mom was giving me space, for which I was thankful. Aunt

Maeve, on the other hand....

I'm sure Maeve thought my melancholy mood had something to do with my powers, or lack thereof. It

wouldn't take long for her and my mother to find out I was just a sniveling, heartbroken, puddle of

emotions… my heart shattered by a fleeting crush.

I rolled over in my bed, staring out the open window. Bright sun. Blue skies. Another picture-perfect day

I'd spent wallowing in my own pity.

But then I heard heavy footsteps in the hall, and Oliver practically kicked in the door on his way in, his

voice booming through my cave of self-inflicted depression.

“You're being really lame, Lena," he said, flopping down on the empty side of my bed. I rolled over,

glaring at him before I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin.

Oliver was handsome; I'd give him that, with his curly, copper blond hair, sun-kissed skin, and the

sharp, angular features all of us cousins shared. While I had the delicate look of my grandmother

Rosalie, Oliver favored his mother, and our grandfather, Ethan–sharp nose, high cheekbones, and a

wide, white smile.

He was sarcastic and annoying, but I was allowed to say so. We'd been raised more like siblings.

He was the only triplet who'd inherited my uncle Troy's eyes, however. One was a piercing glacier blue,

while the other was steel gray. His uncommon eyes were fixed on mine as he reached out and

snatched the pillow from under my head, smacking me firmly over the face with it.

“Get out!" I screeched, but then slid off the side of the bed, my legs stuck in the satin sheets as I sunk

clumsily to the floor.

“Well, now that you're up, let's go do something today. Anything–I don't care; I just need to get out of

here."

I peered at him from over the top of the mattress, reaching up to smooth the static from my hair while

fixing him with a scowl. He blinked at me a few times, then shrugged, rolling off the opposite side of the

bed and walking toward the door.

“I'm supposed to be the sad one," he continued, tapping his fingers on the doorframe.

“I'm not sad–"

“What would you call it, then?"

I pursed my lips, unable to think of a quick excuse for the fact I'd spent the last week closed up in my

room.

“You can tell me all about him while we lay out on the beach," he said, barely slipping out of the way

before the pillow I'd chucked across the room hit its mark, which would have been his face.

How did he know?

“I'm not–" I was interrupted by the door closing firmly behind him, leaving me alone, again. I sighed

heavily, pulling myself upright and walking across the plush, carpeted floor to the vanity on the other

side of the room, glancing at my ruffled reflection in the mirror before pulling a silk robe over my

pajamas. I tied the robe across my middle as I padded barefoot toward the door to my bedroom, but

paused as my hand rested on the doorknob.

Maybe talking about Xander would make me feel better, despite how foolish I felt.

I opened the door and stepped out in the breezy hallway, then made my way toward the informal dining

room on the first floor.

***

“It's a shame, really," Aunt Maeve murmured as she lounged with her bare feet propped on the sofa, a

pen between her teeth. She was holding a stack of papers in her hands, reading over the fine print of

some documents pertaining to the wedding. “I often wonder if all of this is for show. The flowers, the

band, the candlelit walk down the aisle.... It'll be daytime." She ran her pen over a line of print with a

sigh.

I shifted my weight in the armchair I was sitting in, looking past her at the open doors of the terrace that

wrapped around the backside of the castle. “Why is it a shame?" I asked.

Maeve glanced at me, her deep blue eyes flashing playfully as she turned her attention back to her

papers.

“I don't think I've heard you say a single word since you got here, honey."

“I haven't been feeling well," I replied, crossing my legs. “I'm… jet-lagged."

“Mhmm…"

I chewed the inside of my lip as she set the papers down on the coffee table, twirling her pen over her

fingers.

“Where's Mom?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.

Maeve's eyes narrowed on mine for a moment, but then she shrugged, motioning her hand toward the

terrace.

“She went on a walk with your dad. They'll be back in time to greet your grandparents and whoever

else shows up today." Her face fell a little as she spoke, her brows arching as she sighed. “So much to

do–"

My great aunts and uncles would be arriving for the wedding, which was taking place in just a few days.

My great aunt Vicky's three daughters, their husbands, and all nine of their children were also expected

to attend. George and his two sisters, Eliza and Beatrix and their parents, my great aunt Georgia, and

my great Uncle Talon, had just arrived this morning.

My mind spun as I tried to remember all of the faces and names. No wonder Maeve was feeling

overwhelmed.

“Can I help in any way?" I asked.

Maeve considered her answer, looking me up and down before rising to her feet. She was tall, almost a

head taller than me, and I had to look up at her to meet her eye.

“Well, the ballroom is being set up for the party tomorrow night. The florists will be here any minute.

Maybe you could oversee the centerpieces?"

My stomach was tied in a knot as she spoke. Oh, Goddess. Out of everything she could have had me

do, this was it?

She walked away before I had a chance to ask for another task.

***

The ballroom was decorated lavishly, and I could help but gape as I walked inside. Luke, my ten year

old cousin and the fourth and final child of Maeve and Troy, was walking beside me, looking bored with

a glimmer of mischief in his gray eyes.

“Don't touch anything," I said sternly, to which he rolled his eyes and stuck his hands in the pockets of

his shorts.

“This is so boring! Why do I have to be here?" he griped, kicking at the mosaic tile with the toe of his

sandal.

“Because your dad said so, that's why." I didn't have much patience at the moment. Luke was a little

menace, and my grandfather had said on multiple occasions that he was Maeve's karma for all of her

antics as a child.

Luke was gone in a flash, his curly brown hair flying out behind him as he sprinted to the far side of the

ballroom.

“Time how fast it takes me to run back to the other side! I can do it with my eyes closed, and while

holding my breath!"

“No! Don't–" I stopped mid-sentence, my eyes fixing on the red-haired woman watching my exchange

with Luke. She was looking right at me, a good distance away, but I knew she'd recognized me in an

instant.

“Lena? What are you doing here?" Abigail said excitedly, setting down a basket of orchids and lilies as

she walked in my direction. I froze.

I'd known this moment would come. Viv and Heather would have already not only received my letters

explaining everything, but also two invitations to the wedding, and a tab paid by the palace at the same

shop where I'd purchased my dress.

“Leeeeeeeena! How many seconds was that?" Luke screamed as he slammed into me, nearly

knocking me off my feet.

“I–"

“Oh my Goddess, how the hell did you get a nannying position here?" Abigail gaped as she closed the

distance between us. She peered down at Luke, whose face was previously pink. Little devil.

“That's a bad word," he mumbled, and Abigail gave him a brilliant smile, which made him beam up at

her. “Lena's not my nanny, she's my cousin!"

The floor dropped from beneath my feet. I closed my eyes, wincing as I waited for the onslaught of

shocked and angry questions to flood from Abigail's mouth. But when I opened my eyes, she was just

smiling at me, a smirk plastered on her mouth.

“So," Abigail grinned slyly, crossing her arms. “Are you going to introduce me to the princes, or what?"