Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 11 : A Special Gift

I wasn't sure what I was thinking. My conversation with Jared had left me furious, then guilty, and

overall… wanting.

I wasn't able to sleep at all that night. I tossed and turned, going over every word that had passed

between us.

On top of my severely conflicting emotions, I'd entirely forgotten about the reason I'd gone to his study

again in the first place–the map.

He'd seen right through me, of course. He'd warned me of the dangers I'd face on my own. Maybe it

was the fact that I'd been mulling all of this over at close to three in the morning, but I'd started to feel

like maybe he was right. I was safer here than I was on my own, at least for now.

But Jared's words continued to plague me well into the next morning. “Why are you so mean to me?"

he'd asked.

Because I'm scared as hell, and too much of a coward to admit I'd bit off more than I could chew.

I slouched on my usual stool in the laundry, a cup of now-tepid tea sitting untouched in front of me. I

owed him an apology, a real one.

Luckily for me, a cart had arrived in the village earlier in the morning, filled to the brim with groceries.

Giselle had screamed in delight when a box of cherries was carried in, and now the entire house

smelled of baking.

I was planning on bringing a basket of freshly baked cherry pastries to the sparring ring as a peace

offering. It was the best I could do, other than behave myself and wiggle into his good graces. If he

trusted me and didn't find me a threat, I could eventually ask him to release me, and maybe even help

me get home.

But when I thought about going home, I… well, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to go home, not yet.

Despite everything, I'd made it this far, hadn't I?

Exploring the Dark Realm, finding and touching actual artifacts here had been my dream, and while it'd

had a rocky start… I was here. I found it unlikely Jared was going to kill me, especially if I stayed on my

best behavior. I was safe.

I'd won the race to explore the secrets of the Dark Realm just by making it here. None of my colleagues

had the guts. It was mine to discover, if I played my cards right. “Where is all of yesterday's laundry?"

Scarlett muttered to herself, looking around the room. It was nearly ten in the morning and our usual

onslaught of dirty, tattered clothing from yesterday's sparring and chores hadn't been delivered the

night before. The laundry room was empty.

“Maybe no one ruined their clothing?" I offered.

Scarlett gave me a look, obviously panicking about not having anything to do with her hands. She was

picking her nails and fidgeting.

I turned my tea cup in a circle, wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my day if we didn't

have anything to wash and mend. Giving Jared a basket of cherry pastries, a beaming smile, an

apology, and if he was lucky, a promise of good behavior going forward were the only things on my list.

I heard whistling in the hallway and Scarlett abruptly turned on her stool, facing away from the doorway.

I arched my brow at her and straightened up just as Archer walked into the room holding a basket of

the muddiest, most tarnished clothes I'd ever seen.

He dropped the basket at my feet, giving me a wink.

“What the hell is this?" I scoffed, gingerly picking up a shirt that fell to pieces in my hands.

“A special gift from Jared," Archer grinned, his eyes narrowed and full of mischief.

“What? Why?"

“To keep you busy and out of his personal space," he replied with a smug smile. Scarlett was off her

stool in an instant, rounding the table with desperate, outstretched hands as she reached toward the

basket. “No, these aren't for you, Lettie. You have the day off."

Scarlett slowly looked up at Archer, who towered over her by more than a foot.

“I thought we could take a walk, maybe. If you'd be okay with that," Archer continued, the mischief

draining from behind his eyes and replaced by… hope.

If I wasn't so livid, I would have felt incredibly sad for him.

“Oh, I–okay–" Scarlett stammered, glancing at me before turning toward the doorway, her face flushed

from shock.

Archer gave me another wink, then turned on his heel and followed Scarlett out of the room, leaving me

alone.

I sucked on my lower lip as I looked down at the basket. Scarlett and I usually tossed clothing this

ragged into the fire, or cut them into rags.

“You bastard. I was going to apologize to you," I said beneath my breath as I picked up the basket and

dumped the contents into one of the large vats of hot water.

This was the punishment he'd threatened me with, and it was going to take me all day.

But then I had a thought.

***

It was well past midnight. Everyone who lived in the house had gone to bed, but I was still awake, and

still sitting on my stool with the very last piece of mending laid out in front of me on my worktable. I

flexed my hands, which were cramped and raw from hours and hours of sewing.

But I'd done it. I folded up the last shirt in a neat square and set it on top of the basket, taking a

moment to catch my breath. My fingertips were raw and covered in bandages. My back felt broken, and

my legs were tingling from lack of use. I was afraid that if I stood up too quickly, my knees would buckle

and all of the blood would rush from my head.

I took it easy and slowly stretched my aching body until I was standing straight, then I clutched the

basket and carried it out into the darkened house.

Archer had checked in on me only once during the tortuous day. He'd peeked his head into the laundry,

giving me a smile and nod, then told me to deliver the laundry to Jared's room when I was done.

So, an arduous climb to the third floor of the house would be my final punishment, it seemed.

I climbed the stairs, too tired to care that every step creaked loudly throughout the house. I paused on

the last few stairs leading to the third floor, out of breath, my legs shaking with fatigue. I was exhausted.

Maybe Jared was right. A day full of mending had been enough to keep me out of his business. I

wanted nothing more than to crawl into my bed and sleep for days.

