All Chapters of The Alpha King's Breeder: Chapter 831 - Chapter 840

ArisRoman steps into the light of the kitchen, scanning Posey from head to toe before turning his sights on me. “I’ve been calling like mad for a day straight. Where’ve you been?”Posey shuffles her feet before stepping past me, but I stop her, setting one foot after the other, and let my shoulders hang, turning my skeptical expression to that charming smirk I’m known for. I have it down to a fucking science, after all, even if it feels strange wearing it now after so many days of just being… me. With her. Just us.Roman’s presence feels like an enemy has entered my territory and is currently threatening the woman trying to shrink into the shadow of the stainless steel refrigerator. I have no choice but to bite those feelings back.“We went exploring on the boat and got caught up in that storm a few days ago. I took her to the hunting cabin up north to ride it out.”Roman nods, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Yeah, I got swept up in that, too.”“Why are you here?” Posey says wi

PoseySnow coats the ancient cobblestone in wet streaks of silver. Flakes stick to my gray wool cloak, the hood pulled over my hair, which is braided down my back. I blend with the landscape in shades of steel and ash, but my black boots catch the gleam of lantern light swirling a familiar magic that settles in my bones and turns my heart to dust. Roman walks beside me in silence, his phone screen illuminating the space between us in artificial blue-hued light. I try to swallow, but the knot of nerves pressing against my vocal chords makes it impossible. “He knows I’m coming, right?” I ask in a croak that sounds like a toad. Roman nods, shrugging a shoulder like this isn’t the end of the world as I know it. Like I haven’t spent three months in a purgatory of my own making because of the man who lives in the castle now casting us in its snowy shadow. The castle itself is something out of a gothic fever dream. At least a half-dozen spires stretch into the thick clouds, and four towers

PoseyWillow’s voice is soft. I press my phone to my ear with my shoulder, the recesses of the archives spanning out before me in dusty shelves and varying shades of black. I’m at least four levels underground, and the air is thin and murky as I zigzag, trying to find the table I claimed for myself earlier this morning.“So, wait, you’re staying with Aris?”“Yeah,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice low even though I might be the first person to take an interest in this section of the archives in like a thousand years. I balance the heavy books, standing on my toes to peer over the shorter shelves toward the lamplight that seems like it’s leagues away. “It wasn’t my decision.”“Tell me again about this Morgan chick. She sounds awful.”“She’s… gorgeous. Tall and lean, you know, like the models in your fashion magazines.”Willow snorts. “Come on, Posey. Their engagement is all over the news, but the royals haven’t uttered a word about it. Is he for real?”“I think so. I haven’t spoken to

ArisCrisp, clear moonlight snakes between the gnarled, frost covered trees. My paws pound shallow snow, but I don’t feel the cold bite. I needed this. Desperately. I needed to be out in my wolf form while leaving the rest of the world behind, even if just for a moment. The castle fades into the distance. I race over hills and into shallow valleys, following the curve of a mountain creek, still burbling. Ice glimmers on the water's surface and starts to solidify the higher I climb, but the silver surface begins to darken, which catches my attention after an hour spent running, barely thinking, unable to form a single rational thought. The human side of me spots blood before my wolf senses catch up to what I’m seeing. I skid to a stop next to the creek, taking in the rich, iron scent. I follow the trail–bloody droplets at first, then a puddle, then a path where something large was dragged several yards into a clearing. It’s a deer. I halt at the edge of the clearing, hackles raise

ArisMorgan’s long fingers trace over the top of my hand, her red painted nails shining in the firelight as she smiles at me, cat-like, her dark eyes giving away nothing. When I don’t react to her touch, she leans away to refill her glass of sparkling wine, clicking her tongue. She rises and turns around the room, that smile angling into a frown. I bring my glass of scotch to my lips. I’ve been drinking more than I’d like. I feel sluggish, and the booze is doing nothing to fill the creeping void spreading in my chest with every hour that ticks by. “My maids have been saying this place is haunted,” she says with a small disbelieving laugh. “Idiots. It’s just an old castle. I keep telling them that.”Her guard is asleep in an armchair by the fire, sprawled out and snoring. She passes him without a glance but comes to a stop near one of the windows. Icy silver lights fan over her skin, washing her out. What am I thinking?“Was there a reason you chose to announce an engagement that had