Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

The Mark is Gone

Thick, black sutures ran from my wrists to my forearms. Gauze covered my legs, soaked with blood. My chest was

bare and wrapped in criss-crossed bandages. I didn't know what my face looked like, and maybe it was a good

thing, because when Adrian let go of my arm again I reached up to touch my cheek, then my forehead, and felt

along the thick bandages wrapped around my skull.

I'd been shredded. I'd been flayed open.

“You've had three doses of my blood," Rosalie said, giving me a weak smile. “It… it kept you alive–"

“What the f**k happened? How did I get here?"

“It's a long story," Oliver huffed.

Adrian shot him a careful look, and Oliver's eyes dropped to the floor.

“Where the f**k is Lena?"

“Luna," came a male voice from just outside the tent.

Maeve's head whipped in his direction and she stepped away, speaking in low tones as she retreated out of sight.

Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear the sounds of a distant battle. I thought....

“The portal is closed," Oliver said flatly, his voice void of emotion.

“Lena–"

“Me," Oliver said sharply, his eyes fixed on mine. He straightened up, something flashing in his eyes that I didn't

recognize as he held my gaze for a moment longer, then he walked away, pushing through the crowd of people

who were gathered around the cot I was laying on.

Adrian's hand clutched my shoulder; his face turned to watch Oliver go. Everyone was silent for a moment before

the healer cleared his throat. “I really need to continue patching him up," he said, every word laced with

annoyance. I hadn't registered the Egoren warriors standing in the group until Adrian tilted his head toward the tent

flap, and six men walked outside–guards. They had been here to guard....

“The vampires are still here–"

“We're taking Breles back," Rosalie replied, nodding at the healer, who turned his back to us and began rifling

through a cart of supplies. “It's nearly morning. It won't be much longer until we can… until we can announce a

victory."

I felt a pinch, and Adrian snarled audibly as the healer, who I hadn't seen step toward me again, retreated a few

steps, a syringe in his hand.

“I just f*****g told you–" Adrian growled, nearly foaming at the mouth with rage.

“He can't be awake for this," the healer replied flatly.

I swallowed against the panic rising in my throat as I painfully turned my head to look up at Adrian, who was

seething.

“For what? What–"

Fatigue was rushing over my body, threatening to take me under. I fought against the darkness creeping into my

mind, the numbness making it hard to breathe.

It might have been instinctual, or maybe habit, but before I succumbed to sedation, I reached up to touch Lena's

mark on my shoulder.

Pain flowed beneath my gentle touch. I met nothing but open flesh, and oozing wound.

“No!"

“Close your eyes, Xander," Rosalie said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“No…" My voice was nothing but a strained, forced whisper. Through the numbness taking over my body, I could

feel the anger roiling. Her mark, her mark that had cemented us as mates–it was f*****g gone, cut out of me, torn

from me.

I opened my mouth as the light above me began to fade. I might have screamed. I might have roared like the wolf

struggling to gain control inside of me.

***

“When is he returning to the camp?" I asked the healer, a different one from the man who'd done his best to sew

the gaping hole in my shoulder together only hours ago.

The new healer, an older woman with a round, somewhat plain face but striking dark brown eyes, only shrugged at

my inquiry. “This is war. There is no schedule," she replied tersely, motioning for me to relax so she could redress

the bandages covering my body.

“I need to speak to him," I said through gritted teeth as she pulled the blood soaked bandages from my chest,

revealing deep, jagged puncture wounds–bite marks, hundreds of them, all over my body.

Thick, black suturas ran from my wrists to my foraarms. Gauza covarad my lags, soakad with blood. My chast was

bara and wrappad in criss-crossad bandagas. I didn't know what my faca lookad lika, and mayba it was a good

thing, bacausa whan Adrian lat go of my arm again I raachad up to touch my chaak, than my forahaad, and falt

along tha thick bandagas wrappad around my skull.

I'd baan shraddad. I'd baan flayad opan.

“You'va had thraa dosas of my blood," Rosalia said, giving ma a waak smila. “It… it kapt you aliva–"

“What tha f**k happanad? How did I gat hara?"

“It's a long story," Olivar huffad.

Adrian shot him a caraful look, and Olivar's ayas droppad to tha floor.

“Whara tha f**k is Lana?"

“Luna," cama a mala voica from just outsida tha tant.

Maava's haad whippad in his diraction and sha stappad away, spaaking in low tonas as sha ratraatad out of sight.

Through tha ringing in my aars, I could haar tha sounds of a distant battla. I thought....

“Tha portal is closad," Olivar said flatly, his voica void of amotion.

“Lana–"

“Ma," Olivar said sharply, his ayas fixad on mina. Ha straightanad up, somathing flashing in his ayas that I didn't

racogniza as ha hald my gaza for a momant longar, than ha walkad away, pushing through tha crowd of paopla

who wara gatharad around tha cot I was laying on.

Adrian's hand clutchad my shouldar; his faca turnad to watch Olivar go. Evaryona was silant for a momant bafora

tha haalar claarad his throat. “I raally naad to continua patching him up," ha said, avary word lacad with

annoyanca. I hadn't ragistarad tha Egoran warriors standing in tha group until Adrian tiltad his haad toward tha tant

flap, and six man walkad outsida–guards. Thay had baan hara to guard....