When I finally reached the third floor I noticed the snug hallway was filled with muted light coming from

an open door at the very end of the hall. I heard papers rustling, and the sound of a drawer opening,

then shutting again.

I lifted the basket a little higher, which took an incredible amount of what strength I had left, and walked

toward the door, making out what looked like a four-poster bed and thick red curtains.

Jared appeared in the doorway as I approached. He was shirtless, his tattoos on full display. He was

disheveled, his hair still wet from a bath.

He leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking as I neared and set the

basket down a few feet away from the door.

“Here," I panted, unable to form any other words. I nudged the basket forward, giving it a little kick with

my foot. I was expecting him to inspect the laundry to make sure it was up to snuff, but he just looked

at me, his gaze trailing over my face. That smug grin faded when he saw how worn down I was.

“Thanks."

“I'm sorry," I exhaled, “For snooping around. I won't do it again."

Sudden guilt flashed behind his eyes. I doubled over, my hands on my knees as my head began to

spin. I heard him take a quick step in my direction, but I waved him away. “I'm fine," I said. “I just

haven't eaten all day."

“I can make you something."

I looked up at him, quirking my brow. “You can cook?"

“I'm not totally useless in the kitchen, no," he said, retreating a step as I straightened up.

“I'm just going to go to bed," I yawned, and gave him a soft smile. He looked like he was on the verge

of apologizing to me, but I turned and walked down the hallway before he could say anything further.

Better to let him stew on his idea of a punishment for a while, anyway.

“Wait," he said softly.

I halted, but didn't turn around right away. I heard him retreat into his room for a moment, then in a flash

he was behind me, touching me lightly on the back of my arm. He gently placed a thin leather book in

my hands.

“What is it?"

“A journal, actually." He took a pen from his pocket and set it on top of the journal. I met his eyes, and

the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “I figured since you've already read all of the books in

my study you could… write something of your own."

“Oh." I looked down at the journal, my throat tightening with sudden emotion. The gesture was

incredibly kind. I didn't really know how to voice just how much it meant. I'd lost my journal just before I

was captured, a journal I'd had for many years and taken on several expeditions.

I ran a finger over the cover, tracing the uneven surface of the leather. It was hand-sewn, and as I

opened it, I noticed the rough, hand-pressed paper that was dappled with dried flower petals.

“It's beautiful," I whispered, and looked up to find him looking exceedingly pleased.

“I'm glad you like it."

“I haven't read every book in your study, you know. If you'd only give me access–"

“Don't ruin this for me," he said, and I felt my heart squeeze around the playful smile that twitched

across his face.

“Okay," I whispered. “Goodnight, Jared."

“Goodnight," he replied, and with that I turned and walked away, clutching the journal to my chest as I

made my way to my bed in the attic.

***

I didn't sleep right away. I thumbed through the journal in the light of a single candle, listening to

Scarlett's rhythmic breathing across the room. I tapped the pen against the paper, thinking it was a

ballpoint. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to use it, and I noticed it was basically a quill with

refillable space for ink.

“Interesting," I murmured, then yawned hugely as I scribbled a little flower on the corner of the page.

Scarlett murmured to herself, turning over to face the wall.

I dated the page, enjoying how easily the ink flowed. Then, I wrote down everything that had happened

to me so far.

An hour passed, and my eyes were heavy with fatigue when I finally set the pen down and looked over

the last entry I'd made.

“The journal was a very nice gift, but I feel a little guilty about accepting it, especially after Jared sees

what I did to his clothes," I read aloud in a whisper, smiling sleepily to myself.

I'd be in trouble tomorrow.

I put the journal on my bedside table and blew out the candle, the smell of smoke thick and acrid for a

breath as I settled against the pillow. It was quiet for several minutes, the only sounds were the

creaking of the house and a gentle breeze dusting the window above my head.

But then Scarlett took a deep, shuddering breath and began to whimper.

I shot out of bed and launched myself on Scarlett, taking her face between my hands.

“Shhh… Shhh…" I coaxed, her tears seeping between my fingers.

She was choking on silent sobs, her entire body trembling. She wasn't even awake, and hadn't noticed

I was leaning over her, holding her face in my hands as whatever nightmare she was stuck in passed.

I'd only been staying at the house for four or five days, but this was the third time I'd held Scarlett in my

arms while she fought some demon in her sleep. I didn't think she even knew I'd been doing this for

her, with her. The first night it happened I thought she was being attacked. I'd rolled out of bed ready to

fight off whoever was assaulting her, my weapon of choice a single shoe, because I didn't have time to

find the other one.

These afflictions were called night terrors. I'd witnessed plenty of them during my time living in the

dorms at the University of Mirage. Mine had been one of the first classes to attend the university after

the war against the vampires, a war in which many, many young people had fought against horrors I

couldn't fathom.

They relived those horrors night after night in their dreams.

All I knew about Scarlett was that she knew Archer from her youth, and that something had happened

to her after Archer left the orphanage they grew up in to join Jared's crew.

Whatever that trauma had been, well, she was living it now, and I could do little to help her.

She quieted, sniffling lightly as the last of her tears spilled into my hands. I laid down next to her and

laid my arm over her chest while I curved my body around hers. My weight helped ease her back into

sleep, but I waited to return to my own bed until her heartbeat slowed.

Poor girl, I thought, reaching up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.

I wondered if Jared knew this was happening, and if so, if there was anything he could do to stop it.

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