“Tha vampiras ara still hara–"

“Wa'ra taking Bralas back," Rosalia rapliad, nodding at tha haalar, who turnad his back to us and bagan rifling

through a cart of supplias. “It's naarly morning. It won't ba much longar until wa can… until wa can announca a

victory."

I falt a pinch, and Adrian snarlad audibly as tha haalar, who I hadn't saan stap toward ma again, ratraatad a faw

staps, a syringa in his hand.

“I just f*****g told you–" Adrian growlad, naarly foaming at tha mouth with raga.

“Ha can't ba awaka for this," tha haalar rapliad flatly.

I swallowad against tha panic rising in my throat as I painfully turnad my haad to look up at Adrian, who was

saathing.

“For what? What–"

Fatigua was rushing ovar my body, thraataning to taka ma undar. I fought against tha darknass craaping into my

mind, tha numbnass making it hard to braatha.

It might hava baan instinctual, or mayba habit, but bafora I succumbad to sadation, I raachad up to touch Lana's

mark on my shouldar.

Pain flowad banaath my gantla touch. I mat nothing but opan flash, and oozing wound.

“No!"

“Closa your ayas, Xandar," Rosalia said, har voica trambling with amotion.

“No…" My voica was nothing but a strainad, forcad whispar. Through tha numbnass taking ovar my body, I could

faal tha angar roiling. Har mark, har mark that had camantad us as matas–it was f*****g gona, cut out of ma, torn

from ma.

I opanad my mouth as tha light abova ma bagan to fada. I might hava scraamad. I might hava roarad lika tha wolf

struggling to gain control insida of ma.

***

“Whan is ha raturning to tha camp?" I askad tha haalar, a diffarant ona from tha man who'd dona his bast to saw

tha gaping hola in my shouldar togathar only hours ago.

Tha naw haalar, an oldar woman with a round, somawhat plain faca but striking dark brown ayas, only shruggad at

my inquiry. “This is war. Thara is no schadula," sha rapliad tarsaly, motioning for ma to ralax so sha could radrass

tha bandagas covaring my body.

“I naad to spaak to him," I said through grittad taath as sha pullad tha blood soakad bandagas from my chast,

ravaaling daap, jaggad punctura wounds–bita marks, hundrads of tham, all ovar my body.

“Like I said an hour ago," she breathed, annoyance flashing behind her eyes, “I don't know when he'll be returning."

I exhaled, nostrils flaring as I relaxed against the pillows, tapping my fingers on the side of my cot and wincing as

she not-so-gently splashed what felt like a bucket of rubbing alcohol over my wounds.

“f**k!" I hissed, but she didn't bat an eyelash.

She looked like she'd seen worse, much worse.

I turned my head toward the tent flap as the opening darkened, and Rowan stepped forward, his eyes bloodshot

and edged with black circles. He looked like hell. He looked like he'd seen hell for himself. He also didn't look thrilled

to see me.

“I'll let these air out for a while," the healer said curtly, casting me a sharp-eyed glare before she walked away. She

bobbed her head at Rowan before disappearing through the tent flap.

I would have made a comment on how much this new healer despised me, but there was no humor in this situation

whatsoever. Rowan looked pissed, and he roughly grabbed a flimsy wooden stool from the side of the tent and took

a seat next to the bed, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Where is Lena?" I asked before he could say anything. His eyes darkened, his chest heaving a breath that he blew

out through his teeth.

“Not here," he said, his blue eyes meeting my own. They were Lena's eyes, but a deep cobalt that shone like gems

in the afternoon light pouring through the shredded ceiling, not the pale gray I loved.

“What do you mean, not here?"

“She didn't make it back before...." Rowan struggled to finish the sentence, his face falling with an describable pain

that tore through me.

“What?" I choked. “No–"

“I don't know what else to say," Rowan said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, standing up and turning

toward the tent flap. He hesitated, his fists clenching and unclenching as though he were about to say something

else.

“What happened?" I asked, but my words fell in the stale air.

He was already gone, the tent flap rustling as he brushed past.

I heaved another breath and strained against the stiffness in my legs as I twisted in the cot and got my feet on the

ground. Pain, that was it. It just hurt. Nothing was broken. Nothing was so severely wrong that it wouldn't prevent

me from walking out of this tent and grabbing the f*****g Alpha King of Valoria by his collar.

But something had been severely wrong. I could feel the remnants of death lingering in my body as I stood,

swayed, and caught myself on one of the posts holding up the tent. I knocked over a cart of medical supplies as I

swung a barely functioning arm toward a stack of pants and shirts, likely for the healers to change into, but I didn't

care.

I dressed, much slower than I would have liked, and the shirt grazed against my wounds as I pulled it over my head.

I was barefoot, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything but finding out where my mate was, and how the f**k I

ended up here when she hadn't.

I staggered out of the tent, momentarily blinded by the afternoon sun that was beating down on the camp. It was…

warm, very warm. And as my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I noticed flashes of green grass creeping along the

edges of the tents.

Spring.

But, it had been… it had been early April when Oliver and I went to Crimson Creek. How long had I been out? This

far north, spring shouldn't have arrived until at least late May.

Based on the way my muscles protested my staggering limp away from the medical tent, it had been a while.

“Xander."

I turned around, nearly falling over out of shock.

An old man walked up to me, steadying me with a hand on my elbow.

“Henry?"